I shook my head, “Not as bad as you’d think.”
She nodded as her eyes welled up in the corners, “I’m living with a foster family now. They’re alright, I guess, Tessa makes soup like every night,” playfully rolling her eyes with a smile.
“Sounds delightful.” My eyebrow raised with a sarcastic smirk.
“You’d hate it. Too many vegetables.” We both laughed quickly and crookedly. But it was real. Then she leaned forward, “Chester’s the one who tracked me down. Showed up out of nowhere and said you’d want to know I was okay.” That name hit me like a punch to the chest. Why hadn’t he come to see me?
I nodded. “Yeah, I did wonder why I hadn’t seen you guys.”
Her eyes dropped from mine, “I’m sorry, I should have come sooner. Chesters' been pretty busy as well from the sounds of it.”
“It’s fine. I get it, not exactly Disneyland, is it?” She smiled, but I could see her fighting back her emotions. And I could also feel it, the lump forming in my throat as I looked at her.
Squeezing my hand, she looked at me, something unsaid sitting behind her eyes as her mouth dropped open.
“Everything ok?” I said, brows creasing towards her. I could see the resistance; Squeeks was never any good at keeping secrets.
“Um, yeah. Completely forgot what I was going to say.” Brushing me off with a false smile.
Time rushed by quicker than we both wanted it to, but before she left, she pulled something from her hoodie pocket—a folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled.
“I drew you something,” suddenly shy. “Just… y’know. In case you need some sunshine.”
I let out a deep breath as she wrapped her arms around me. She was my home, and I wanted desperately to follow her.
I opened it after she disappeared behind the barrier. It was a sketch of us, stick-figured, standing under a sky with a lopsided sun. But we were smiling—both of us.
Underneath, in her messy handwriting, she’d written:Don’t forget who you are.
I stared at that drawing for a long time before I tucked it into my chest pocket and headed for the door.
I’d barely made it two steps out of the visitation room when a thick hand slammed against my chest.
“Hold up McCabe.” It was the older guard, Taylor, the one with the faded knuckle tattoos and a permanent squint.
I looked up at him, confusion written on my face, “Something wrong, officer?”
He nodded at my chest pocket, “Hand it over.”
I blinked with surprise, “Hand what over?”
His eyes dropped to the front of my shirt, “You know what.” The paper. Her drawing.
“You can’t be serious?”
He crossed his arms, “No personal items without clearance. Especially from visitors. Rules are rules.”
I snapped, “It’s a picture!” his stance widened in front of me, almost in preparation for me to explode.
“A drawing. Not a shiv. You think I’m going to stab someone with a crayon sun?” his expression remained unchanged, holding out his hand palm side up.
“You think I make the rules?” he fired back, “Give it up, or you lose rec time all week.”
I swallowed hard, pressing my lips together as the anger quickly rushed through me.
“Come on,” I muttered. “She’s just a kid.”
Taylor’s face didn’t shift, “And you’re just a number.” I slowly reached into my pocket, pulling the drawing from within, a hateful glare shooting towards him as I forced it down into his hand. He didn’t even glance at it, just tucked it into his clipboard as if it were nothing, but it wasn’t nothing.
