Chiara Romero
A young, sweet little six year old girl that was ripped from the place she had lived in for not only a year, all because of her parent's choices. She had to live with the consequences of her parents choices.
She had to be re-stitched...
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- Chiara Romero -
It felt like my eyes had been glued shut, permanently. But for once, I actually enjoyed sleep. I didn't feel like I should be shaking in fear because my foster parents could come into my room and beat me till I couldn't move or walk. I felt at peace. Maybe I could just die here, right now, in peace.
But then it dawned on me. I had people to live for, people to congratulate me, people that cared about me. I had brothers that actually cared if I was hurt. I think I did, as I wasn't sure what I actually did have, but it was far better than what I had had once before. So, I tried with every ounce of energy that I had to open my eyes, even wiggle my fingers, or take a breath without feeling something lodged down my throat.
I fought for my brothers, for myself. "She's awake!" I heard someone yell, and that's when I realized that I could see. I could see all of my brothers; the people that had saved me. I winced slightly at the loud sound, my eyes searching around the people for someone particular. Once my eyes had landed on him, I smiled a small smile.
He had saved me.
"Calm down Luca" a boy was then pushed out of my main eyesight as Enzo came into view. I reached up, trying to grab onto his shoulders, to hug him as a way to say thank you, but clearly my attempts were futile.
Enzo then laid me down gently, before climbing into the small space beside me. No one spoke a word, like they were shocked at what Enzo was doing. As soon as Enzo had gotten comfortable, I curled my body into his, seeking comfort. "So cute" was mumbled, followed by a few responses that I didn't hear.
"I need a picture of this" before I knew it, a phone was pulled out, as the rest of them all chuckled lightly. I was so confused. "Why?" I croaked out, responding to the person who had wanted a picture of the two of us. I mean, its weird for someone to have a photo of me, as my foster parents always forbid me from going to school on the days that we had photos.
"Memories" that word made me tense. My foster parents had always said that they needed memories of me in their house; just me. It sent shivers down my spine, clearly causing Enzo to notice. "Cold?" he questioned.
The hospital gown I was in wasn't doing anything, but that wasn't the issue. I just shook my head, not wanting to say anything more. I had already said enough. I had spoken to much if that was a thing.
Enzo just nodded at me, looking to our brothers, who had all gone silent. "What?" he questioned, causing them all to snicker or look away. I took another glance around the room, noticing the absence of the man that had talked about my medication.
That's when I noticed that there was a wire leading down to my right hand. I was about to move the blanket that was covering my hand, praying I wouldn't see a needle, but Enzo stopped me, rather clasping a hand on the hand that wanted to lift the blanket.
I looked at him, questioningly. "Needle?" I squeaked out, hoping it was anything but that. Not only had my foster parents wanted memories, but they also made sure as a punishment to inject me with some random substance that they never told me the name of. Hence my fear of needles.
