Chapter Thirty-Eight

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Chapter Thirty-Eight~

Rosaline's POV:

July, 8th.

"Mumma, what's wrong?"

Still I found it peculiar how much Sophia's vocabulary was utterly changed in only a span of less than a month.

She was sat in my arms, cradled like a tiny baby, fidgeting with a Barbie Doll, but her eyes focused on Mum.

Mum was sat on the opposite couch from us, wearing reading glasses that hung low on her face, scanning over mail.

She looked in our direction, removing her glasses, letting them hang around her neck from a chain that was attached.

"Nothing sweetheart."

I sighed. Even a toddler could tell that her mother wasn't happy behind all the fake smiles she plastered.

Mum's eyes shot up to my face.

"There really is nothing wrong. I'm just..." She searched for a lie, and stammered out. "...tired."

First, she stared at me to check if she used the right word to make me believe, but in all honesty, I wasn't born yesterday.

Then, she seemed so sure, and positive that her lie was worth it. "Yes... I'm just tired."

Who was she trying to fool?

Sophia pressed the barbie's blonde hair to her cheek, as though she was thinking.

If I were to let this conversation go, I knew everything would only get worse. "It's better to let things out, rather than bottling it up."

I avoided her eyes, staring down at Sophia who had already released the conversation from her thoughts, as told by her face.

It's not that she had a short attention span, it's just that when answered 'No,' she no longer cared. Why? I don't know. Sometimes I wondered what went on in her mind, as well as all kids under the age of 5. Usually by 5, kids are thinking letters, numbers, toys, cartoons, this and that- mature kid thoughts. But under 5, they don't know number or letters, they obviously think about toys and or cartoons, but when they didn't, what do they think?

Kids had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Not wondering how they were going to get to the movies with friends, not wondering how to pay bills, school, or even about getting gas in the car.

Probably just rainbows, and unicorns. Or trying to plug in voices with faces, and names.

As for my mind?

...Replayed conversations, wonder, worry, yearning.

"True. But something's are better left unsaid, and out of their kids hands."

That had to be the biggest pile of bullshit ever heard.

No matter how many times I've heard: 'Something's are better left unsaid.'

I never believed it.

Even if I told myself that, or other people. I was lying.

"Is it Dad?"

"No."

"Sophia?"

"No one."

"Is it me?"

"It's nothing!"

This made Sophia jump in my arms, in fright. I could tell she'd never heard my mum yell, unless she was yelling for someone to come here, because how distant they were. I can honestly say that I've never actually heard her yell since I was the only child.

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