Tough Girl

26: Picture

Hi guys! Long time no read but I'm back with another chapter for you! :D  This chapter is dedicated to Sock Puppet2016 and Ashenry, you guys are fantastic people that made me smile! Thanks  guys :) (don't forget to comment to have a chance for a dedication)

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Back at school on Tuesday, we groan our way through homeroom. Everyone except for me is tired. I slept quite well last night, and woke up early this morning.

I clicked my pencil against my hand as I brainstormed poem ideas. It was a little harder to focus when I could feel Luke twisting my hair into loops behind me. I turned around, sticking my tongue out at him quickly before pulling my hair in front of my shoulders. Gabe laughed and I held back a giggle as our teacher hushed him.

Today was a hush and work day. The class on these days would be absolutely silent and working on an assignment. This assignment would be due the next day for a grade. Our assignment today was to write a fifteen line poem. I picked up my pencil to write the word dancing on my paper as the door opened. Instantly, every head turned to see who it was. Sean walked through the trailer's doorway looking a bit flustered as he smoothed his black tie against his purple shirt like Owen always does. Quickly he spoke to our teacher.

"Ms. Sorenson," She announced, "Please gather your things. Dr. Green will escort you to the office to leave."

His face didn't give away anything as I stood up with my stuff to leave. Kota caught my hand as I passed him and I squeezed it before letting go. As soon as we were out of the trailer, Sean grabbed my bag and began a faster pace. We ended up at his office instead of this main office, and hen I was a bit more confused then before.

"Dr. Green", I breathe, trying to regain my composure. He looks at me funny, and I catch Owen's eye from behind his desk. "We're at school," I explain. "Hello Mr. Blackbourne."

"Hello, Ms. Sorenson. I assume that Sean has not told you anything yet and as it seems you two sprinted here from the trailers allow me to explain while you catch your breath." His steely eyes hold traces of amusement that quickly ice over.

"A lot has been going on lately which has excluded your parents and they aren't quite happy about it. Although their hospitalization has kept you separated and safe for the most part, they still have rights. The woman who used to be handling your mother and step father's hospital care is in California for the next few months- tending to an older relative- and therefore your parent's care was handed over to Sean.

"Upon seeing Sean they recognized and associated him with you. They have filed a request that they see you. While as of now they still remain your guardians and technical parents they hold rights and we cannot refuse their request. You must go see them today."

I bit my lip. The last time I saw them I got hurt. They hurt me. Why could they possibly want to see me again? Would our visit be painful?

"Sang," Sean says softly. "I know you're worried about whether or not you will get hurt, and so are we. So we decided to do something a little different this time. It's called the light system. In a moment we are going to put something on your phone that will work as the light system. It will have different buttons on it. If they touch you but don't hurt you, you're going to push a blue button. If they touch you and hurt you, but you can get away, you push the yellow button. If they touch you and hurt you and you can't get away, you push the red button. No matter what light button you push if they hurt you and touch you, you push the button and you leave, okay? I will wait outside for you."

I nod but twist my fingers together. "What if I need to push the red button but I can't reach it?" Their eyes darken with anger and sadness, and a little bit of fear.

"Yell for Sean," Owen says.

We install the light system on my phone and then Sean drives us to the hospital. I don't look at him, just stare at the world through the car window. It is silent and tense and we sit still like statues at the corners of old museums, afraid to teeter and fall off the edge. I worry about seeing them. I remember looking in the mirror this morning at my arms. The bruises are almost gone; I don't know how much longer they will be there though.

I wish I could be stronger but I don't know why this is so hard.

Sean's P.O.V. (yay!)

I watched Sang as she glanced out the window at the speeding image of the world on the road. Her hair twisted around her shoulders and her green eyes reflected in the glass. I could read her like an open book; the worry written on her face like settled ink and the years of anxiety painted on her skin. Somehow over it all, a layer of beauty coated her pain. Her youth and spirit shone through it like a flashlight in a blanket fortress. Sang's lips twisted into a frown similar to my own and I reached for her hand. She didn't object, just sat and laced her fingers tighter around my own.

It was moments like this when I wondered how it came to be- her and us. How we happened. I know that she met Luke that day, I know that. But I wonder why she was put with us. I wonder how she is still with us. Our beautiful piece of family, our Sang. A blessing in this world to be by her side. We are lucky that she is who she is. I am lucky to be a part of who she will be. I've never been a religious man, just me living and joking around and helping people, but that doesn't mean I don't know a gift when I get one.

Sang is strong. Not quite tough, like her mom says, but strong. And she has her whole family to back her. I know that whatever comes our way today, we can get through it. We prepared for this as best as we could, so what else is there to do? Late at night, I sit up with Owen and we try to figure out how to get her out. And we will, just not today.

"Sang," I say. She nods to tell me she's listening. "We can get through this. I promise. We've made it this far and we can keep going. Just picture the day that you are free from all of this. Try to imagine how it will feel. Picture wherever you want to be, and who you want to be sitting next to, and how you want it to look."

Sang closes her eyes to picture. Her lips curl up into a smile and her hand squeezes mine. "Now what?" She asks.

"Now you remember that picture and you remember that it's not impossible. And you work to make it happen. You remember your picture and you keep going; You smile and you cry, but no matter what you keep going. You make your picture a memory."