Four Broken Pieces ✓

Eighteen

The rain was coming down in sheets outside the window and lightning crackled across the dark sky. The electricity had gone out over a half hour ago and the rec center was only lit with the help of a few candles I'd managed to find in the utility closet. The entire center was empty now; spare one little girl sitting at the back. She'd joined a couple of weeks ago, and in all the time she'd been here, she'd barely spoken a word or two. I tried hopelessly once again to get her to talk if only to break the silence that surrounded us.

"Amelia are you sure you aren't cold." The girl merely shook her head and turned towards the window with a sullen expression on her face. I fought to keep my huff of impatience inside and leaned into my own chair to get comfortable. Her parents were around 10 minutes late to pick her up and with the rain pouring outside I was pretty sure that delay would only extend. I couldn't doze off, although I doubted Amelia would even notice, so instead, I chose to think of this morning. I'd come downstairs and to my surprise, the three boys had stuck around instead of leaving, like the last time. Alexei had been knocked out cold on the couch; still fast asleep while Ivan had been watching TV. Mikhail had been in the kitchen, shirtless much to my embarrassment, making breakfast for the four of us. The three of them had created a surprisingly domestic scene and I couldn't help but wish to wake to it more often. But it was too soon for that. We'd bickered and talked over breakfast before the three boys left, claiming they had business to attend to.

"Ms. Roe?"

I looked up startled and practically had a heart attack when I realized Amelia was standing right in front of me, her little hand waving rapidly in front of my face to get my attention. Oh brilliant, I might as well have dozed off. I snapped to attention and took her still waving hand in mine.

"Yes, honey?"

"I'm hungry," she said with a pout. I looked at my watch. It was around 8, which was probably way past her dinnertime. She was only 7 years old. I made a split second decision then to take her home myself. My own stomach was growling as well, and I'd forgotten to bring my usual stack of energy bars. At this rate, I would end up with severe cramps before the evening was over.

"Amelia should I just drive you home? I'm sure your parents have a meal prepared," I asked kindly. No matter how sullen she'd been before, I noticed the slight fear in her eyes as another crack of lightning lit up the sky.

"Alright," she said and I gave her smile before turning to the address book where I had all the numbers and addresses stored.

"Wait. My mother said she'd be here tonight," Amelia said, as she handed me a folded piece of paper with an address written across. I scanned it and my eyes widened in surprise.

It was the boys' address.

"Are you sure this is the right address," I asked as the two of us reached the porch steps of the house. I could still remember the slight fear etched on all three of the boys' faces when they'd looked at the house on that first night. The last thing I wanted to do was let a little girl go in there alone.

"I'm positive," she said. She'd been talking more on the car ride here and now I realized that underneath that quiet exterior, was a snarky girl with the quick wit of someone much older than 7. She was currently giving me a look identical to the one Violet gave me at times when I wasn't getting something before leaning up on her tippy toes to ring the doorbell. For a millisecond I'd wanted to bat her hand away but restrained the urge.

The door swung open and I let out a breath I hadn't even been holding as a man in his late thirties appeared at the doorway. Something about him seemed off. I didn't know whether it was the slight tilt of his head as he surveyed the two of us like we were scum or the arch of his eyebrows.