no savior.

no hope

Dear Kaylie Jane,

If you ever go to fall in love with yourself... Take my advice... Don't.

KJ's POV

After the Layne sighting, everything seems to go back to normal. I wake up, go to work, and come back home to Vin, and it's all good.

Or so I tell myself.

In reality it's all suspicious. Why would Layne show up for just one day? Was she looking for me? Did she remember me? How? And if she did, why would Dil lie to me?

However, I keep my ponderings to myself, not wanting to scare Vin away again. I didn't want to lose him again. Our friendship had withstood too much.

My office at CHRIST ALMIGHTY'S was finally up to my taste. I'd decorated some of the walls with Charlie's drawings, and a couple of the other kids from the home had taken to bringing me things as well. One of the boys, Maxwell, was a talented sculptor and made me a life like sculpture of a small puppy which I kept outside my door, guarding a box full of encouragements. I'd gone through a few therapists growing up, and the cheesiness of some of the therapy scene was annoying, but some of it helped me, in spite of how bad I wanted to be cynical.

Charlie hands over her newest art work as our time comes to a close and smiles at me.

I examine it. Two toned Mohawk. Collared shirt and biker jacket. Lop-sided dimples. "Is this me, Charlie?"

She nods and stands up to go, quietly, as usual. Ella comes in as I'm taking my degree off the wall to use the frame.

"What are you doing?"

"It needed a frame," I shrug, placing the picture in front of my bachelors.

"Isn't it like an adult rule to display all of ya' degrees everywhere?" she lowers herself into a chair, then reclines in it slightly, crossing her arms.

"I'm not an adult so I wouldn't know," I hang the frame again, Charlies portrait of me displayed clearly, "So what's up?"

"Nothing," she shrugs, "Charlie draw that?"

I nod, "She's really good."

"Does she talk to you?" Ella questions.

"Does she talk to you?" I respond.

"Not with words," she says, "You went to school for this right? How do you fix her? Why does she talk to you?"

"I can't discuss other clients with you," I reply, "And that's an actual rule of adult."

She huffs and that ends that conversation. But it's an opening, so I take it.

"How do you two communicate if you aren't using words?"

"I use words," she corrects me, "But she draws me things."

She pulls out a folded and crumpled drawing, "I didn't know it was here at first, but now that we both have to talk to you about stuff or whatever and you have her shit all over the wall it's clear. But when I ask her about it she lies. It's like she wants to talk to me but she doesn't want me to know. Does that make sense to you?"

"Why does it bother you so much?" I press.

"Because that's my girlfriend," she states with passion, "She just doesn't know it yet."

Um... Okay... I consider how problematic that sentence is, then "Isn't that a little possessive? I mean, do you even know if she likes you back?"

"I feel it," she leans in, "Haven't you ever been in love?"

I cringe inwardly, "Nope. Wouldn't know about it."