the strings

:: seven ::

"Raleigh!" 

I look up at the sound of my name being screamed by a little kid somewhere. I spot her right before she hurls herself at me, knocking me over onto the ground.

"Laurel, holy crap," Hudson says from somewhere above me, pulling the six year old off of me in one swift movement. 

I rub my elbow where I slammed it into the floor of the children's section of the library, "Hey, Laurel," I greet, sitting up.

Hudson sets Laurel down and stretches out a hand to me. I take it and he pulls me up, chuckling all the while.

"I missed you," Laurel says dramatically, throwing her head back to look up at me.

I pick her up and place her on my hip, "I missed you too. Did you like the dog and cat books we picked out last time?"

She nods her head quickly, "Yes, yes, yes! Do you have more?"

I set her down and walk over to a section that I know has a lot of animal books and tell her to pick a few out before I walk back to where I was reshelving.

I crouch down to put a book in the bottom shelf and when a face appears right next to my shoulder I don't even flinch. I was expecting him to do something.

"Thank you," he says in a geniune voice, and this shocks me more than anything he's done so far.

I stand up, and so does he. "For what?" I ask, turning my head to the side.

He nods over at Laurely spinning around with a newfound book. "For that."

I smile, "She's really something, isn't she?"

He turns to me, a serious look on his face, "She's talked about you all week. Most adults just kind of ignore her because she's so loud and crazy. They think if they ignore her she'll go away or calm down or something. You're the first person to ever really pay attention to her that didn't have to."

I shrug, "I didn't talk to her that long, it was just a couple of minutes..."

He reaches up and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, "Yeah, but those couple of minutes mattered to her. So they mattered to me."

I nod slowly, "Well, you're welcome."

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I get my back to my house pretty late, since I stayed after my volunteer hours to study and catch up on some reading.

When I walk through the door I'm greeted by the sight of Ellie sitting in the living room. Immediate panics sets in.

I drop my bags, "Are you okay?" I ask, rushing over, pulling out my phone to dial 9-1-1.

Ellie nods, looking up from her show placidly, "Yeah, I'm fine."

I turn my phone off, heart racing a million miles an hour. "What are you doing down here?"

She shrugs, "Someone rang the doorbell, and I thought it might be you since you forget your key like seventy five percent of the time. And then I didn't really feel like I could walk back upstairs so yeah. Here I am."

I shake my head, sinking down onto the couch opposite her. "I wouldn't have rung the doorbell and made you get up, Elles."

She pauses her show, "Well I thought you might've thought mom or dad were here."

I don't think that. Not anymore. I'm not an idiot. They hate being here, hate seeing her like this, so they try to work as much as they can so they don't have to see her in pain.