Suffocating

Enfold; XII

The voice at the other end of the line lacked any sort of 'grandmother goodness' when it said, "Bee."

And Bonnie had to chuckle. "Wow. Haven't heard that nickname in ages."

"I thought we agreed we were going to protect that child."

Ah. Serious and strict as always. Bonnie felt the old sparks of her youthful days flickering back to life. She fished for her pack of cigars, tapping her pockets. She knew this was going to be a long conversation when she feigned her unblissful ignorance. "Who? Claire?"

"Yes, Claire! Who else could I be talking about!?"

Bonnie's lips pursed into a thin line. Her hand, holding the pack, went limp. "I dunno. My own kid, maybe."

There was a very long pause from the other end of the line. "Bella can take care of herself."

No. She couldn't. She only pretended to so people would leave her alone. She fooled them all, and sometimes even her own parent, into thinking she was a rational, well-thought, functional human being, when really, she was as lost as any other teenager. She was as clueless, as afraid, as angry as them all.

There was a sound of wood creaking at the other end of the line, and Bonnie could imagine Garcia sitting down in that ugly wooden chair of hers - the one that squeaked terribly because she never oiled the hinges to get rid of the squeaks.

"She's too mature for her own good."

Bonnie snorted. "You got that right." Her hand started working again. With practised movements, she fished out one smoke, grabbed her lighter, and lit it up, all with one arm. Talent, bitches. "Now, what is it about our dear Claire not getting the golden treatment she deserves?"

Her eyes flickered to the apartment at the other end of the street, just outside her peripheral. She walked to look at it and squinted. She could see their silhouettes. Claire, leaning forward, hands clasped in anticipation, and the other kid, looking far more lax. Not paying attention, even.

"Why did you let her do what she did? Why did you let that thing corrupt her?"

Bonnie didn't see anything corrupted. She just saw two girls having a movie night. "That thing is a part of her."

"It made her hurt people!"

"Bad people who fucking deserved it!" Why couldn't Garcia see that?! Why couldn't Garcia understand?! They weren't talking about low-level thieves, they were talking about murderers, rapists, and fucking pedophiles!

The world's biggest problems weren't the lack of education or the lack of healthy food. It was people. The mentally unhinged ones. Those who took away Bonnie's ability to trust and cope. Those who made Bonnie had to give up raising her own damn kid.

Bonnie took an all-too-rough drag. A weak person would've choked and spluttered and coughed out the smoke from the suddenness of it all, but she was no weak person. Not anymore.

"And now she's no better than they are," said Garcia.

"She isn't." Bonnie wasn't saying that it was.

"Tell me, Bee. If someone with her eyes were to look at her, would they spare her, or would they wish to rip her to shreds or cower in well-deserved fear?"

Bonnie stopped in her tracks. The smoke from her mouth danced and twirled and polluted the air above as she froze. It cast a gentle blue light to the world. Almost like a rose-colored glasses, she thought.

"Taking a life changes us. We both know it." It did change her, but it made her better, stronger, faster. It introduced her to danger, and it helped her understand the true dangers she should keep her child away from. No matter how much Bella complained and hated her, at least she had a childhood, short lived as it may have been. At least someone taught her how to look out for herself. "Even now, decades later, surrounded by my lovely children, I still think about it."