his forgotten mate

CHAPTER 37c

A/N: NOT EDITED. I typed this up too quickly so I'm sure there are mistakes. I think this may be the roughest chapter I've written yet for this book.

Chapter 37c – Chris POV

The children’s progress wasn’t a contest, but three days after Kayla woke up, she seemed to be getting worse, while the others thrived. She had nightmares, horrible terrors even during short naps, shook in her sleep, grounded her teeth together making more noise than a blender. But everyday I gave her a different rock, because while she wasn’t speaking or mentally improving – in my opinion – she was successful academically. Though it seemed harder for her, but we all figured that it was the lack of sleep, she became frustrated easily when she couldn’t figure something out.

She was barely eating and had taken up sitting alone, like now… no one stopped trying, not even her siblings, “Kayla… are you mad at me? Is that why you won’t talk?” Bailey asked her quietly, as he approached her desk for a color. And that gutted me. His voice so sad, but we couldn’t force her to speak. Kayla didn’t stop coloring, but she shook her head, not even looking up at Bailey. His thin body hunched as he went back to his own desk, sitting with Keith and Cole. I could – no we all could see the pain etched on Kayla’s face, but she didn’t budge… even though not speaking was clearly hard for her, and most likely, she was suffering greater than her siblings she didn’t speak.

I had a passing feeling; eyes were on me, looking up my eyes meet Shavons’. Giving me a halfhearted smile before continuing with the lesson she was currently having with Michael.

Piece by piece, Juliet, Shavon, Hayley, Corrina, Sunni and Colette were trying to change all those core feelings that their abusers made them believe. It was helpful that Rainy always told them that it was those men that were bad, but now out here, we were trying to basically reprogram their minds. They weren’t at all bad, useless or stupid. Instead of berating and humiliating them, over and over we told them in different ways that they were safe, cared for, and nothing that happened was right. Nothing their abusers said was true. Each time, even when they made a mistake or didn’t understand something, no voices were raised. We wanted them all at ease, so we encouraged them greatly, for their effort, behavior, following directions… everything. Letting them know, that they were good boys and girls, they weren’t bad.

We read different short stories about feelings, the good and bad ways to express them. Reassuring, hoping that they wouldn’t keep their feelings inside; if they were mad, say so. If they were worried, tell us. It was tedious, each feeling explained, breaking emotions and even physical feelings down to words, every detail explained in terms they understood.

The second day, after going over feelings, we read them stories – educational – about private spots. Fucking sick bastards.

After that lesson we knew it would something we had to touch upon many more times, because they’d believe the sky was purple with green clouds before they trusted the concept that private spots were meant to be private. It was fury inducing, I gritted my teeth at each confused look and utter disbelief. Broke countless pencils, pens and paintbrushes when little Hannah asked, ‘are you sure?’. 

Thankfully we didn’t keep it heavy all the time, some stories were read purely for fun. Different activities to ease their over worked minds.  When they were in the little school, I sat in the back – like now – my focus pulled in many directions.