“You wondered how I got this way, Dax, it wasn’t overnight. By the time I was fourteen, I’d been in situations that made death as acceptable as living.”
“And your mother? What happened to your mother?” I questioned while squeezing her tensed body against my side. She was retreating, and I didn’t want her to.
“Overdosed,” she answered. “I found her dead a few months before my twelfth birthday. While most kids were fighting to escape the juvenile group home they’d stuck me in, it was a big step up from the life I’d lived. I’d had so much practice being on my own that I was one of the only kids who knew how to sneak in and out of a group home without getting caught. I met Beverly in the same group home. There was twelve of us there. Beverly and I later met Megan at school, and we’ve been friends since.”
She stopped her words abruptly, her gaze aimed over the balcony, but she wasn’t seeing anything but what was in her head.
“This is why you’re so dedicated to your friends and the kids at the club,” I pointed out.
“The little ones,” she started. “They look at me like I’m a super hero when all I do is offer them a few necessities their parents either can’t afford or don’t care enough to provide. Food, a few decent clothing items, shoes, coats when it’s cold. I attempt to give them a bit of the attention their parents refuse to give or don’t know how to give.”
She freely gave what she’d never gotten. Where had she found compassion that she’d never been taught or given?
“You’re a better person for what you do, Laura,” I declared. “You told me that you take what you are given and make what you need, and that’s exactly what you do. Even with the hand you were dealt as a child, you’ve done more for others than the people out there prancing around calling themselves philanthropists. You’re more inspiring than I believe you know.”
“Thank you,” she replied before I drew her all the way in and closed her into my arms. She allowed her body to relax into mine as she laid her head against my chest. There was more, I sensed it.
“What about the rest?” I questioned. “You don’t have to tell me the details, but is death a part of what links you to the two people you are closest to in your life?”
Her body had grown so rigid I expected her to retreat, but she didn’t. The faint trace of one word found my ear.
“Yes.”