Chapter Text
You are eleven again, and your mother braids your hair in the bathroom.
Standing on the hard tile, you watch her in the whispering reflection as the sounds of your sobbing father echo in the next room over. He’s trying to silence himself with his hands to little avail, long strings of agony leaking out like water. They stopped fighting just three minutes ago, and now chains hold the house in their metallic grip.
“Chin up,” your mother tells you, voice flat. You do as you’re told.
The bathroom is cold, and so are you.
You are eleven again, and you wish to be twenty so you can weave these weak strands together and make love less of something that makes you want to scream. Your mother parts your hair in two directions, and you feel your heart go with them. Everything is in a grayscale, and it will be for a long, long time.
Maybe forever.
You are eleven again, and you tell yourself you will be different as you listen to your father’s broken wail and your mother’s steely breath.
It’s the only truth that you allow yourself to believe.
