Chapter Eighteen

Sebastian

I pick Melody up, holding her to me as I smell her hair. She's freshly washed, and it's smooth and silky, exactly how it would be if Beth had washed her on a Sunday.

The reminder of such a task being thrust upon me just makes me feel goddang awful, but I make no mention that Tina took it upon herself to do such a task when that should have been left up to me.

You've been next to useless!

"Whatcha painting?" I ask, walking to the table to peek at her painting, which is in bright, eye-catching colours.

"Us," she tells me as I note two figures holding hands. They both have downturned mouths, a sigh of unhappiness, my thumb running over the paper, tracing her depiction of... depression.

"Are they sad?" I ask.

She nods, not saying yes, but I see in her eyes that she's depicting how she feels.

She's always been well ahead in her drawings; she's been making these weird little stickmen for a few months now. But the sad face was a new one; she hadn't been doing mouths in any other fo