Skye

"Don't you fucking touch her!" He roared at the older man, anger making him shake like a leaf.

Instead of watching, I curled into a ball and retreated inside my head. I had built a safe space where harsh reality couldn't hurt me. It was a pillow fortress made from every single happy memory I could salvage from a childhood I could barely remember. Only about four years worth.

Blackberry picking with Thomas and Lily. Eating more than we put in our buckets.

Riding around on my father's shoulders, tiny pudgy hands grasping for wisteria blossoms overhead.

Grandpa Zeckle teaching us about the constellations. Stargazing and pointing out the ones we remembered. Making up names and stories for the ones we didn't.

"Silver?"

Playing hide and seek with a few of the older kids.

"Silver?!"

I furrowed my brows in concentration. I didn't want to go back there, not yet.

"Come on, snap out of it."

Learning to swim in the river near the house.

"Silver?" This voice was new, gentle, warm like hot cocoa