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Family Heirlooms

"What about that one?" Heather asked, her finger delicately tracing the scar on my forehead. It was strange seeing her so calm and still. Usually, I was the one who had to encourage her inside after a long day of running around, or persuade her to use an 'inside voice' because of the neighbours. Today, however, her curiosity seemed to get the better of her, dampening her common restlessness. The child had been lying next to me on the bed for almost an hour, insistent on talking to me.

"I got that from a lady who attacked me. A long time ago." I assured her, my voice soft to match hers. Her eyes wandered down to my arm, landing on the circular white mark of a cigarette burn.

"And that one?" She wondered as she skimmed against it. I bit the inside of my cheek as I considered what to say. I always avoided telling my daughter about my parents, my life before the apocalypse. It didn't seem like something I should bring into my new life with her.

"I got that-that was from the attack, too." I brushed off the question, hoping she didn't notice my pause. She just moved on to the next scar, the bullet wound from all those years ago. "Remember how I told you about the prison we lived in?"

Heather eagerly nodded her head. "The one where Judy was born." She loved the stories about the world outside, even the ones that ended badly. She never got tired of hearing about the family she never got to meet.

"When it fell, I got shot right here." I pointed to the scar. It was possibly the worst one, the skin torn and healed in an ugly way. "I was out there for a little while and I had to fix it up myself. That's why it's so messy."

She let out a quiet giggle as she touched it, fingers light on the bumps and ridges. "But you found them, right? That's how you got here?" She persisted with a gentle tone.

"Yeah, I did." My lips perked up in a smile that was barely there. "Grandpa was there, and Michonne and-and Aunt Maggie and Uncle Glenn. They were all there."

She didn't meet my eyes as she frowned, a new question on her lips. "What about dad?" Her fingers tangled together with nerves.

I swallowed thickly, my teeth firmly together as I hesitated. I always promised I would tell her about Carl when she was old enough, and maybe six years was the right time. "He was there, too. I can remember when I first saw him again, and I had never felt so relieved." I stood from the bed, taking small steps over to the dresser and opening the top drawer.

Heather shuffled to the end of the bed, her legs swinging as she waited curiously. My fingers were tight on the fabric in my hand, almost trembling. I faced her with a weak smile, my eyes gleaming with unsure tears.

"When he died, he gave this to me. He said that I would know what to do with it." I sat next to her, my eyes on the hat as I placed it comfortably on her head. "He wanted you to have it. So there would always be a part of him with you."

Her tiny hands reached up for the oversized item, feeling the worn softness of the material. It was still far too big for her, but she didn't seem to mind as she gave my a wide, cheerful grin.

"I love it!" She giggled, leaping to her feet. And there it was, the return of her usual energy. She jumped on the bed, her feet messing up the blankets with every movement. She was so joyful, such a light in my life, and I found myself wondering what I ever did to deserve her.

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Just a short chapter to kick off 9B, I think they're cute but maybe you think differently (tell me what you think)

Also thank you thank you thank you for 4.5k reads, that's so close to 5k and that's half of 10k which is basically famous

Q: do you like this book? and if you do, which bit has been the best?