risk// 5SOS

1

Tw. This book touches on the topic of self- harm and suicidal thoughts

Calum

Whenever I picked Gia up from school, she was easy to find. Sure, I could pick her out by looking for her little purple pin badge, her light-brown skin, and her braided hair. I could look for one of the shortest kids, and her purple backpack that any 10 year old would adore.

But I could pick her out with my eyes shut as long as I heard her laughter. And she was a quiet kid, with a small smile, but when she walked out of school with a friend, that giggle was hard to miss because I treasured it so much.

Honestly, I didn't really know who her friends were. She was secretive about it, and I was pretty sure that was because it changed very often. However, I did know that a little boy called Rider had now taken a liking to her, because she slipped out his name once, and revealed to me that he was another quiet kid who silently enjoyed others company.

"Hey, angel. Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah,"

"Good," I said, holding my hand out, "Shall we get home?"

She took it, and slowly followed me to the car, where she sat on her booster seat and strapped herself in.

You see, Gia didn't share my tall genes. She didn't share my genes at all, because I had adopted her last year. However, she did share compassion, and determination, and she was still very much my daughter.

We did have some challenges, especially to begin with, but we liked to think of ourselves as partners in crime. Our home was our 'lair', our rooms were a secret base- I needed permission to enter hers , and she generally asked for permission to enter mine. That was a boundary we shared.

If there was anything in our home I would consider most important, it would be boundaries. Everyone who came in had boundaries that we took time to learn, and respect. It had been the only way to get Gia to truly settle, and benefitted us all.

"What did you do today?"

"Normal lessons,"

"Did you volunteer an answer?"

"Once, but it was wrong,"

"Well that doesn't matter! I am so proud of you for giving an answer. I had a normal day too,"

"Okay,"

School drained her, so we didn't usually talk much on the way home. They were a great school, incredible actually, but it still wore her out. They provided her with their own support staff when needed, and also accommodated her therapist to come in after school on a Thursday. It made it feel more normal, and it was a familiar place, so I was fond it.

When we arrived home, I led her inside and we took our coats and shoes off; she ran to the kitchen and I followed, then got her an apple and cut it up.

While I had a good relationship with food, kept fit, and was pescatarian, Gia was really the opposite. It was by no fault of her own, for the absence of food in her previous homes had truly damaged her understanding that she was entitled to food, as well as that it would still be there the next meal. And though things were getting better, we had a long way to go.

Helping us get there was Francis, her music therapist, which wasn't something I had considered, but was a miracle. Clarissa, the therapist she had through school, had recommended it to me, and it had transformed our lives.

Gia was quiet now, but back then, she didn't speak many words to me at all. She didn't know how, she didn't know what she was feeling, or what it meant. So, when she could express her feeling through instruments, and writing songs, she learnt what she was feeling.