Motherless

Trust and Comfort

--- Talia

After Melody and I finished our meals, we washed and dried the dishes, cleaning up whatever mess we made in the kitchen. It was mostly simple stuff—spilled sauce, crumbs, that sort of thing. We headed back to the living room, and I noticed that look again on Melody's face. The one that makes my stomach twist and my heart race. I hate it because it usually means she's about to ask me something that makes me nervous.

"Honey?" she said, and I turned to look at her. "Yes?" I replied, feeling a bit hesitant.

"It's completely your choice whether you want to take those photos tonight or tomorrow. I just want to take you to the police station tomorrow, because the quicker we do this, the better." She spoke with that calm but firm voice she uses when she's being serious.

I hesitated, then asked, "Can we do it tomorrow?" My voice was small, almost like I was afraid she'd say no.

"That's fine, baby," she said with a gentle smile. "But one more thing." I knew there was always "one more thing" with Melody, so I waited. "Are you in any pain?" she asked, her voice soft but full of concern.

I looked down, avoiding her gaze. I didn't want to be a burden. "No, ma'am," I said shyly, trying to convince her that I was fine.

But Melody wasn't buying it. She reached out, gently gripping my wrist and pulling me to sit beside her. "Lia, look at me, please. I always tell you this, and don't lie to me. If you're in pain, I need to know." Her eyes were full of worry, and I couldn't bring myself to lie to her. I looked up and met her gaze. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Y-yes, I'm in pain, but it's not bad like usual. I can handle it."

Melody stroked my hair, her touch soft and comforting. "When you say it's not bad like usual, can you tell me how bad it usually is on a scale of one to ten?"

I thought about it, trying to find the right words. "It's like a 15/10," I said, knowing it sounded extreme but also feeling like it wasn't enough to describe the pain I usually felt after everything.

She sighed and pulled me into a hug, which I gladly accepted. Her vanilla scent wrapped around me like a warm blanket in front of a fireplace. "Baby, I'm truly sorry that you have to endure all that pain. No matter what it takes, I'm going to ensure that you never have to go through that again." Her words felt like a promise, and for the first time in a long while, I felt safe.

After we separated, she stroked my cheeks gently. "I'll be right back with something to help with the pain," she said, then dashed off to another part of the house.

She returned not long after with a first aid kit and a pill bottle. The sight of those little oil capsules made my stomach turn. A part of me wanted to down them all, to just numb everything away, but I knew that wasn't the right way to handle things. Melody poured me a glass of water, then handed me a pill for the pain. I swallowed it with a gulp, feeling the coldness of the water soothe my dry throat. I was relieved but also a little anxious about what was next.

Melody then asked me to take off my shirt so she could check for open wounds. I felt nervous, knowing she'd see my damaged body, but I nodded and slowly pulled it off.

I watched her reaction, expecting her to be disgusted, but she showed nothing but concern and care. "Okay, baby, it's going to be okay. All I'm going to do is clean some of these wounds. I'll try my best not to hurt you. Can you lay down for me?" she asked gently.

I lay down, and she carefully cleaned my wounds from front to back. It hurt, especially when she applied too much pressure, but she was gentle, almost like her hands were feathers grazing over my skin. When she was done, she offered to apply a numbing cream, and I let her do it. Melody's touch was so gentle, like she knew exactly how much pressure to use to avoid causing me more discomfort. I appreciated her care—it was as if she was afraid of hurting me, even unintentionally.