Splintered

Chapter Twenty-Four: Bitter with the Sweet

Mia's mother possessed her daughter's eyes, or maybe it was the other way around. Plum-grey circles cradled each, undoubtedly the leftovers of hours of sleepless sorrow. 

Despite the gauntness of her bone structure, a gentle expression filled her face and she clung to a rounded bundle wrapped in foil. Yet she remained rooted in the doorway. It was as if the connection between mind and muscles was faulty.

Hazel willed her shoulders to relax and mustered up a cotton-soft smile. Even if it was a veneer, she wished to appear at least moderately at ease, welcoming perhaps. The less she resembled a victor embroiled in a semi-hostage situation, the better it was for all of them.

"Hey there..." Hazel ventured gently, not moving toward the traumatized mother.

Nibbling on the flesh of her lip, she continued to hesitate, almost as stationary as the uncanny bull statue.

Annoyance flared over the faces of the two guards, impatiently waiting in the hallway. "Move." A sharp command caused the woman to jolt, crinkling the foil in her shivering grasp.

"I've got her." Brindle materialized at the woman's side. "It's all right, Naii." He addressed her delicately, like she was his own mother. Placing a loose grip on her elbow, he guided her inside. Yielding, she clung to him like a tow rope.

"You've got ten minutes." The unfamiliar peacekeeper announced before sealing them inside. "Courtesy of Senator Snow."

An eerie pause stretched between the three strangers.

Hazel bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She desired to tell them so many things, but now that they were here, the words had abandoned her.

Though it was wholly unnecessary, as soon as Hazel opened her mouth, Brindle surged forward, sheathing her in a crippling embrace. He smelled of grease and peroxide. Smudges that were too brown to be blood smeared his arms and clothing. His lanky body was quaking as he murmured, "Thank you."

Hazel patted his back. Instantaneously, tears burned behind her eyes. She battled to keep them at bay. However, a congested sniffle from him damaged her resolve. "I promised him I would watch over him."

His reaction fed into hers, eroding her already fragile control. "I know," she murmured.

After another quivering squeeze, Brindle withdrew. His irises grew glassy as he studied her. "Why?"

"Like I said..." She choked out, attention dropping to her pale knuckles. "No evidence."

"Of course." He swiped a smudged sleeve under his eyes.

"If things had been different..." Hazel shuddered, her voice failing her, "It might've been my family."

Naii inched forward, tears filtering down her cheeks. Brindle's actions having instilled within her confidence to approach. Now that she was closer, it was evident her fingers and forearms were peppered with anemic slivered scars.

"Thank you, Miss," Naii whispered, offering up the aluminum package.

Hazel crept to her, drawing the still-toasty bundle into her palms, "Kolaches?"

Naii nodded, clasping her hands over her heart. "Apricot."

Mia's favorite.

Hazel coughed out a quiet, "You didn't have to."

"I did." Naii's voice solidified, "My Mia would've wanted it."

"Are you a chef?" Hazel questioned.

"No." Naii buried her hands in her blood-dyed pockets. "Slaughterhouse, like most everyone else."