Falling Colors

Chapter Thirty-One: For the Ones Left Behind

      “Lay down,” Wiley instructed, holding a black Sharpie in his hand.

       After Avery’s outburst Cleo had Wiley bring in a roll of white butcher paper, unroll it and cut out five, six-foot long pieces of it.

        Once that was done, Cleo called Bria over and told her to lie down, then proceeded to trace Bria’s body.  It was like how I used to do it with my friends from elementary school on the sidewalk with chalk.

        “So what we are doing today,” Cleo bad said while tracing Bria, “is a type of art therapy.  We are going to use paint and color in our outlines starting at the core, what makes us who we are, and working our way out to what we appear to be at each layer. You’ll use different colors and they will represent something or someone who has made you “you”.”

        Slowly I lay back on the paper and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to stare at Wiley while he traced me.

       I felt his has lightly brush the inside of my thighs.  My body stiffened and twitched in discomfort. 

      “Sorry,” he mumbled slowly drawing up the outside of my right leg.

       He went around my bandaged hand, tracing the mitten shape.  I held my breath, hoping it would be over before my lungs burst for air.  It felt odd having someone touch me after not having skin to skin contact in such a long time.

     “Sorry,” he repeated.  “I hate being touched by people I don’t know, too.”  I’ll try to be more careful.” 

      I let out my breath and tried to ignore the anxiety I was feeling.

      “These bandages look to be covering something pretty nasty,” he commented going up my arm and to my shoulder in one swooping motion.  “Cleo said they diagnosed you with SPD.  I dated this one girl when I was in Portland that had it.  She wore gloves to stop herself from doing it.  You should try that, I mean, your hands are going to be scarred pretty bad, so you’ll probably want to cover them so people don’t stare, anyways.”

     Peeping open one eye, I looked at his two-toned eyes that were concentrating on tracing my body.  He had his bottom lip pulled into his mouth as he went down my other arm. 

      Glimpsing out of the corner of his eye Wiley looked at me and raised his eyebrows in a friendly notion, then went back to concentrating on his task at hand. 

       A minute later, Wiley stood up, cracked his knuckles, and held a hand out to help pull me up.  Taking his hand, I was pulled to my feet and then directed to go grab a watercolors pallet and hang my tracing up on the wall by the others.

      “Avery!  You’re up!” Wily called.

     “Don’t tell me what to do,” Avery grumbled walking over and lying down on the new piece of paper that had been laid down.

       “Always the charmer,” he commented and began tracing at one of her feet.

      “Don’t you try copping a feel,” Avery scowled.

      “What’s there to feel?” he asked, not look up.

      I walked over to where Bria and Felix had their tracings tacked to the wall and then grabbed my watercolors, paint brush, and cup of water.

       Bria had already colored some of hers in and Felix was doing pretty well.

     Staring at my outline I then turned to compare it to Bria’s.  Hers was extremely thin and could have probably fit into my own.