The Risks

May: Chapter 7

A/N: Trigger warning for mention of rape in this chapter.

"Sometimes she's lost, sometimes she's broken

Sometimes she's closed, sometimes she's open

Lonely is her favorite place to be"

-Hollow, Belle Mt-

A/N: Hi! Here and there you will find that I've posted lyrics to songs that have served as inspiration for this story. Sometimes, like I have above, I'll add the link to the song so that you can listen if you'd like. Because sometimes it's not just the lyrics that take me into the story, it's the rise and fall of the notes, the swelling or calming of the music, and/or the emotion in the artist's voice. Okay, that's all for now! Enjoy!

We sat round the coffee table in the living room. Oakley had found a box of fingernail polish in the bathroom upstairs and asked me to paint hers bright pink. After making sure it was okay with Parker, I agreed of course and ended up painting mine as well. Definitely not bright pink. I opted for a darker color.

Soon she began yawning and I noticed she'd fallen asleep in the recliner. I sat down on the other end of the couch and pulled my feet up onto the cushion, facing Parker at the opposite end, and wrapped my arms around my knees.

"So what did you do before this?"

"Before what? Coming here?" I asked.

"No," he said patiently, "before the world fell apart."

"What was I doing before this?" I asked, poking a finger to my chest. He rose his eyebrows and I ran my fingers through my long hair. I pulled a ratty curtain of it to the other side of my head then let out an uncomfortable laugh and shook my head.

"What?" He looked confused.

"What's the point?"

"To feel human."

"I'm not doing this."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't matter." My voice had risen, and I glanced at Oakley to make sure she was still asleep. She rolled over, but didn't open her eyes.

When I looked back at Parker I was greeted by that frustrated look again. "Sure it does. Disregarding our past is the first step to letting this world take us. We all had a life before this. We grew up being raised by parents that dreamed we would live extravagant lives. Although what we have now might not seem like much and it's not what they may have pictured, the fact that we lived while so many others died makes us pretty extraordinary, doesn't it?"

"Thanks for the inspirational speech, Gandhi," I muttered, rolling my eyes, but he was still waiting for me to answer. "Fine. If it means that much to you, I'll tell you. I was doing the same thing then that I am now. Taking care of Oakley."

"Helping your mom and George out?" He asked. I was glad he'd stopped referring to him as my step-father.

"Well... kind of I guess. I lost my mom at a young age." I knotted my fingers together. I didn't really want to talk about my personal life.

"So you were a mother figure to your sister."

I had never thought about it like that, but I guess he was right. I made sure she did her homework, gave her baths, and took her to school every morning. I asked her how her day was every day after I picked her up. I fed her, I took care of her. George loved her, but he wasn't much of a fatherly guy. Responsibility of a child didn't suit him well. She was my responsibility and I took it acceptingly. I nodded in unexpected agreement.