Request Prompt: Demi's family is bombarded by paparazzi, which forces her eldest daughter into a younger headspace (requested by Emma3671)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Demi's POV~
As I turn onto my street, I can already see paparazzi with their cameras. I curse under my breath as the flashes and shouts begin. My youngest daughter, Mila, cries loudly from her car seat, the persistent men pressing against the car frightening her.
"Emma, can you please try to calm your sister down?"
My eldest daughter nods from the passenger seat, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing to the back row of seats as I slowly trudge the car through the seemingly growing sea of bodies. I firmly press on the horn, but they're relentless. Even more paparazzi swarm around the car as I drive up my driveway. Pressing the buzzer attached to my visor, the large black gate swings open, and I accelerate, quickly making my way through before pressing the buzzer again and allowing the gates to close before the men can get any closer to my house.
"They're so irritating," I grumble as the three of us enter our house, me carrying a still fussy Mila. "Don't you think, Em?" I place my purse and Mila's diaper bag on the dining room table.
She mutely nods, her eyes focused on the ground.
"Hey," I tilt her chin up with the tips of my fingers. "I'm going to go feed your sister but know that they can't hurt you, baby-girl. Okay?"
Another nod.
I sigh, knowing that silence is one of her coping mechanisms for her anxiety. I've never really understood it. When I was dealing with my anxiety as a teenager, and even sometimes to this day, I feared to be alone because it would usually lead me to punish myself in some way. But Emma seems to be attracted to the solitude of silence.
Entering Mila's nursery, I claim a seat on the white rocking chair.
"You hungry, baby-girl?"
She releases a loud gurgling squeal-like noise, causing me to giggle.
I begin to breastfeed her, cradling her tiny body against mine. When she's finished, I burp her and place her in her crib.
Suddenly, Emma charges through the doorway, frowning and glaring.
"No, mommy!" She screams. "I-I'm your, baby-girl, not her.'
"Emma, how old are you?"
"Four."
Another one of Emma's coping mechanisms is to drift off into a headspace. Punishing myself was to me as Emma's headspace is to her, a release from reality. It soothes her anxiety, and, although I know that I shouldn't feed into it, I feel guilty when I don't, as if I'm neglecting her or something. While in her headspace, she is no longer eleven but can be just about any other age younger than her own, tending to be a more carefree, worriless age. With some of her headspaces, like right now, she'll lash out in a jealous, attention-seeking manner, especially towards her younger sister. I sometimes wonder if it has to do with her being adopted, but she never does give me a solid answer when I ask.
"You don't love me anymore, mommy!" She crosses her arms over her chest, jutting her lower lip out in a pout.
"Of course I love you, baby-girl."
"No," she shakes her head. "You love Mila more."
"That's not true, Emma,"
She falls silent, staring blankly ahead.
"Emma?"
She plops down on the floor, sitting with her legs straight out in front of her.
"Emma, how old are you?"
Her gaze shifts to me. Because I am receiving no reply, I am assuming that she is in a headspace of younger than two. This makes it more difficult for me to be able to understand her.
"Foo, ma-ma!"
"Food? Are you hungry?"
She nods.
Nibbling on the inside of my lower lip, I grab a can of sweet potato baby food and a canister of apple puff snacks from Mila's diaper bag. I place the two items in front of Emma. Giggling, she swipes the two items away with one swing of her arm.
"Emma, how am I supposed to feed you then?" I rhetorically question.
"Milk," she slowly pronounces each letter sound, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
"Like Mila?"
She nods, clapping twice. I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the rocking chair. I breastfeed her like I did to Mila, stroking her hair until her eyes close and her breathing slows.
I carry her to her bedroom, and, as I am trying to tuck her into bed, she clings tightly to me, refusing to let me go. With an amused smile, I climb onto the bed, laying down beside her with my arms wrapped around her abdomen from behind. I eventually allow my eyelids to drift close.
~
"Morning, baby-girl," I grin at her, still dazed by sleep.
"Ma-ma!" She returns the wide smile, and I raise my eyebrows, surprised that she's still in her headspace.
"What do you want to do today, baby-girl?" I absentmindedly ask, running my fingers through her soft, light brown hair.
She shifts closer to me.
"Do you want to just lie here and cuddle until your sister wakes up?"
She nods. I bring her closer to me, knowing that she's been craving my attention lately and feeling guilty for not noticing it sooner.
"I'm sorry, baby-girl, but I'm here now," I kiss her cheek, aware of the fact that she probably won't even remember being in her headspace later on.
