The door wasn’t locked. I threw it open, only to find him about to stab himself with a shard of broken glass. “What are you doing?!” I lunged, grabb- ing his hand. “Drop it! Now!”
I was losing my mind. One moment of inattention and he’d almost seriously harmed himself.
He looked a little contrite, wrapped the glass in tape, and tossed it into the trash. “Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want you to get mad.”
The comments sprang to life again: [OMG, he’s so good! Did Cole grow up under so much pressure to be perfect that this is why he’s like this?] [I get it. This is a kid who experienced emotional abuse, even the painting thing earlier. He must have deep psychological trauma.]
Alright, I admit it. My heart went out to him.
I ruffled his soft hair. “If you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep. But you are not to hurt yourself again.”
I handed him a red marker, telling him to use that instead of a blade for now.
The next day, he came downstairs in just his sleep pants, his toned muscles a canvas of red marker lines, looking like a living Greek sculpture.
I almost got a nosebleed. No. I had to rein myself in. In my line of work, getting emotionally involved with clients was strictly forbidden.
escaped to the patio to fuss with the potted plants, but Cole deliberately followed me out, proudly displaying his ‘artwork.‘
“Big sister, the blade you gave me doesn’t hurt when I cut myself.” Hearing ‘big sister‘ from that face was lethal.
My heart was doing a frantic drumbeat against my ribs, but the comments were fuming: [Why won’t this old hag just die already?! How’s the plot
supposed to move forward?] [I seriously can’t stand seeing her interact with Cole. She’s such a fake.] [I’m calling the police! Cole is MINE! Get lost,
you old hag!]
As summer began, thunderstorms rolled in at night. I went downstairs to double–check the windows, fearing they weren’t properly latched, only to
find Cole standing barefoot before the floor–to–ceiling glass.
“What are you watching?” I walked up beside him.
“The lightning. A slight smile played on his lips, as if he were in a good mood. “I love thunderstorms.”
“Want to go out and get soaked for a bit?”
“You trying to electrocute me?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners
“So, you’re afraid to die?”
“I’m afraid I won’t see you again.”
I fell silent, not daring to meet his gaze. “Are you an adult?” I asked abruptly.
“Just turned twenty–two. Ready to get married anytime.”
“You’re crazy…”
The comments reappeared: [Haha, is she worried about jail time?] [Am I seeing things? This old hag is still here? Cole and Lily haven’t made any progress!] [Is the person above blind? It’s painfully obvious Cole likes Big Sister now, okay?!]
“Big sister, are you going to leave?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts,
“Of course. Once you’re stable, I’ll be gone.”
He sighed. “I just don’t get you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“Big sister, do you want me to get better quickly, or never get better at all?”
