Early morning. I was awoken by the sound of people walking around the house, stressing to get done before leaving for work and the school run. Breakfast, teeth brushing and chats. Sebastian screaming and refusing to put on shoes, while Lin ran about trying to catch him and Vanessa collecting her things before the door closed.
I kept quiet in my room, listening to what was going on - not wanting or letting myself to interrupt.
I heard Lin walking past my door, only to stop and open it.
"Good mornin', good mornin'-", he quietly sang to the tunes of Good Morning from Singin' in the rain - which we had been watching yesterday - while opening the blinds.
"Morning", I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes, trying to get used to the light and at the same time look newly awoken.
"Knew you were awake", like he was proving a point like a 5-year-old. "Did you get any sleep?", he asked kindly, inspecting from far away whether it had appeared new scars on my arms, which it had.
He didn't react outrageously, just acknowledged it with a caring look on his face and waited for my answer.
I shrugged my shoulders, putting on a very oversized Hamilton sweater over my pyjamas.
"I-I'll just go get something to eat, mr Sawyer's supposed to call me in like half an hour", I yawned, standing up.
Or, well in exactly 32.5 minutes.
And god knows how long a breakfast might take.

He followed me out and into the kitchen.
"So, what do you want for breakfast, Niñita?", Lin asked, rushing past me, guarding the entry to the actual kitchen space.
"Wai-", I opened my mouth in order to protest, but then hesitated as I saw him higher his eyebrows and looking rather determined, like he wasn't changing his mind.
Maybe I'll have to leave if I keep protesting?
And because of that thought flying by, I shrugged my shoulders and dug even further into the skin on my wrists.
Well, maybe you won't know what's in the food and you'll get sick?
He started to tell me different suggestions, while looking in the fridge and through the cabinets. I didn't quite respond, biting my lip, trying to look appreciative.
You'll get sick. You can't have that. Not that. Maybe that. Not that.
I drifted further and further away, watching his hands gesticulating while taking out a milk carton and the cereal box.
Scratch your wrist until it bleeds or you'll get sick.
Maybe I looked extra approving when he mentioned cereal, like I'd given my consent somehow. Or, maybe because that's what I usually have in the mornings.
You'll get sick. You'll throw up, and we don't want that do we?
He suddenly stopped pouring the milk as his face turned more concerned.
I dug deeper. Bit my tongue. Forcing myself feel the pain I didn't want, yet needed.

He was looking right at it.
Right at me ticking, fixing, routining.
Right at my nails digging into the already old, unhealed, cuts on my wrist.

He put the carton down, almost like he dropped it in order to do something else.
"Okay, that's it. Please, let me cut your nails and you won't be able to do that", Lin said, pulling my hand from the other wrist as I with all my force couldn't do it myself.
I shook my head. Over and over again, as I pressed towards his power.
If you can't do it you'll lose someone.
I don't want to. I have to be able to do this.
You've got to.
I need to.
The thought of not being able to do it was going to kill someone, that doesn't sound rational, does it?, I told myself.
It was like a death threat, just thinking I wouldn't be able to do this whenever I had to.

Yet, I kept going until Lin had a tight grip around both my arms, keeping them separated as he got blood on his hands.
I stopped breathing, paralysed from the feeling of being stuck because of something that wasn't myself.
"Niñita-", was the only thing I heard as Lin began to speak, as I completely zoned out, my head falling down like a an old doll that couldn't stay upright by itself.
I shook my head in protest, kept going even though I didn't know what he was talking about.
Shaking, stuck to the corner like streetlight - a flash of the journalist flew before my eyes.
The panic grew inside of me, afraid of seeing another memory that I was trying so hard to forget.
You've got to scratch the other arm.
The sense of inequality within me began to flow through my veins.
I threw myself free, literally jumping away from him and moving as far away as I could without watching, until I hit a wall.
Along the way and in the span of a few milliseconds I scratched the other arm that I'd been unable to hurt, reopened the cuts until I felt the same amount of pain as on the other side.

And that's when I could breathe. And his face disappeared, the face I saw each time I closed my eyes.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, turning my body around towards him, embracing me.
Lin.
"Niñita. Honey, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that-", he kissed my forehead and caught his breath.
He seemed to be collecting himself, as he continued.
"Let's get you cleaned up, Ruthie", he said, sounding as if he was holding every emotion on hold, forcing the tears back.
"What time is it?", I said, completely focusing on trying to get back to what was normal and everydaylike, once again.
He shook his head, still hugging me as he seemed to smell my hair, taking in every bit of me.
"You'll be done in time, I promise", he whispered calmly; in order to calm my heart rate down.
Blink. Don't protest. Don't make a scene. Do not have another meltdown. They'll leave you behind. Blink.
So I nodded rapidly. Because I knew there were no such thing as this going quickly, even though Lin believed so.
And therefore I trusted him, as I fought every sting and rush of pain as he cleaned up my wounds and wrapped my arms in bandages.
I looked away from it, knowing that I'd done this myself, to myself, because I couldn't stay normal for a second anymore, as I just blinked and blinked and blinked.

And somehow I sat in front of my laptop, the cereal bowl next to it, jeans and a way too big sweater on in order to hide the bandages and look presentable - two minutes prior.
"I'll be in my office, in front of the piano", Lin said, as the Skype ringtone began to chime. I nodded and answered the call a few seconds later, where a smiling mr Sawyer greeted me.

"-well, I know it's far in the future, seeing that you're only a freshman. But, do you plan on going to college?", mr Sawyer asked me about 45 minutes later, and I just looked bluntly at him.
Frankly, I hadn't.
I didn't think it would be possible.
Money-wise.
Yet, now it was.
Grade-wise?
Maybe, as I'd managed to move up to my old math class.
Mind-wise?
Never.
I pointlessly scratched the bandages, but changed quickly to biting my lip while tapping my thigh.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5...
"Not really", I said, trying to sound a bit confident.
He nodded, while seemingly looking down at some paperwork.
21, 22, 23, 24...
"You should look into it, Rue. I mean it. And speaking of, is any of your parents around?", mr Sawyer said, making me feel a bit better of my school self.
"Um, yeah, Lin's here. I could get him for you, if you'd like?", I managed to say, quickly and overwhelmed of what mr Sawyer had said, of which he seemed to be completely cool about.
"That would be great", he said, smiling as I walked over to Lin and his piano of the other side of the apartment.

On the way, which was just a few seconds, all possible thought came over me.
College? I'd never given it a thought, always assuming that I wouldn't be able to afford it. And now maybe I could.
Yet, if I can't manage or even go to school now, how am I going to cope with college?

It's never going to work. You can't even take care of yourself. Just look at today. Blink, will you?

I stopped in the doorway and flicked the light four times as I said;
"Mr Sawyer wanted to talk with you for a bit, but like you don't have to if you're busy-", and with that he smiled and took of his headphones, that were plugged into the piano.
"Sure. Should I be prepared for a certain type of news?", he said, probably referring to my slightly panicked face.
Be normal.
I swallowed, shaking my head and put on a little smile as I tapped my thigh quicker and quicker.
"Don't know, really"
I just hadn't made up my mind yet.

Lin's POV
Rue sat down in her IKEA swivel chair - which I hadn't actually seen here spun around on - as I followed her into her room.
I didn't quite believe her reply, seeing her more than usual worried face.
I stood behind her, saying a quick and quiet hi to Rue while I put my hand on the back of chair, so she wouldn't get scared. I turned my attention to the screen, where mr Sawyer - a maybe 28-year-old Serbian-American guy who put everything he could into his work as a teacher and mentor - was greeting me.
"Well, mr Miranda - I've been meaning to call you, but I figured if you were nearby-", he laughed a little, and I nodded while smiling, putting my hand on Rue's shoulder as I saw her beginning to nervously tap.
"So, as I was asking Rue about college earlier, is that something's that come up at home for you?", he asked, like it was nothing that bothered him. Why was Rue worrying then?
"I mean, not really, considering it's a little far in the future - and I know all schools say that it's best to start preparing early. I went to Wesleyan myself, so obviously I'm going to promote that", I said, chuckling and making conversation while trying to make Rue feel a bit less worrisome.
"Oh, Wesleyan! Went there myself. Best years of my life", mr Sawyer said happily as we both started to ramble about which professors we had and campus for a minute or two, yet I couldn't help but notice that Rue was looking down onto her hands, quietly scratching the bandages.

"Back to you then Rue, I've been talking to the school board - who, you should know, were very impressed by your application last year - and seeing how well you're doing in your classes and extra work, you could skip a year", he said, smiling at Rue, who at first sight seemed to be smiling back, but behind that I could see the panic in her eyes, which didn't make less proud - it just made me worried about what was going on.
"You obviously don't have to, but from what I've seen since I started working with you, and what your grades show is that you could", he turned to me. "I don't think she talks a whole lot about her achievements in school, but she's good", I beamed at her, becoming that proud, and probably quite annoying, dad to my daughter, who looked down - in what I presumed to be - embarrassment. On another note, it could be panic and not wanting to show it.
"Plus, considering the circumstances, it may be a great option for you to graduate early", he said, turning to Rue again, who forcefully nodded when the topic of her circumstances came up, becoming stiff and uncomfortable.
"Thank you, mr Sawyer, so we'll talk about it and come back to you in a couple of days?", I said, trying to, at least, sound like I'm not entirely new at this parent thing and that I've been so oblivious about my own daughter, that I didn't know she was good in school.
"No problem, and don't hesitate on calling me if you've got any questions", I nodded excitedly as we exchanged a few more phrases, as I kept an eye on Rue who didn't say a thing, to later hang up.

"Please tell me you're proud of yourself, Niñita", I said, kissing the top of her head, as she finished tapping, and instead pulled out her maths folder. I took her hand and, since I knew she wasn't going to tell herself that, I made her give herself a pat on the back.
All I got was a forced giggle, as she slowly went back to maths.
"So what do you think?", I walked around her and hopped up on her desk, so that I could finally meet her eyes and face to face.
And there was total panic in them.
Yet, she just smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
"Sure", she forcibly said, biting her lip.
The answer stung, because I could feel how untrue it was.
I glanced down at her notebook, filled to the rim with endless problems, sketches of clothing items and little remember notes in cartoon-like clouds.
One was filled with some formulas I'd forgotten several years ago, another with a call Carson about this and then a line to an unsolved equation with a big question mark next to it.
And another one in the corner, almost hidden, saying Dom, yet I just took my eyes of it and onto Rue.
Her hand was shaking as she tried to write down the number 21, as I could see that she was finishing up a set of 21 blinks.
"Ruth. If you don't want to, you don't have to, alright?"
It was unusual of me using her real name. Often, it was covered up with something like Niñita, Rue, Rue-Rue, Mija, Ruthie or Ruby.
She just shook her head, breaking the top of her pencil so that she had to sharpen it.
"No, no, I want to", Rue said, giving me a smile that could be quite convincing if I didn't know her, yet there was no emotion there - just a monotone dial tone on hold, saying that you're number 24601.

She'd been like this since she came back. Monotone and muted, and then suddenly there was a forte.
It was like she was trying to hold up the curtain before it fell, every second of the day.
I looked out of her window, where construction was happening. The sound was literally drilling into my ears, yet I didn't know if Rue was aware of the drilling noise at all.
Yet, wasn't going to leave until she gets aware of it. I wasn't leaving until she says something that wasn't a lie.

The quiet between us didn't seem to be a problem for her, as she just continued, focusing on anything but the thing Mr Sawyer said.

She moved to the next math problem, her hand shaking from the exhausting process of holding everything back.
She seemed to look at another cloud of remembrance, which read don't have another breakdown. A little wet spot fell next to it, a tear from the river she was holding back.

The weight on my shoulders grew even heavier.

I delicately took the pen out of Rue's hand and put it in her cactus pen case, taking her hand as I hopped of the desk and crouched before her, so we were the same height, looking at her teary eyes as she tried to hold them back in front of me.
"As your Dad, I'm your constant cheerleader, helper, listener, talker, carer, ghostbuster, storyteller and shoulder to cry on. And the certificate in the Ruth folder indicates that I will always be that", I whispered.
There were more tears, now falling onto her jeans, making them dottier and dottier, as she breathed heavily, drying them in order to make it stop.
"But that also means that I know you. I know when you're not feeling great, when something's up or when nothing in the world can bother you, because you're that happy", I stated, just as quietly as before as I leaned in and put my forehead against hers. "Yet I can't read your mind. I have no idea what goes on inside your head, and I wish I knew so that I could at least understand or help you-", but that's when her weeping, quiet, vocals cut me off.
"No, you don't", she breathed heavily in between her cries, saying it quickly.
"Well then, tell me"

There was a pause.

"It's a lot", she managed to say, taking a deep breath. I dried her tears with my fingers, even though it didn't do much.
"I know, Niñita, I know", I whispered, nodding, as the words slowly broke my heart.
I took a deep breath, holding it in for her.
"I can barely take care of myself. I haven't been to school regularly in months. How would I cope with more work? You or V or anyone a has to stay home with me in case I'll do something stupid or spiral or get kidnapped or get stuck or don't eat anything for the entire day or have a meltdown or nightmare. And college. I, I didn't think I would be going and now apparently I could and that means more work and-"
She went quiet, like her mind finally caught up with her talk, that had been going turtles all the way down in a spiral.
There was another cloud of remembrance saying think before you talk, almost angrily written.
I hugged her tightly.
And another post-it, that was put up on the wall behind her, next to a - very organised - ten others, read:

Think; Is the thought rational? Does the thought make sense? Does its consequences seem real? Why should you do it? Repeat.

It wasn't her handwriting, making me believe it was something dr Noma had done for her, but the post-it-note was so colloquial that I hadn't noticed it before.
I let go of her and looked right into her eyes, that were blinking and blinking.
"I hear you, little one, okay?", hoping to get her attention. "No one - including yourself - is gonna make you do anything if you're not okay with it"
All of a sudden, Rue stopped blinking at 80 miles per hour. She looked at me, almost in relief as if she hadn't expected or even anticipated that answer.
"Thank you", Rue mouthed, and a little whisper coming through at the end of the sentence.
I smiled a little in response to her being herself, and yet seconds after she started blinking again.
Biting her lip. Helplessly scratching her arm. Tapping her thigh, her hand, her stomach.
Her movements were almost invisible, so delicate to the motion so I wouldn't notice.
But I always do.
I'd always recognise her, night and day, wherever I went.
Mi Niñita.
She'd gone monotone again, hiding her tics that were nagging in the back of her head, wiping her tears away like she was covering up her own mess.
I took her hand.
"Niñita?", Rue responded by looking at me, almost confused and hazily. "C'mon, let's watch a movie, alright? We only got halfway through Singin' in the rain the other day"
Rue halfheartedly smiled, and followed me into the living room, where I pressed play and the second half of the 1952 film began to play.

I watched Rue, as she watched the musical, barely able to take her eyes of the TV - if it was because she found it as great as I, or whether she wasn't allowed to move - I wouldn't know.
Because I don't know her mind.
I can barely get my head around mine at times.
But, I'll do anything to help her.
Because I'm her dad.
Even when she doesn't know what that means.
Even when she falls asleep in front of one of my favourite movie musicals.
Even when she screams because of a nightmare that I didn't know about, that she wouldn't tell me about.
Even when she'll break my heart, because there's nothing I can do.
Even when I'll tell Vanessa that it's bad today and we'll both exchange that knowing look, nodding towards each other.
Even when she barely eats and forces three bites of mac and cheese down.
Even when I have to tell Sebastian to take it easy because his Hermana wasn't feeling great and he pets her head as she tried to watch Chuggington with him.
Even when I leave for work and Vanessa stays home, I know she'll do the same.
We both will.
We'll both try to make her feel better.

—————
Hey there, everyone!👋
Been a while. Sorry about that. So to make up for that time, enjoy a 3500 word chapter😌

Since my last update, I've finished my first year of Gymnasium and started my summer holidays and working a bit more often. The last weeks were filled with exams and essays and final projects; but hey, I made it out alive! And with a great result, too. Which is why I'm giving myself a pat on the back, just like Rue should, even though I don't acknowledge myself that often💓
Well, this year hasn't been as stressful as I thought it was going to be, but it still takes a toll on you - even when the classes are fun and teachers are great. So, yep, I'm looking forward until next year in order for more fun classes like Film & TV production, Photography and Media-production. And the standard ones too, obv!🎞📷

And Rue, our Rue. It's not easy for her at the moment. And neither Lin or Vanessa are finding it easy either, which is why I included Lin's POV today💐
So, there's a lot going on for Rue and she can't handle it, whether she likes it or not, and instead of facing it head on - she copes by focusing on going back to normal🤷‍♀️
And Dom. He's getting a much central role soon, I promise you!🙃

Well, have a great day and please, leave a vote if you'd like, maybe a comment and if you feel like it, share the story💓

Sincerely,
H

Published: 28th