𝟎𝟖𝟒.    𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐱-𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫-𝐨𝐥𝐝

matilda              ────             harry styles

( i had another strange but sweet idea for this chapter?? )

warning: implied mental health issues & suicide, mention of anxiety attack, discussion about death

☀︎ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

𝖠𝖥𝖳𝖤𝖱 𝖡𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖪𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖭𝖤𝖶𝖲 𝖳𝖮 𝖯𝖮𝖯𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖩𝖩 𝖧𝖠𝖣 𝖡𝖤𝖳 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖫𝖠𝖲𝖳 𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖬𝖮𝖭𝖤𝖸，𝖨𝖳 𝖶𝖠𝖲 𝖤𝖷𝖯𝖤𝖢𝖳𝖤𝖣 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖴𝖫𝖣 𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖢𝖳．

It was expected that he wouldn't be... happy.

"I said it. I said it again and again." Describing how Pope feels cannot be said in one word. His emotions are an accumulation of several words── of anger, of frustration, of pissed. It's hard to place his feelings into one definition. "I said don't touch the last of our nugget. That was it. That was the last of our savings. Do you not care?"

"Pope, you saw what happened, man!" I can't look at him which is, well, a first. I can't look at him as he attempts to explain his way out of this one. "He stole it. He cheated and stole it. That's not my fault, Pope!"

I bite my tongue, not wanting to say anything in front of everyone. I'll spare him... for now until we find ourselves alone. Only then will I allow myself to rip into him about how truly stupid his decision was today. I don't care who cheated. I care that he used all the money in the hopes of getting more.

"Do you know how selfish you sound?"

JJ scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "I sound selfish? When I was trying to help us out?!"

"You helped us? You cost us everything. Thank you!"

In my peripheral, JJ looks to me. I know he does. He's wanting me to say something, or at least meet his gaze, but I can't. For the first time in ten years, I can't bring myself to meet the eyes I first fell in love with. I just stare at my feet, wishing I could make myself disappear.

I want to be in the treehouse. Alone.

"JJ, why are you making it sound like you had nothing to do with it?" Kiara speaks my mind── something I appreciate as I continue to chew down on my tongue, anxiety clawing at me.

"Okay, Kie. Kie." His eyes flit from Kiara to me. Again. I can't look at him, not when I feel such contempt towards him at the moment. "You know me, okay? I was gonna bet it all. That's who I am." He speaks so calmly, like he's trying not to upset anyone further── me, especially.

"You should've talked to us first." I agree silently, a slight nod in my head. "It was too risky this time."

"Alright, and what were you doing?!" My head jolts up on its own upon hearing the accusation thrown in my brother's direction like he could've seriously stopped JJ. "You knew he had it and you let him race?"

I open my mouth, prepared to defend him, and JJ notices that I've raised my head in order to do so, but John B speaks first. "He told me last minute!"

"John B, look, man! You were supposed to cover, and if I didn't make it──"

"I did cover!"

"What you were supposed to do was not take the last of our savings and──"

"Hey, enough!" Cleo cuts through the bickering the boys have started. Silence spreads across each of us, giving Cleo the chance to direct her next question towards Pope without anyone interrupting. "How bad is it?"

"How bad is it?" The moment Pope repeats Cleo's question, I close my eyes, seriously wishing I could disappear before I have to hear just how bad it is. "We have a thirteen thousand property tax payment due in seven days. And we have zero working capital. There is nothing." He glances at JJ, distain etched on his face. "And you took the last of our savings. So thank you!"

That's my final straw.

Hearing we have zero working capital── that we have nothing as he so generously said, pushes me to walk off. A tightness spreads across my chest, squeezing and suffocating my heart as I begin to walk away from home. I feel just about ready to hurl when I hear the calling of my name, but I refuse to stop walking.

The burn in my legs is evident, probably because of how much weight I'm putting into walking as fast as I possibly can. However, of course, I don't get very far. Well, a decent stretch of land is between my friends and I before I'm stopped by him.

I come to a sudden stop, my body nearly crashing straight into JJ's as he crosses my path, obviously wanting to stop me from running off.

"Hey." His hand is holding my arm, keeping me grounded, but a large part of me wants to just shrug him off and continue walking. Annoyingly, there's this teeny, tiny part of my heart that is clinging on and staying still. Dammit.

"What do you want, JJ?"

He breathes heavily, probably having ran to catch up with my quick pacing. "Where are you going?"

I sigh, pulling my arm back slowly. "I need a break, JJ. I'm just..." I wave my hand, not entirely sure where I'm going. If I go to the treehouse, he'll just follow after me. I need somewhere else to run off to. "I just need a minute, alright?"

I go to step around him, intent on leaving, but he snatches my arm again. "But are you..." Our eyes meet, an intense yet soft shade of blue in his as he attempts to read me. "Are you coming back?"

I nod, pulling myself away again. "Yeah."

I turn away, not ready to fight, I realise. Right now, all I can think of doing is just leaving and going far enough away so I don't say something I'll regret because, let's face it, I've said and done a lot of regretful things in the heat of the moment, and I don't want to do that again.

He lets me take several steps before he opens his mouth, saying something I can't not say something about. "Are you mad?"

I stop again, staring forward at a tree I probably would've walked into had I not stopped. A heavy, tight breath slips past my lips, my chest feeling taut and like I may collapse at any moment from the pressure weighing on me.

I find that, if I don't argue and say something, I'll never be rid of this tension.

"Yes," I say, turning my body so that I now face him again. "Yes, JJ, I'm mad. Okay? I'm pissed. I've never felt so angry. Well, that might not be true, but I'm still mad." I lift one shoulder in a shrug, my face contorting as several emotions pile up. "I'm angry, JJ, because after everything we've been through to get to here── to get the money and a house and a life we can make something of── you went and threw it all away!"

I see his eyes flare, likely surprised by the sudden raise in my voice, but I feel I have every right to raise my voice. I think he knows that too, he just doesn't want to face the truth that I could possibly be mad at him.

"I just need a minute. I just need a break, alright? I can't just pretend it's okay, JJ, because it's not. We have nothing, like Pope said."

"Screw what Pope said, Brooke. We have each other." The hint of sadness in his tone almost makes me regret saying a word. Almost.

"I know we have each other, JJ." We've always had each other, I know that, but we also have more. "But I can't just stand by you every single time you do something stupid. I did that at the auction, choosing to believe in you, and I'm glad I did because look at this." I raise my hand, pointing to the house and business we created. "But I can't do it again, JJ. I can't defend this, not when we've now lost pretty much everything."

His head drops, my words registering, but it's not enough for him to just hear me, not right now.

"Look, I'll be back later, alright?"

I take a single step back, preparing to walk off because I need a break. "Brooke, come on. Let's just talk, okay? Please don't walk off."

I feel like pulling my hair out, I'm so anxious. "JJ, I'll be back later," I repeat, a stern edge in my voice.

"Brooke. Please just──" He steps forward, going to grab my arm when I yank it back. Harshly.

"No!" The backs of my eyes burn, my throat scratching from the harsh word. "No, JJ. I'm not just going to stand here and talk. I don't want to talk, do you not get that? I'm mad. I'm really, really fucking mad, and I hate being upset with you, but you've upset me, JJ. You spent the last of our money when I specifically told you not to do anything stupid. We all told you!"

"I know, but──"

"No, there's no buts, not in this. You did the wrong thing, JJ, you need to understand that." My voice remains firm, attempting not to crack as my throat swells with every word. "If we don't figure out something soon, we won't be living in paradise anymore. We won't be living like this anymore, JJ. It'll be snatched from us all because you couldn't listen."

I could laugh── I could laugh at how much hurt I feel and at how much I hate this situation. Here I stand, yelling at the one person I never get mad at, wishing the ground would just swallow me up whole because I'm already saying things I know I'm going to regret once the adrenaline settles.

"One thing, JJ. I asked you for one thing── don't do anything stupid, and what did you do? You spent all our money." An exasperated laugh ripples from me, sounding utterly exhausted. "I can't... I can't look at you right now, okay, so just let me leave. I need a break, and if I stay here, I'll just keep yelling at you, and I don't wanna do that. I really don't wanna do that."

He steps forward, wanting to reach me again, but I step back and away from him. "Sunny──"

"No," I breathe out, head shaking. "I just need a break, JJ. Just give me a minute. Please."

I walk away this time, leaving him to stand and watch after me. I don't just need a minute, I need a lot of minutes to wrap my head around the fact that, according to Pope, we have nothing. I've had nothing for most of my life, so I can't go back to it now, not when it's been so great to have something.

That money we had leftover was our safety net, and now it's gone. We're now drowning, unable to keep ourselves afloat, and nobody is coming to save us.

My chest heaves as if I truly am drowning. I can't bring enough air to my lungs as I continue to walk quickly, needing to get as far away as possible from the problems. I press a hand against the pounding of my heart, feeling it rapidly patter against my shaky fingers. I inhale sharply, chest constricting as I struggle to get enough air.

I feel as though I might die.

I'm drowning in the sad fact that we're going to lose all we've worked so hard for. That, after everything, we're going to be back at square one when we absolutely don't deserve to be there.

We can't have nothing, not when we finally had something. How is that fair?

My body slumps against a tree, my hand rubbing against the tightness in my chest like I can unravel it somehow, but I know I can't. I'm choking, continuing to drown in this pool I've created inside my head. My breathing is erratic, unable to be controlled, and nobody is coming to save me from sinking to the bottom of this pit.

Well, if I do die, it's been lovely.

I press my forehead against the wood of this tree, another sharp breath being sucked in, but nothing eases the pressure anchoring me down. I've never felt anything like this, not when my father died nor when my brother "died" or went to prison. This is a new, terrifying feeling that is close to what I imagine death feels like.

I then feel something── a touch. It's so featherlight that I almost don't register it until a voice enters my ears. "You should sit down."

I step away from the touch, heaving in another sharp breath as I stare... down. "Wha──" My eyes blink, registering the person standing before me. "God, kid, you scared the life out of me." I shake my head, wondering if I've conjured this person up in my head, but that touch felt real regardless of how gentle it was.

"I didn't scare the life out of you. You are very much much alive," she states matter-of-factly, shutting me right up.

A little girl stands before me. Small, round face. Delicate, baby-like features. A tiny, sweet smile on her lips. Light freckles adorn her nose, spreading across her cheeks. Brown, wavy hair that sits at her shoulders. Blue gemstone coloured eyes that are so captivating that it's almost impossible to look anywhere else.

I take in the outfit she's wearing── black. That's all she's wearing. This little girl is dressed in the darkest colour possible when she should be wearing bright colours such as vibrant pinks and purples and blues. She'd suit them, I imagine.

She's holding her small hand out to me, expecting me to take it, but I just stare at it, unsure why I'd take this little girl's hand. In fact, I'm just unsure why this little girl is standing before me. She literally appeared out of nowhere while I'm in the midst of a panic attack. Why is she here? Where'd she come from?

"You should sit down," she repeats, her voice full of push and confidence for somebody so small and young. "Here. Take my hand."

Scared of what'll happen if I don't, I take the little girl's hand, allowing her to pull me. She tugs on my arm harder than I thought possible, forcing me to come sit down. "Sit," she instructs, freeing my hand. I do as told, sitting on the jagged rock that overlooks the water. She then joins me, dusting her simple black dress off with her hands.

I look to her, still having some doubt that I've conjured her up in my mind. Then again, why would I conjure up a random child in my head? I'm not that crazy.

She meets my gaze, her blue eyes more intense than any blue I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. "You should breathe," she tells, inhaling a steady breath of her own before releasing it, demonstrating what I need to do. I watch, my breathing rampant and unlike anything I've ever experienced. "Count to ten in your head. Or you can count out loud. If you want, I-I can count, you can breathe."

I just nod, agreeing to whatever this little girl is saying. I inhale a sharp breath, my head feeling dizzy a I attempt to bring enough oxygen into my lungs. "One." I exhale, clutching my chest as my breath staggers out of me. Carefully, I suck in another breath, the tightness still pulled to the max. "Two." When that breath falls past my lips in an exhale, I feel just about close to crying.

"I-It's not..." I shake my head. "It's not working."

"You're very impatient," she jabs, surprising me. "My mommy was just like you── impatient."

I dig my hands into the rock, liking that I'm now sat down and have something to stay balanced on. "Oh, yeah?"

The little girl nods. "My mommy used to have panic attacks," she tells, staring at the side of my face as I look on. "They got bad."

I'm unsure why she's telling me about her mother, but listening is actually better than forcing me to focus on my breathing, so I just talk. "T-They got bad?"

She hums in agreement. "When she got bad, I'd hold her hand." Slowly, I feel the little girl's featherlight touch again as she slots her hand back into mine. Something washes over me── shock, warmth, I don't know, but I suddenly feel a single knot in my chest unravel.

I peer down at her hand in mine before I squeeze my eyes shut, still in disbelief that a child is sitting with me and attempting to soothe this panic attack. Why is she here? Why is she helping me? She doesn't even know me.

"If you talk, you might feel less... scared." Her choice of wording has another knot in my chest unravelling as I consider the weight of being scared. In a way, I guess I am. I'm afraid of what will happen now that the money is lost, now that we will have to resort back to having very little. I'm petrified of not knowing the future.

I glance at her, her eyes seeming to soothe me in a way I didn't think possible. She's just so relaxed, so carefree and brave. For however old she is, she's awfully good at speaking and very confident in the way she presents herself. She's not afraid of strangers even though she absolutely should be, She's simply just existing.

"It's okay." Her lips lift, forming the gentlest of smiles. I wonder if my smiles as a child were this sweet despite everything. "Mommy didn't like to talk sometimes. She was quiet."

I open my mouth, words stuttering out in half thoughts. "W-Where is..." I swallow, throat dry. "W-Where is she?"

The little girl looks out to the water, lips pressed together, that smile no longer there. Without speaking, she raises her other hand── the one that isn't holding mine── and her index finger points up, and everything suddenly slots together. "They say she's in the sun," she explains, her voice awfully calm.

She's wearing black because she must've been at a funeral── a funeral for her own mother. "Oh." I feel another knot unravel as I look at this little girl, knowing she's suffering a great loss but she's still here, existing. She's trying to help me when she should be grieving with her loved ones.

"Do you believe that?" Her head swivels, looking in my direction again. "That people go to the sun?"

I look away from her, glancing up at the sky myself. Describing death as "going to the sun" is something I've never heard before, but it sounds far kinder than simply stating the fact that somebody is dead. It doesn't sound so morbid, so scary to hear that they've gone to the sun which is perhaps why this little girl knows death as that── as going to the sun.

I squint, the sun brightening my face. "Maybe."

"Do you know anyone that's gone to the sun?"

A stutter of a laugh slips past my lips, appreciating how softly spoken she is for somebody who is basically asking if I know anyone that's died.

I nod, head dropping as my eyes skim across the water. "Yeah," I breathe out, feeling another knot unravel deep within. "My dad. I-I think."

Her eyebrows furrow. "You think?"

"He, uh, wasn't always... great," I force out, feeling that previous knot begin to rebind itself as I think of my father. "He was, um, difficult and he made the wrong decisions sometimes, but I'd like to think that, despite everything..." I exhale a breath, lifting my eyes back to the sky. "I'd like to think he's up in the sun too."

"With my mommy?"

Hearing such a small child talk about her mother being dead in such a calming way is bringing a new wave of emotions to me── emotions I never expected to have, certainly not over somebody I literally don't know.

Although, as crazy as it seems, I know this child. I feel as though we're similar in a sense, and that's why she's here with me right now instead of where she should be.

"Yeah, with your mommy," I say, catching the faintest smile on her lips.

"She was the one who told me that people go to the sun, just like people go to the moon." Seriously, however old this kid is, she's incredible at talking. Not a single stutter or a single mispronunciation of a word. I hope her mother was proud of her. I'd like to think that she was.

"I like that── going to the sun. It's nice," I say.

Her shoulder lifts in a shrug. "I think so."

She laughs, the sound tickling me in the softest way. Once again, I feel another knot unravel as I watch this little girl who appears to be so full of life despite the hardship she's suffering. She talks about her pain like it's no big deal, like it's nothing, but I know better. I know that, for as long as she'll live, there will likely always be a part of her that's lost because her mother is gone.

As somebody who hasn't had a mother since she was three, and who's lost her father twice, I know a part of me won't always be intact regardless of how I portray myself.

She doesn't display her hurt, not in the way most people do. She's brave, unbelievably so, and I've only known her for a short minute. I suspect she's had to hide her pain for a long time despite only being so young.

"How old are you?" I ask, wanting to know how many years she's been on this planet to be going through something like this.

"Six," she replies, and I swear I feel a twinge in my heart. "Seven in August."

"At your age I couldn't string two sentences together," I tell her, keeping my tone light and airy so it matches hers.

"Well, I'm pretty smart."

A laugh ripples out of me, her confidence inspiring for somebody so young. "You seem it."

A smile brightens her face. "I told you."

"Told me what?"

"Talking makes you less scared."

She's right. As I've been talking, the pressure in my chest has begun to lift. Her hand is still holding mine, keeping me very grounded and very alive at this current moment. I do feel less afraid of what will happen once I step away from this girl and face the reality that is my life, as crazy as it seems.

I truly thought I was sinking, just about ready to suffocate on my own thoughts when she appeared out of nowhere and basically pulled me from the water.

"Wow." I exhale, my breath not feeling so scattered. "You did it."

She nods firmly. "Yes, I did."

"Thank you," I whisper, swiping my thumb across her knuckles, marvelling in how small her hand appears in mine. I can't believe I've been sitting here with a girl I don't know, letting her bring me back from the edge. I can't believe I just confided in a six-year-old girl.

"You're welcome, stranger."

I huff out a laugh. "Brooke," I correct. "You can call me Brooke."

"Matilda," she replies, and I find that the name absolutely suits her. "It German, and it means to be mighty in battle." Well, I wasn't expecting her to give me the origin and meaning of her name, especially since I didn't give mine, but I guess I should've expected it from her. She seems the type who would be cracked in that kind of knowledge.

"I have no idea what my name means."

"I'll find out for next time."

I raise a brow. "Next time?"

"Can there be a next time?"

I can't, in good conscience, say no to her, not when she's looking at me with such big, pleading eyes. I smile, squeezing her hand, definitely liking the idea of there being a next time. "Yeah."

"Okay."

Have I just made friends with a six-year-old?

"Hey, does this time need to be over? Do you have to be back home?"

I think, in a way, we're both using one another as a distraction── as a way to not face the reality that is our lives. We're seeking comfort in one another despite the age difference, so why does it need to be over right now? She just calmed me down from a panic attack so severe, I thought I was dead, and I can be of some assistance in the grieving department.

I like that I have a friend who doesn't know me in the way everybody else does, so why do I need to part ways with her right now?

Her head shakes. "Where are we going?"

"I have an idea."

──────────────────────────

𝖨 𝖡𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖬𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖫𝖣𝖠 𝖳𝖮 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖤𝖧𝖮𝖴𝖲𝖤．

I describe it as my "home away from home" that I often use as a means of escape. She listens, revelling in how passionately I talk about this treehouse. I tell her all about how much I longed to have this kind of escape when I was her age, and that if she ever found herself needing an outlet, I'd let her run to here.

I may not know her all that well, and I may have been intimidated by her at first, but really how terrifying is a six-year-old girl? As shocking as it seems, I trust her, and I think she has a level of trust towards me too. She's already confided in me about her mother, and about how she ran away from the funeral, needing to escape.

I worry that I'll need to get her back to her house, that the cops will be called and there'll be a giant search for the missing child that I basically kidnapped. She assures me that nobody is looking for her, that the cops will not be called, but I'm afraid that part of me isn't settling.

She now stands in my treehouse, her eyes much like mine when I was first introduced to this place by JJ. I watch her, imagining myself as her. I wonder if things would've been different had I had this kind of getaway when I was her age. Then again, it seems ridiculous to think a treehouse would've made my life all that different at six-years-old.

As I look at her, I find that she fits right in, like she was made to be up here in this tree.

"Wow." She spins in a circle, taking in the space. "This is so cool." The floor creaks as she moves towards the pictures that adorn the furthest wall.

I go to sit down on the many heaps of blankets that JJ and I bring up here most nights. "You like it?"

"I love it," she declares, such volume in her voice. "This is all yours?" She spins again, eyes darting around the house to admire each wall that's decorated in all kinds of artwork and pictures.

I nod, laughing at her bewilderment. "Yeah."

"Did you build it?"

I shake my head. "My boyfriend did." I point to an image behind her── a polaroid of JJ and I.

"Cool." Her eyes lift from the picture, glancing at the sign that JJ made for me. She tilts her head, reading over the black writing, face scrunched. "Who's Sunny?"

"Me." She looks confused. "He calls me Sunshine── Sunny for short."

She hums softly. "I get that," she whispers, gazing at the sign again. "He spelt sanctuary wrong. There's supposed to be a c after the n."

My lips upturn, remembering how disheartened he was over not spelling it correctly after supposedly checking it six times. It was adorable regardless. I probably shouldn't tell him that a six-year-old knows how to spell it and he doesn't. "Yeah, he knows."

She turns, looking over her shoulder at me. "Is he the reason you were scared?"

Right. While she wanted me to talk, I never actually told he why I was so panicked. I didn't think it was appropriate to discuss with a six-year-old, but this girl is the embodiment of a middle aged woman, I swear to God. With how she presents herself, you wouldn't think she was so young.

She plonks herself down beside me, sitting cross-legged with a blanket pulled over her lap. I feel as though I'm about to tell her a story, and in a way, I guess I kind of am.

"Kind of," I answer, tilting my head to glance at the polaroids that span the width of the wall. Kiara had this old polaroid camera that she let us borrow, allowing us to take loads of pictures with the group, with each other. All kinds of pictures now make up the majority of that wall. It's nice. "He did a stupid thing, and I just... needed a break so I ran off."

"Like I did."

"Yeah, just like you needed a break."

"Does he do a lot of stupid things?"

I breathe out a laugh, nodding slowly. "Sometimes, but I know that he doesn't mean to do really stupid things. He thinks he's helping," I say, hoping she understands what I'm saying. "It's just, this time it was a bad, stupid thing that he did, and it definitely didn't help us."

She hums, acknowledging what I'm saying. "Well, if he does a lot of stupid things, it shouldn't be so surprising, should it?"

"No, it's just a bit annoying."

"People can be annoying," she states, a small pout on her lips. "I know a lot of annoying people."

"Oh, yeah? Who's the most annoying?"

Her head drops, eyes honing in on her thumbs that twiddle together. "There's these, uh, people," she begins, sounding unsure. "I think they're going to take me away."

My head rears back. "What?"

"Foster people," she clarifies.

"Why would the foster people take you away? Do you not..." I don't finish my thought, watching as she begins to shake her head, all that previous confidence she had slowly fading. I frown, clearing my throat. "Sorry. You don't have to tell me, but I do have some experience with foster care."

Her head lifts, eyes wide. "You do?"

"They tried to take me and my brother away when my dad went missing."

"You have a brother?"

I smile at the mention of one of my favourite people in the world, and I point to another polaroid of John B and I that we took days after the house was finished. "Yeah. John B. He's my twin brother. Born first."

"Twin. That's cool. You're the same age." She chuckles, leaning her head on her hand as she watches me. "I always wanted a sibling."

"Yeah?"

"An older one, like you have." Two minutes apart shouldn't class him as older, but he would disagree, as would Matilda apparently. "Is it cool having one?"

"Very cool," I reply, smiling. "He's, like, my best friend. My other half. He's one of the greatest people I know, and if you ever get to meet him, I think you'll agree." I could talk about the relationship I share with my brother until I lose my breath, but I don't say much else as Matilda can sense just how much I love and care for my brother.

"How'd you stop getting taken from the foster people?"

"Well, it's a little complicated." I think back to all those months ago── all those years ago when we were taken in by the Ward Cameron who was supposedly responsible for killing our father (the first time). We escaped foster care thanks to him, but he just wanted us under his roof so he could prevent us from getting the gold."My whole life is a bit complicated, too complicated for a six-year-old."

"Hey, I just lost my mom. Mine is complicated." There's no way I'm arguing with a six-year-old over whose life is more complicated. I think, as she's so young, she'd win that battle.

I cross my own legs, pulling a blanket up and over my lap. "Tell me about her."

"She was funny," she begins, ready to spew on and on about this woman who gave her life, and I admire that. I almost envy the fact that I don't have a mother to gush about. "She used to collect plates with animal's faces on them. I think we had every animal ever." Her face brightens as she talks of her mother, similar to how I imagine my face lightens when I talk about my brother. No tears, however, seem to shine her eyes which is surprising given the loss she's just suffered. "She had good and bad days── more bad than good."

"She'd have days where she'd get... scared a lot?" She nods, her throat bobbing as she swallows the obvious emotions eating at her. "Was she still a good mom?"

Her head bobs, agreeing with me. "Yeah, she tried to be, especially on the bad days."

"I'm guessing you miss her."

Despite my mother leaving when I was three and me not knowing any different, I still always wondered what my life could've been like had I had a mother to look up to. I wished I could've known just how similar we are, not just in looks but in skills and personality.

"Yeah," she exhales. "But I'm also mad at her, is that bad?"

"No." And for her to think that it's bad to be mad at someone who's died is crazy. I've been mad at Dad since he disappeared, even more so now that he's died. "I'm mad at my dad too, all the time. Although, like you said, I'm sure he's up in the sun watching me."

Or down in Hell, but I don't dare say that to a six-year-old girl.

She quite literally ignites like the sun upon hearing me say that. "They're both in the sun."

I like that she views death as an almost positive thing, that our departed ones are up in the sky watching over us instead of worm food down underground. I like that she can see the light in losing somebody rather than focusing solely on the negative. I wonder if I ever viewed death in that kind of way. I wonder if I can view death in that kind of way── as somebody leaving to join the sun in the sky.

"So... if we look to the sun, we'll see your mom and my dad," I say, watching as she nods along to that statement. "I wonder if they've met."

"They must've. How else would we have met?"

I hadn't thought to view it like that, but perhaps she's right. It's almost funny how we came to meet, how I was in the midst of an intense panic attack and she just happened to be strolling along. We both needed an escape. We both needed an outlet. We both needed somebody in the moment, and now we're here, confiding in one another in the comfort of my treehouse.

I'm sitting here with a girl who is thirteen years younger than me, seeking a new friend.

"You might be right," I say, liking her idea of our parents meeting up in the sun and forcing us to meet. "You're pretty smart, you know?"

"I'm not pretty smart. I'm very smart." I know that I wasn't this confident at six-years-old, not in any sense of the word, but it's admirable to see somebody so young be so assertive. "I'm gonna be a doctor one day."

"You're gonna be a doctor?"

"The best doctor," she asserts, placing her hands on her hips. I have the upmost confidence in this girl that she will become a doctor, especially with how she displays herself. She'll make an excellent doctor one day, I just know it. "I wanna help people like my mommy."

I feel another pull at my heartstrings. "That's really good. You'll make a great doctor, I'm sure."

I don't say it nor do I ask, but I can only assume her mother suffered from some kind of mental health issue given that Matilda talked about her panic attacks and about how they got so bad to the point that she's no longer here. My heart breaks for her, thinking of her not having any kind of family now that her mother is gone.

"Do you have any other family?" I ask, hopeful that she isn't going to be entirely alone, that she'll have somebody to turn to even though she's already mentioned foster care. She must have somebody, right? I'd like to think we all have at least one person to turn to.

"My grandma's alive," she tells, giving me some hope before she piles on. "She's very old though, and she can't really do much anymore, so I don't think she can take care of me." She shrugs, acting like it's no big deal. "She has nurses that come to the house and she goes to the hospital a lot, so I still think I'll be taken away."

"You have no one else to stay with?"

Her head shakes quickly, and I think I hear a crack in her voice as she talks. "No." A heavy breath is released from her. "I don't know who my dad is, only that he broke mommy's heart before I was born, and I don't have a cool big brother like you do."

"I'm sorry, kid."

I don't know what else I can possibly say other than that. Hearing that somebody so young, so visibly sweet and kind can be going through something like this and still remain calm and happy is beyond me. At her age, I know I'd be a complete shell of a person, but she's still confident and larger than life.

She absolutely does not deserve to be going through this, and if I could do more, I absolutely would because I think meeting her has been a blessing I didn't know I needed.

"A lot of people say that," she tells, her eyes glossing over mine.

"I know, but I am sorry. It's not fair. The world isn't very fair."

"I'm guessing it doesn't get better when you get older..."

I huff out a laugh. "Things for me did get better when I got older, but now they're a bit messy again."

"Because of... him."

"JJ," I tell her, adding another name to her head.

"JJ," she repeats. "You should forgive him." She continues to twiddle her thumbs, her eyes remaining on me. "He might do stupid things, but he did this." She lifts her head, looking at the treehouse we sit in. "And this isn't very stupid."

I take in the treehouse JJ granted me out of the kindness of his heart, knowing this gift is the greatest thing anyone has ever given me. "Yeah. This is far from stupid."

"Also, you don't know when somebody might..." Her head drops, but her face says it all.

"You never know when somebody might join the sun," I whisper, heart feeling heavy once again as I think of something horrible happening to JJ── of him not knowing just how much I appreciate and love him. I can't have that, not when he and I are supposed to be together for the rest of our lives, living out our final days in this treehouse.

Her eyes meet mine, a beautiful shade of blue decorating her irises. "You should forgive him. I'm sure you'll figure out how to fix his stupid."

I exhale a laugh, feeling the back of my eyes burn. "Yeah, I often do."

She glances around the room, admiring the artwork that paint the walls. "Are you an artist?"

"Yeah."

Her eyes find mine once again, a certain light appearing in them now. "Can you draw me something?"

I smile. "Only if you draw me something."

That's what we spend the next couple of hours doing── talking and drawing. I pull out pages of my sketchbook, handing them off to her so she can draw me anything her heart desires. She ends up sketching out three animals── a penguin, a tiger and a giraffe. After every picture, I instruct her to sign the corner of the page with her initials so it makes the artwork hers.

As I sketch out an image for her that I already crafted in my head before she even had to ask me to draw, I talk about my friends as she asks dozens of questions. I tell her about each friend of mine── about Kiara, Pope, Sarah, Emory, Cleo, John B. As I talk about JJ, she tells me that my face is red, but that to be expected.

She talks more about her mother, and I listen closely, admiring the way she brightens the more she discusses her. She tells me about how her mother once drew a mural on her wall in nail polish one night when she couldn't sleep. She talks about the dinners her mother would attempt to make that would almost always end up in failure which would lead to them eating leftovers on paper plates. She tells me how her mother braided her hair almost every single day for school regardless of how bad she was doing.

I love the way she talks, loving how well spoken and assertive she is at such a young age.

When the sun began to set, I watched her wave to her mother who is up in the sun. Believing that my father is up there too, I waved alongside her, both of us saying goodnight to our parents until we see them again tomorrow morning.

I then walked her all the way back to her house, continuing to listen to her ramble on and on in my ear. She told me about how crappy funeral food was, and that she didn't know a single person other than her grandma at the funeral.

She laughed at me when I tripped over a lump of grass which I did not appreciate, but six-year-olds find that shit funny, don't they?

Upon arriving at the small house on the outskirts of The Cut, we stopped by her front door. She insisted that she didn't need me to walk her in, that she'd be okay from here, but part of me didn't want to step away from her. She told me that her grandmother was in the house, that her mother's house was being cleared out at the moment, so she had to stay here, but I really didn't like the thought of leaving her.

I'd made a friend── a friend that's thirteen years younger than me, but a friend nonetheless.

"Here." I rip out the page I drew on, my name signed in the bottom with a simple message that reads, To Matilda. She takes the art from me, her eyes glossing over the simple picture of the sun with an image of a woman tucked inside. I'm unsure what her mother looks like, so I just left the face blank, but she understands the concept.

She places the image against her chest, beaming up at me. "Thank you."

"It was really nice meeting you," I say, clutching my sketchbook that now holds the three drawings she made of the animals she loves. "Thank you for being here today. I really needed it."

"I really needed it," she tells, tilting from side to side as she talks. "I had fun today. It made me forget about... well, you know."

"You made me forget too, kid, so thank you."

"Will I see you again?" The hopefulness in her voice squeezes at my heart, and I just find myself nodding because I cannot say no to her, not after learning all I did over the past few hours.

"Do you wanna see me again?"

She nods vigorously. "Yes," she hisses, grinning.

"Well, we'll find each other, I'm sure." I crouch down, taking the picture from her quickly. "But..." I turn the artwork over, placing it against my sketchbook as I scribble a few words down. "If you need anything or you need another escape, you can use my treehouse whenever you want or you can visit me here. This is my number and this is my address, okay?"

She nods, watching me scribble frantically. I then hand the picture back to her. "I can use your treehouse?"

"Whenever you want, kid."

Just as I'm about to pull myself back up, she throws herself at me, her arms circling around my neck as she presses every ounce of her into every ounce of me. I nearly fall back from the impact, my arms reaching out to clutch her and hold on. For somebody so little, she sure can squeeze, and the tighter she hugs me, the more I don't want to let go.

I feel as though I'm hugging six-year-old me, so I hold on extra tightly, offering her all the comfort I have inside me.

"Thank you, Brooke." Her voice is soft in my ear, quiet enough to make me cry.

"Thank you." Her chin digs into my shoulder as I run a hand down her back. "Keep looking towards the sun, alright? Don't ever stop."

She shakes her head. "You too." She pulls back, offering me the sweetest smile. "Go and forgive JJ, okay?"

I huff out a laugh. "You got it, kid."

I wave a final goodbye to her when she shuts the front door, leaving me to stand and marvel in what just happened. I just spent hours with a girl I don't know, confiding in her like it was the easiest thing in the world.

It was the simplest thing in the world.

I see myself in that little girl. I see her pain, her happiness, her wisdom. I see her.

It takes me a few minutes to step away from the door, but the moment I do, I let the tears fall as a great sense of relief washes over me.

That night, when I go home to JJ, I slide into bed beside him and whisper, "I'm not mad at you."

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❀ soph speaks

this might be the oddest chapter i've ever wrote

this idea of introducing this girl just came to me randomly and i thought i'd just try it out. it was fun and lowkey sweet and something different so i hope you enjoyed

you may see matilda again as i don't want her to just be a one off, not when she helped brooke a lot

thankyou so much for reading!!