5

I feel too tired to even use my shapeshifting ability, but I force myself to go into disguise anyway, even when I don't have the motivation to do so. Glaring in the mirror, I still look sick. It's like someone took a human skull and tried to make it seem alive again. I wouldn't be surprised if people cowered away from me as I passed them on the street. I am more unhealthy than ever before. Mentally and emotionally.

I don't even want to make myself look presentable. With my dark, wrinkled jeans and thuggish, gangster-esque jacket, I look like a bastardous old punk. Edgy, Rudy would've called me, like she has done so many times before. Before, it sparked a sense of humor and joy. Now it just hurts.

The bandage on my neck is still visible, as well as the many scars that I have given myself before. They are faint and grey. I still feel their heat when I grow anxious or angry. It's so tempting to try and tear them open again until everything's too numb to even burn. But I've controlled these urges to the best of my ability, and people have told me that they are proud to see that I have taken care of myself.

It's a warm feeling, hearing people say, "I'm so proud of you," or, "You've done such a good job." Throughout my entire life, I've stayed alone with only enemies and cold, malicious grudges to fight off. That's how I learned to control my emotions, my facial expressions, my fake smile that I would stretch my mouth into whenever someone tried to intimidate me. My composure was stupendous. Now, with people to care for, it's difficult to seem stoic and emotionless. Now I want everybody to know how much I suffer through, and I want them to love me despite all my flaws. It's difficult explaining all of this to a simple mind, but to the people who are close to me, the ones that I now call family, they understand.

I mess with my hair a bit, combing the short strands back with my fingers. Then I sigh, turning away from my miserable reflection and doing my best to walk back to the living room. My posture is stiff, back hunched and knees buckling back and forth. I hope that I will at least stay awake, because all I want to do is sleep. I don't know if I can even keep my eyes open.

I saunter out the door anyway, collapsing onto the couch as I wait for the others to get ready.

"You know, I don't remember the last time I drove a car," Winsome rambles. His tanned hands caress the steering wheel, almost playfully. It's as if he's trying to forget what happened last night. It must be easier for him. "Back in the Demon World, we ain't got anything like this. In fact, all of our vehicles are bizarre as hell!"

"You still remember what it was like there?" Jess asks curiously. He's sitting in the passenger's seat, leaving me behind and alone. My neck and shoulders are already aching from having to scrunch up; this car is rather small.

"Ah, yeah." Winsome shrugs. "It's been a long time since I've got kicked out. But I'm glad I got kicked out, y'know? I met you guys."

"What did you get kicked out for? Was it . . . thievery, maybe? Or were you pranking all the other demons?"

Winsome giggles like a child, eyes beaming at Jess. "Nah, seńor. Demons do that all the time, even in other places."

"Well, then what did you do?" Jess asks.

Like the clown he is, Winsome winks, his long eyelashes still visible in his humanly form.

"For a few decades, I never paid my taxes."

They continue to joke around and chat like oblivious machines, casting a few glances to me every moment or two but never inviting me into the conversation. I glumly stare out one of the windows. It's the perfect day to go outside, with the warm sun and puffy clouds. I roll down the window at my side and take a breath of the fresh air, and somehow, I feel a little bit more hopeful. Perhaps this will wake me up, even just a little bit.

Then we pass by a patch of bright pink flowers, and that ounce of hope inside of me dies. Doubt drags me back into its home.

After what seems to be years, Jess finally perks up. "How are you feeling, Ormad?"

I try not to glower at him. I could write an entire book about how I'm feeling. "What do you think?" I mutter. "Rudy's gone."

The boy's joyful light burns out, a hurt shadow replacing it. I don't know if it's for Rudy or me, or maybe himself for having to deal with such a moody monster.

"Well . . . she'll get better," he assures me, forcing his smile.

"How do you know?"

Jess freezes for a moment, eyes widening. He quickly turns around in his seat. Winsome tenses as well. "Hey, maybe I can heal you up," Jess offers hastily. "You didn't want it before, but I think it's better. Maybe it'd be easier for you to speak."

"Did you visit her?" I lean forward a bit, trying to get him to look at me.

"Yeah. Of course. She's doing fine. She's got stitches and stuff." Jess rubs the back of his neck. "But-"

"-but they didn't let him in," Winsome interrupts abruptly. "The doctors just said that she needed rest. That's all."

There is a foul aura in the air that I can sense, one of deceit and regret. I squint my eyes at them. They're lying, one voice says in my head. And then, No. They're your family. They would never lie to you. I despise this strange, hollow and intense fire inside of me. That doubt in the back of my head almost taunts me.

"Could I see her?" I ask hesitantly.

"Uh- well-" Winsome shrugs. "I can't really answer that right now, Maddy. I'm driving."

"They said that she needs rest," Jess reassures hastily. "I don't think we can see her. Yet."

Before I can inquire anything else, Jess interrupts me. "Oh! There's Akilah!" He exaggerates his point by wildly flailing his hand, pointing outside.

Like a magician, the girl appears, her mint green hijab flowing in the wind. She is pudgy and out of shape, but she walks tall and strong. She almost regards the cement she stands on with a royally confident look, her lips pursed into a thin line. Akilah's dark skin is turned golden brown by the sun, and her almond eyes shimmer elegantly. No wonder why Rudy likes her; she has someone her age to look up to.

Behind Akilah is the ice cream shop, and compared to her, it is bland and forgettable. Rudy has asked me many times before if I could allow her and Akilah to be officially titled as girlfriends, and though the idea is cute, I'd rather not have them be together at an age so young. But if it makes my little girl happy, then I will allow them to be a couple.

If only she were here.

Winsome and Jess step out of the car first, and I almost drag myself to follow them. I don't want to be here. I just want to go home. I just want to see her again. She would love to have some ice cream with us. But she's so far away . . . That hole in my chest grows, deeper into my cold, dead heart.

As Akilah looks us all in the eye, her gaze gently settles onto me. The girl's calm expression suddenly turns into one of concern. She must be wondering why I'm out in such an unhealthy state. Immediately, she walks to me, looking me up and down as I tower over her.

"Why are you out here?" the child asks. "I thought that you'd want to stay at home."

I force a smile, and it wavers. "Oh no," I answer, trying to keep my tone from shaking. "I'm fine, Akilah. Going out for fresh air is . . ." I fish for the word that will make me sound convincing. ". . . soothing."

She frowns. "Are you sure? Because after what happened . . ."

"He's okay," Winsome interrupts. "Maddy's good." His green eyes shift to me, trying to lighten the mood by passing a kind smile on his face. But I don't return the enthusiasm.

Jess bursts into the conversation and leaps towards Akilah, wrapping his thin arms around her shoulders. "Hi, Aki!" he greets excitedly. "Thank you for coming out here with us!"

The girl softly smiles, patting him on the back. "I'm glad to be with you." Then she looks up at Winsome, smirking. "You're coming along, too?"

"Aiya, Aki!" he exclaims. "I just want the ice cream, that's all."

They all laugh at the subtle joke, leaving me out of the group.

I can't help but feel a bit isolated. Look at them, all happy, smiling at each other and acting like I'm not here next to them. And then there's me: a grim, grave, grumbling and grouchy. I don't even want to force myself to look like them. Feigning my joy feels uncomfortable, for some odd reason.

"I'm here, too," I murmur, quietly enough so that they don't hear.

We enter the ice cream shop, the sweet smell of many flavors and ingredients floating in the air. It fights against the gloominess surrounding me, and, being weak and tired, I let it take me over. Even if it only irritates me, I will at least try to forget what happened. Just for a little while.

There aren't many people in the shop today. Just a few children and couples sitting at the booths and tables. Jess frolics over to the cashier, looking at the displays with wondrous eyes. Winsome follows close to him. Akilah, meanwhile, stays by my side. She gently tugs on my sleeve.

"I'm sorry for what happened," she cooes. "I'm really sorry."

I sigh. I wonder how many times people will tell me that. I'm sorry, they'll say over and over again. For what? My loss? The reminder that Rudy is bleeding out, away from my loving arms? Akilah stays silent, not wanting to interrupt my dark thoughts.

"It's not your fault," I mutter, staring at the colorful pastel tiles on the wall. "It's mine."

"No. Don't blame yourself for it. You didn't do anything."

"I wasn't there." I look at Jess and Winsome as they begin to discuss what flavors and toppings they want. "I could've come home earlier."

"No, no." Akilah crosses her arms, almost seemingly scolding me like a parent would to their child. The comparison hurts. "The blame isn't on anyone. Rudy got hurt, but we don't know who did it. And you didn't stab her, and I didn't stab her. We don't know who broke in and did it to her, okay? So don't put the blame on yourself." She smiles softly at me. "You didn't do anything bad."

I swallow a lump down my throat, my gaze wavering as I stare at the wall again. That's all I want to hear. Someone relieving me of my stress and guilt. Deep down, I feel a spark of gratitude light inside of me. "Thank you," I manage.

Akilah leans against my arm for a few moments. Now that I look at her, her hijab shapes her face into a heart. She pushes all that love to me.

"Aki, Ormad." Winsome saunters over to us, his green eyes glimmering like emeralds. Obviously, his mood has been lifted, just like mine. "What do ya wanna get?"

"I like pistachio," Akilah answers. "Chocolate chip for toppings."

In front of us, Jess turns around, scrunching his nose up in humorous disgust. "Pistachio is a flavor? Ew."

"What do you mean, 'ew'?" Akilah exclaims. "It tastes good! Superman is the bad flavor."

At that, Winsome shoots her a look of horror, but he grins along with them. "Excuse me, Aki, but the more colors, the better!" He stands straight, making him stretch with an almost hilariously pompous posture. "In fact, there are so many colors that you can't taste anything."

They all laugh, and I find myself shedding the smallest of smiles.

We take our frozen treats out into the park, where we sit at a bench and chat amongst ourselves. It smells sweet and cool. Jess and Akilah are talking about schoolwork and teachers, Winsome making fun of them every so often. "What are you kids doin', makin' fun of those poor grownups?" he jokes. "You should be pranking them instead!"

I chew at the plastic spoon in my hand, nervously thinking to myself. I highly doubt that it's okay for me to be so calm when Rudy's in the hospital. But she wouldn't want to see me so glum, would she? I'm sure she wouldn't. In fact, she'd most likely love to see me doing anything but mourning for her.

Looking at the purple ice cream in front of me, I wonder what flavor Rudy would've gotten if she were here. I have taro; she most likely would get something to match with me. Perhaps something pink, like strawberry. I don't know. Thinking about such sweet things like this relieves the leftover stress, and I instead focus on finishing my ice cream instead of Rudy's current state. It soothes the wound in my throat.

Akilah scoots closer to me, tugging on my sleeve gently. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," I reply.

As if I had just told her a miracle, she beams brightly. Her eyes shine a dark hazel. "Good!" she exclaims. "I'm very glad."

In the wind, a lock of her curly hair escapes from the shelter of her hijab, and she bats it aside, tucking it back in. Her organization and tidiness is a large contrast to Rudy, who rarely gives a damn about how she looks or what she does.

Seeing Akilah and I closer to each other, Jess decides to follow. He scoots up right next to the girl, still finishing his mint ice cream. "I'm glad, too!" he says with a mouthful of the cold dessert. "Maybe you can come over to my house! My mom wants us to have a dinner together. With Brody and Elysse, too."

Excluding Rudy, Jess, and Akilah, Brody and Elysse are two other psychic children. They are as close to Rudy as everybody else is, but Brody seems to share the strongest bond with her. They're like brother and sister, and it's heartwarming to look at their interactions. Too bad Rudy won't be here tonight.

"I'm coming," Akilah says.

"Me too," Winsome adds on, peeking over Jess' shoulder. "Seńorita Denbrak cooks very well. And I love eating all the food she makes."

"She's making steak tonight," Jess explains. "I don't think you've guys had it before. It's really good!" He scoops another bite of ice cream into his mouth. "To be honest, it's the best I've ever had. Ever. And I thought that the ones at the restaurants downtown were the greatest!"

Jess's mother, Faith, is just as kind and generous as her young son. Even as an everyday, powerless human, she knows how to show care and affection for beings like me. It strikes me as strange. She knows of the things I have done in the past, and yet she ignores all of it to take care of me, anyway. I feel selfish thinking that we have some sort of connection, but I can't help it.

"I'd be happy to come," I tell Jess. "It'd be nice."

As if I am some sort of miracle, Jess, Akilah and Winsome gawk in surprise. I stare blankly back at them. I don't understand why they're so shocked. I'm able to function, can I not? Even with a part of me still broken.

Then they give me smiles, hiding their previous worries and concerns. "I'm glad that you're coming!" Jess says, nudging my arm gently with his elbow. I wince, his touch rubbing against a few of my injuries. "My mom will be happy to see you again."

"She will?"

"Definitely! You guys are like BFFs! She even said so herself."

Slowly, I feel the ghost of a smile cross my lips, and I look down. "Aw. How sweet. I'm flattered."

His mother and I have been close for many months, and contact with his father has also increased the familial bond. It has a similar feeling with Rudy and me, except instead of me watching over Faith, it's like Faith is watching over me.

"I'll check with my parents," Akilah says, already pulling out her phone as she scoops some pistachio ice cream into her mouth. "I don't know what they're doing tonight."

"I'll be coming as well, seńor!" Winsome tugs lightly on Jess' sleeve, grinning and showing off his bright white teeth. "Nothing will stop me from getting more food~"

And nothing will stop me from getting more comfort.