“I could only imagine what you’re feeling, right now,” the woman said. She invited herself into the chair across from Savannah, hoping to distract her from her crayons. Savannah’s silence was anything but calm. Her hands kept to the paper, running lines wildly into each other. They formed shapes that quickly took the likeness of something from a horror movie. Grotesque as it was, it certainly wasn’t the most gruesome thing Millie's clients had conjured up. The depths of their dark imaginations take root in much darker realities.
“Could you tell me what your drawing's about?” Millie asked, calmly. She waited patiently for an answer but Savannah only drew faster. The red crayon zigzagged down the page, leaving sharp points protruding out of the tall beast’s crooked spine.
“Is he always red?” Millie smiled with playful intrigue.
Savannah’s hand stopped moving. Her eyes shot up at Millie from under a furrowed brow. Millie felt her heart hesitate. It sent a chill down her spine and suddenly, Millie felt unsure about something. Never the kind of woman to run from a fight, she swallowed her uncertainty and met Savannah’s cold stare.
“Only when he's done eating,” Savannah said. The pitch of her voice softly casted itself into an air of innocence that forced cotton balls into Millie’s throat. She made no movement to suggest her unease. Though, it was then that she became suddenly aware that she wasn’t sure how to handle this case. The air in the conference room chilled as Millie watched Savannah finish one sketch and move onto the next blank sheet. Quickly, a crooked red house formed. She surrounded it with red crooked, barren trees. When the dog house appeared, Millie was reminded of a scene likely still fresh for Savannah.
Three years ago, police discovered the bloodiest scene in Franklin County. Her father had butchered her mother and aunt before taking a 45 magnum to his skull. Savannah was found, unscathed, in the dog house. No dog was ever found. Savannah never spoke of it. Since Savannah’s file came across Millie's desk, it had gone from a manila folder to having it’s own drawer. No matter how far trouble followed her, Millie wouldn’t give up on her. 23 years as a case worker for fostered youth and she’s never walked away. Some have been to jail, where she’s maintained scheduled visits. Some have run away. Some she found. For some, she keeps a picture in an album on her living room table. She reviews it from time to time just so she can remember their names, in case, by the grace of God, they ever came back. For Savannah, Millie found herself scratching her head.
Savannah had been to eight different homes, each ending in catastrophe. The first couple seemed to be a fitting match for Savannah and were fostering two other girls her age. Millie was grateful none of the girls were in the car when they collided with that oil truck on their way home.
Then, there were the newly weds. For medical reasons, they couldn’t have children and were thrilled to be finally able host their first foster child. When one of the wives fell down a flight of stairs, she was rendered paralyzed from the neck down. For the other wife, this meant 24/7 care for her beloved.
The next house’s father had a heart attack, one couple was involved in a plane crash, and one house experienced a home invasion. Millie was devastated when she heard the latest news, that morning. The house where Savannah had been living burnt to the ground. She was at school when it happened, marking her, once again, as a lone survivor. Savannah had experienced more tragedy by 11 years old then most people experience in their entire lives.
A small knock interrupted the growing tension.
“Amelia, can I speak to you for a moment?” Collin's head asked through the crack in the door.
Millie met him in the observation area. Through the two-way mirror, they could watch Savannah while conversing privately.
“I haven’t been able to find placement for her. We might have to consider a facility for the night,” Collin explained, pointing at the clock. It read 4:36. Before she could form a thought, movement behind the glass diverted her attention. Savannah continued to color frantically at the table.
“It might be good for her,” Collin said. “She’s been through a lot, Amelia. Some professional help might what she needs.”
“I am a professional,” Millie said. Her words left behind a bitter aftertaste and she quickly regretted them. She intended on catching eye contact, however, something stirred behind the glass. Upon second glance, there Savannah remained as she was.
“I didn’t-" Collin started.
“I know. Please, excuse me. I'm also from Brooklyn.” Millie shot him a smile, trying to lighten the mood she sparked. Having been a part of the system herself, there was a soft spot Millie could never wash away. She lost her dad to the gangs and her mom to drugs. By 13, she knew she was nothing more than another stereotype. If it wasn’t for the direction of her case worker, she would have been right.
Collin returned the smile and raised her a chuckle.
“Love it,” he said. “But seriously.” He paused and let his shoulders melt with his exhale.
“What are we going to do?”
She didn’t have an answer. She tried to think on it but something kept stealing her attention. Something was darting round her peripherals.
“Amelia?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. She grabbed a bottle of water and a couple of styrofoam cups.
“Would you order a pizza? We'll feed her some dinner and start the arrangements.”
He nodded and left her to return to Savannah. She set the cups down and poured some water.
“You must be hungry. We're going to get you some dinner.”
Savannah didn’t acknowledge Millie spoke at all. She dropped the last piece of paper in her pile and began pressing jagged lines of red wax onto the table top.
“Savannah, please.” Millie reached out and cupped Savannah’s hands.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital, Miss Millie,” Savannah said.
Millie froze. Slowly, she lowered her hands and just stared at the girl. Her soft brown locks strung around her face. The static in the air was enough to keep it looking un-brushed. Her round face hosted large green eyes, staring directly into Millie’s. The childishness she emitted in that moment was almost cartoonish. Millie shifted in her seat and adjusted her suit jacket.
“Um.”
Savannah stared coldly, watching Millie search for what to say.
“Um.” Her leg began to bounce. She sat back in her chair and let it. Each second, she became increasingly more aware of Savannah’s piercing eyes searching for hers. Millie shifted herself, again, trying to avoid it. From behind her came a muffled growl. She jumped back and spun her head around. The book shelf was the only other thing in the room. Still, she searched thoroughly, as if expecting more. Shaking her head, she decided she was just overwhelmed.
Though, unsatisfied by this conclusion, she returned her gaze to Savannah.
Savannah hadn’t moved. Her bulging wide eyes appeared empty. Millie almost jumped again. She let out a chuckle, in spite of herself. Now, she knew she was just being silly and working herself up. Millie decided to reach out on a limb and play the only card she could think of.
“How about you come stay with me?” She knew the department would frown on the idea but she felt the circumstances required an unorthodox approach.
Savannah looked behind Millie’s shoulder. Millie followed her eyes to the same empty corner she heard whatever it was she heard.
“I don’t want to do that,” Savannah said. She returned to scribbling on the table. Her arm seemed uncontrollable as it swung forcefully around. Sharp lines of red marred the finished wood but Millie didn’t stop her this time.
“Why not? It would be better than the hospital.”
“Not a good idea.” Her fingers had paled from the pressure of her grip. It didn’t seem to phase her as she squeezed tighter and scribbled faster.
“I just want to know for what reason,” Millie pressed.
“Because I like you,” Savannah said. She put her crayon down and slouched back in her chair.
“Then, its settled. Collin's bringing pizza. We’ll eat while I finish up some paperwork and you can stay with me until we find you a permanent home.” Millie was content with this decision. Savannah lowered her head. The overhead light flickered. Millie scanned the room. They flickered again.
“Ok,” she sighed.
Millie smiled, uneasily, and reached for her water. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the shift in the curtain. She blamed it on air from the ventilation and started drinking. As the cold liquid satisfied her dry throat, she felt a tightness form in her lungs. Suddenly, she was out of breath. She tried to inhale but her chest wouldn’t open. She beat her fist to her chest. Nothing loosened. The more she fought it, the tighter it became. It felt as if her lungs were seizing, as if she were drowning.
Seconds began to feel like hours as her body pleaded for air. Confusion settled in on top of the panic. Her fingers clamped themselves to the table, like they could extract oxygen from the wood. Savannah refused to look. She sulked in her chair, as if she hadn’t noticed anything at all out of the ordinary.
Millie fell to the floor and crawled towards the door. Her legs were weak. Her hands tingled with ice cold pins. She felt dizzier with every movement.
Reaching for the door handle, Millie’s body slumped over. Her lips had greyed and her face void of any signs of life. Savannah remained still as the last of electricity twitched through her body. It took longer than she expected but finally, she was gone. The air hung silent and still, except the shadow that had been bidding its time.
“What?” Savannah said. She turned her face upward.
“But I liked her.”
“I can’t.”
“Because you’re just going to kill everybody.”
A few moments later, Savannah reached into Millie’s pocket to find her wallet. She pocketed the cash and put it back.
“I did!” She snapped. Her tolerance was uncoiling.
There wasn’t anywhere to go. She didn’t know how she would get there. All she did know was that Death would follow her. Maybe one day, she would learn why.
Bio:
Winter Summer is the self-published author of Molly's Misguided Adventures, found on Amazon. She runs a small farm with her family in Western Maine where she spends her time as a teacher and an artist.
Comments