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Girl understands. Sun Hair wants her to break His toy.
But he will hurt her.
He’s not here. He’s Gone. Is that what Sun Hair is trying to show her?
“Comeonalis. No hurt.”
She looks at Sun Hair. The woman’s watery green eyes make her feel all shaky inside.
Slowly, her hand trembling, she reaches out to touch It.
—it will burn you—
But It doesn’t. It feels like nothing in her hand, just bits of string and twig. There is no blood on It, no trace of his big, angry hands.
She rips it in half, and at the motion, she feels something new grow inside her, a kind of rumble that starts deep in her belly and catches in her throat. It feels so good to break His toy, to ruin it, to reach into the box and grab another one.
She rips them all, then destroys the box. As she breaks and snaps, she thinks of Him, of all the ways He hurt her, and all the times she wanted to scream.
When the box is empty, she looks up, gulping air as if she doesn’t know how to breathe.
Sun Hair takes Girl in her arms and holds her tightly.
Girl doesn’t know what is happening. Her body is shaking.
“It’sokayokayokay. Nohurt. Nohurt.”
Girl feels herself relaxing. A warm feeling blossoms in her chest and spreads out, down her arms and into her fingers.
“You’resafenow.”
She hears that, feels it.
Safe.
JULIA PAUSED IN HER NOTE-TAKING TO READ WHAT SHE HAD WRITTEN.
She stands behind the plants for much of the day, staring alternately at me or out the window. Sunshine particularly engages her attention, as do bright plastic objects and dishes. Many things seem to frighten her—loud noises, thunder, the color gray, bright and shiny metal objects, dreamcatchers, and knives. The dogs’ barking always sends her running to the door. It is the only time she even approaches that side of the room. Often she howls in response.
Right now, she is sitting at my feet, looking up at me. This is her new favorite spot. Since ruining the dreamcatchers, she has broken through the solitary border of the previous days. She is never more than a few inches away from me. Often, she paws at my feet and legs. When tired, she curls up on the floor beside me, resting her cheek on my foot.
Julia looked down at the girl. “What are you thinking, Alice?”
As always, there was no response. Alice stared up at her intently; it was as if she were trying to understand.
So intent was she that it took her a moment to realize that someone was knocking on the door. “Come in,” she said distractedly.
The door opened just a crack and Ellie slipped into the room. Behind her, the golden retrievers were going crazy; barking, scratching, whining. She shut the door firmly. At Ellie’s entrance, Alice ran to her hiding place.
“You’ve got to teach those dogs some manners,” Julia said without looking up. She made a notation on Alice’s chart. Responds to dogs by howling quietly. Today she moved toward the door.
“Jules?”
She heard something in her sister’s voice and looked up. “What?”
“Some people are here to see you. Doctors from the state care facility, a researcher from the U.W., and a woman from DSHS.”
She should have expected it. The media had hinted that Alice was “wild.” Just the suggestion of it would tempt other doctors, researchers. In the old days, no one would have dared to encroach on her patient. These were not those days. Now, she would look weak; predators would begin to circle her. She got slowly to her feet and methodically put her notes and charts and pens away.
