Page 57 of Run Omega Run
The observation hit me like a physical blow. The lingering scent of violence, of strangers who'd entered our space with hostile intent, had contaminated the air we breathed.
"We had some visitors last night," I said carefully, ladling oatmeal into her bowl while keeping my voice light and unconcerned. "Sometimes when new people visit, they leave their scents behind for a while."
“The mean men?” she asked.
I nodded, feigning a smile. She seemed to accept this explanation, but her grip on the rabbit tightened as she reached for her spoon.
Dylan appeared next, moving slowly and still showing signs of the cold Cole had been treating. His face was pale, but his breathing seemed easier than it had been in days.
"How's everyone feeling this morning?" I asked, distributing bowls with movements that felt too careful, too controlled. “Dylan, your cough sounds better.”
The forced cheerfulness in my voice rang hollow to my own ears, but the children responded with the resilience that had seen them through losses and upheavals most adults couldn't imagine. Dylan managed a small smile as he reported his chest felt less tight.
Outside, another sharp crack of the hammer against wood made me jolt enough to slosh oatmeal over the rim of the serving pot. The hot liquid splattered across my hand, and I bit back a curse while reaching for a dish towel, hoping none of the children had noticed my reaction.
But they had. I could see it in the way their conversations faltered, in the worried glances they exchanged when they thought I wasn't looking. Susie, who'd arrived a moment ago, kept watching my face with careful attention.
"Are you okay, Miss Heather?" she asked quietly, her voice carrying the responsibility of responsibility that came from being the eldest, the one who helped care for the smaller ones when the adults seemed fragile.
"Of course, honey," I replied, forcing another bright smile while my hand throbbed with minor burns. "Just clumsy this morning. Haven't had enough coffee yet to make my fingers work properly."
The lie came easily, but it tasted bitter on my tongue. These children had survived enough adult deceptions to recognizewhen they were being managed rather than trusted with truth. But what was the alternative? How could I explain that men had broken into our home and threatened to tear our family apart? How could I burden them with fear that would steal their sleep and poison their sense of safety?
Denson slipped in during this exchange, his movements careful and measured as always. He took his seat without comment, but I caught the way his eyes lingered on my face, reading the tension I was trying so hard to conceal. Of all the children, he was the most perceptive, the one most likely to piece together adult troubles from scattered clues and worried silences.
"The door sounds like it's getting fixed real good," he observed. "Lots of hammering going on out there."
"Bennett and Dante know what they're doing," I agreed, grateful for the safe topic. "They'll have everything back to normal in no time."
But even as I said the words, I wondered if anything would ever feel normal again.
The children's conversation continued around me, their voices mixing with the background reconstruction. But underneath their chatter, I caught the whispered exchanges that confirmed my worst fears... they knew something was wrong, and my attempts to shield them were failing.
"Did you see those men last night?" Dylan murmured to Tomas, his words barely audible above the scraping of spoons against bowls.
"Scary voices," Tomas whispered back, his grip tightening on his blanket corner.
My heart clenched with the realization that their innocence had been damaged by exposure to adult problems they shouldn't have had to face. But before I could figure out how to address their fears without making them worse, another thunderouscrack of a hammer against stubborn wood made me flinch so violently that I knocked my coffee mug off the counter.
The ceramic shattered with a sound like gunshots, sending fragments across the floor and coffee streaming over the edge. I stared at the mess I'd created, my hands shaking harder than ever, and realized that maintaining this façade was going to require strength I wasn't sure I possessed this morning.
Chapter 24
Heather
