I’m awake, but still so tired, I don’t want to move. Mireille has me firmly wrapped in her arms. I realize my face is stuck to her shoulder in a puddle of drool.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper, just in case she’s still sleeping, but I feel that she’s awake.
“It’s okay.” She kisses the top of my head. I sigh. A few days ago, this moment would be one of perfect peace. But I still have that fear, than anxiety, gnawing at me.
“You had more dreams last night.”
“Just one. Over and over.” I bury my head further under her neck, as if I can hide from it.
“There was a room…something very bad happened there.” Even now, in the daylight, I feel the skin on the back of my neck crawl at the thought.
“To you?” she pulls me in to her tighter.
“Maybe…” I can’t tell her the flashes of what I've experienced- the screaming, the horrible beating. Throughout the night, sometimes I felt like I was watching it; other times it seemed to happen to me. The feeling I get, the helpless feeling, makes me shiver.
“Forgetting your past…may not have been such a bad thing after all.” She frees her hand to stroke my hair. “I don’t like seeing what remembering it does to you.”
“Everything I remember…hurts.” I whisper as I feel her hand in my hair, trying to unclump it.
“Let’s take a nice long bath together, we’ll both feel better.” she kisses my forehead.
Suddenly the toilet flushes from the other room, and her head jerks up.
“Soldats. I can’t believe I let them stay.” she growls.
“They’re protecting us.”
“Soldats took my family. All they want to protect, is their own interest.” She moves to get up. “I’m going to go have a talk with them about that.” She gets up and goes over to the dresser.
I sigh, knowing it is useless to argue with her.

I look at her, bent over the well-worn dresser, and remember what Uncle said last night. According to him, Mireille can have almost anything she wants. Yet here she is, in this small apartment, with this old furniture and narrow bed. It’s almost as if she’s exiled herself from something.
Something….I narrow my eyes.
“Why do you do it?” I ask. “When you could have it all, why do this?”
She stops for a moment. I see her hands tighten on the edge of the dresser.
“If they can’t enjoy it…why should I have that right?” she pushes the drawer shut with her hip. “You can’t understand…” she says softly. "I can't really explain it."
I get up and wobble my way over to her and hold her. I feel her chin lay on top of my head, and her chest pushes into mine as she gives a deep sigh..
“When you’re lonely…it doesn’t matter what you have. The size of a lonely world…never changes, Kirika.”
We stand in silence, and I listen to our breathing together. I remember the pain I felt at school, how horrible I felt, before Mireille.
“But we’re not lonely any more, are we?” I move my head to look up, and we stare at one another.
“No... and our world is changing. It’s just how it’s changing that worries me.” She takes her shirt and wipes my lip. “I want to have control of it- and right now I don’t. “ She releases me and steps back. “Neither do you.” she looks at me to make her point.
She turns back to the dresser, opens the top drawer, and pulls out her gun.
“But if anyone thinks we’re about to be a pawn in their game.” She cocks the gun in her hand. “They’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

Page 10