Broken Crayons Still Colour

Rain clashes against the window as lightning flashes through the room. I look into the bathroom mirror and I’m greeted with the reflection of a broken, exhausted girl. I slowly lift up my t-shirt, revealing my bare stomach, scar included. My fingers carefully trace the outline of my scar located on my left hip. A triangle surrounding the number ‘8’. This will always be imprinted in my skin. This will never disappear. It will be a part of me for the rest of my life. The past is the past, and that’s unchangeable. The only thing you can do is try to forget and move on. The earth doesn’t stop spinning. The clock doesn’t stop ticking. The world is not going to pause just because something happens to you.

The past is the past, and that’s unchangeable, but I will have to carry this with me all through my future.

“Ayana! Can you come down, please?” I hear Grace scream from downstairs. I let out a deep sigh before putting my shirt back down. I throw my sweater on, exit the bathroom and descend down the stairs. I enter the living room and see Grace sitting down on one of the big beige couches.

“Ayana, can you sit down for a minute? I would like to talk to you,” she says as she pats the spot next to her. I slowly saunter over to the couch and sit myself down, making sure to leave some space between us. I look down at my hands lying in my lap. My fingers are making a crisscross motion. It’s an old habit. It always happens when I get nervous or anxious.

“Ayana,” I hear Grace’s voice say, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I answer shortly, not even bothering to look up.

“Are you sure about that? Because you certainly don’t look fine.”

“Well, I am.”

“Ayana, it has been four months since I found you in that closet. It has been four months since I pulled you out of that house. It has been four months since you moved in here and you still haven’t spoken a word about what happened. You’ve been through so incredibly much, it wouldn’t hurt to try and talk about it.”

“I… I don’t want to,” I say, my words not louder than a whisper.

“And that’s why I’m worried. You don’t talk about anything. Not about what happened to you, not about how you’re feeling. I haven’t seen you cry once. Even when we visited your mother’s grave, you didn’t shed a tear. You were totally emotionless. That’s called ‘suffering in silence’ and that is not a good coping mechanism, Ayana.”

“What do you want from me, Grace?” I snap as I stand up in frustration.

“I want you to talk to me!” she screams. She stands up as well and pulls at my arm to make me face her.

“I can’t. Father said that we can’t trust anyone on the outside.”

“Ayana, you didn’t grow up with a father. It was just you and your mum. You’ve never known your father. Don’t you remember?”

“I do, but I’m not talking about my biological father.”

“Of course not. You’re talking about the man who kidnapped you,” I hear Grace snap at me. Who the hell does she think she is? Accusing people just like that, without even knowing them. Father didn’t kidnap me. He saved me.

“I’m sorry,” Grace apologizes, her voice soft and sincere. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just want you to talk to me and help me understand what your Father’s vision was, or is. You don’t have to trust me. I just want to understand,” she says. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I close my eyes, trying to decide what I should do. Father always said that we can’t trust anyone. But by explaining what Father thought us, I’m not trusting anyone, right? I’m just going to be talking, not trusting.

I let out a sigh before sitting back down on the couch. I pat the spot next to me, telling Grace it’s okay to sit down. I’m ready to talk.

“I was twelve years old. I was walking home from school when a sweet woman approached me. She had gorgeous long hair and she was wearing a light-purple skirt with a white blouse on top. She said she was a friend of my mum and that she wanted to talk to me,” I start my story.

“She told me that I was a special child and that I needed to come with her. She told me she talked to my mum and she was fine with it. So, I followed her over to a car and climbed into the backseat with her. She wasn’t driving the car. A man was. I remember being confused and a bit excited. I never felt scared.” I take in a deep breath, thinking about whether I should continue or not.

“You okay?” Grace asks, bringing my attention back to reality.

“Yes. Uhm… We arrived at a big house. It was surrounded by a metal wired fence. In the beginning, I thought it was kind of strange, but I soon learned it was necessary to protect us. It needed to protect us from the outside world and from all the people that would come looking for us.”

“Who is ‘us’? I hear Grace ask.

“What?”

“Who’s ‘us’?” she repeats. “You said the fence was necessary to protect ‘us’.”

I look away, down at my trembling hands. It feels wrong, talking about all of this with a total stranger, someone from the outside. But deep down inside, I know I need this. I need to talk about it. I know I need to tell her.

“My brothers and sisters. There are eight of us. Well, at least, there were eight of us. And I was the last one. The man who was driving the car told us we were The Chosen 8. He told us that the world was going to end soon, and only we, The Chosen 8, could save it. He knew everything. He was like God on earth. We all called him Father because from then on, he was the most important person in our lives.”

“Were the other kids younger or older than you?” Grace asks.

“We were all the same age. We were all twelve. Four boys and four girls. Every single one of us got assigned our own responsibility. Rose was responsible for the garden and the flowers. Amora needed to keep the house clean and neat. Blakely and Easton were responsible for cooking, preparing breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks. Matt’s job was to harvest the fruits, vegetables, herbs and spices. Mason and Jordan had to train every day. They learned to fight and needed to get strong and lean so, they could protect all of us. And Father, he devoted his time to building a bunker where we would take shelter when the end was coming.”

“And you? What was your responsibility?”

“I was in charge of Father’s lessons, Father’s teachings. My task was to write everything he said down. I had to make all the books, for myself and my siblings. I got locked into a room all day and all night, and all I got to do was write.”

“You were never allowed to leave your room?”

“Only when the sun was setting. Amora would come upstairs and summon me, and then we would all gather outside for Father’s daily lesson. Every day, he said the same things, but he always added something new. He always told us how proud he was.” I’m shocked at what I’m feeling inside right now. I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel like I’m betraying Father. But now that I’m saying it all out loud, I can’t help but notice it actually sounds quite horrific.

“Didn’t you ever miss your parents?” Grace asks softly. I look up and meet her eyes. They’re watery and full of sadness.

“We weren’t allowed to. This was our destiny. We were the savers of the world. We were making a small sacrifice to save everyone else. I remember the day Father told us that the end was near, that we had to be ready. We were moving into the bunker in a few days. That’s when it all hit us. We were not saving the world. We were just saving the planet, but not the people. Then, Father finally trusted us with the whole truth. The world would catch fire, destroying everything and everyone in it. Only we would survive, The Chose 8 and Father. Once the fire would die down, we were destined to procreate and build a new and better world.”

“That’s one hell of a responsibility.”

“Yeah… I often doubted myself, thinking that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t worthy. I often thought that I wasn’t capable of what Father wanted me to do, that I wasn’t capable of saving the world and creating a whole new one. But Father never doubted me. He always said I was his favourite,” I say, a small smile appearing on my face as I think back at the bond Father and I had.

“He said that if anyone could do it, it would be me.” My smile quickly disappears as I replay what happened after that in my head.

“The day of the move, I woke up in my room, it was still dark outside. Sirens were howling and the house was filled with red and blue flashing lights. I didn’t know what was happening and for the first time in years, I felt afraid. Police officers rushed into the house and started taking my siblings away. I saw Father being handcuffed and being dragged over to a police vehicle. I panicked and hid in the closet. The next thing I knew, you were standing in front of me,” I tell her before averting my eyes again.

“I was angry. First, with you and with the people who took my brothers and sisters away. But then, my anger shifted,” I say carefully. I can’t believe what I’m about to say right now.

“When you took me in, I was afraid. Father taught us that we should never trust anyone on the outside. Nobody understood. No matter what you guys were going to do or where I would end up, the world was still going to catch fire. The world was still going to end. But then, I didn’t. I was confused, and I was mad. Father lied. He lied about everything,” I blurt out as I feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Then you told me about my mum, my real mum. That she shot herself because she couldn’t go on living without her daughter. I felt betrayed. Father told me that my mum knew about everything and that she agreed to let me go, to let me fulfil my destiny. Father lied again.” Tears start rolling down my cheeks. “I’m so embarrassed,” I cry out, more and more tears escaping my eyes. I feel a hand softly being placed on the small of my back.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid. I can’t believe I fell for it. It was all just a scam, wasn’t it?” I look over at Grace and she sadly nods her head.

“My mum is gone because of me, because I believed a stranger, because I believed every single word Father said.”

“It’s not your fault. Nothing about this is your fault, Ayana. Those people, they brainwashed and manipulated all of you. You were just kids. None of this is your fault,” Grace tells me as she gently puts her arm around my shoulder.

“I feel like I don’t know who I am.”

“That’s more than understandable. You’re seventeen now, which means you lived locked up in that house for five years. It’s normal to feel confused. But you’re strong, Ayana. I’m sure you’ll get through this.”

“How?!” I scream. “How am I supposed to be okay in a world I know nothing about?” I can see Grace doesn’t know what to say, and I get that. I wouldn’t know what to say to me either.

I slightly turn my body to the left so I can face Grace.

“I am so sorry about the way I treated you for the past few months,” I tell her honestly.

“You don’t have to apologize, Ayana. I understand. I can’t even imagine how I would deal with everything you’ve been through. I’m just glad that you’re safe now.”

“I know I am. I just didn’t want to believe that it was all a lie, a scam. I wasn’t ready to let go of the only thing I knew.”

“And, are you ready now?” Grace asks me and I shrug my shoulders. “You’ll know when you’re ready. But, I want you to know that I’m really happy that you found the courage to tell me everything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t open up earlier, but like I said, I wasn’t ready yet.”

“I understand,” is all Grace says before I stand up and start walking towards the door.

But before I reach it, I stop dead in my tracks. I turn myself around and search for Grace’s brown eyes.

“Thank you, for saving me. I wish I was able to show you that I really am thankful for everything you have done for me. I just… I just…” I stutter as I feel tears threatening to spill again. I see grace standing up and walking over to me. “I just, I feel broken. I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. I feel like this world isn’t my place to be. I don’t know anything about my surroundings. It’s like I don’t know how to exist anymore,” I say, a single tear escaping my left eye. Grace gently wipes it away with her thumb before taking both of my hands in hers.

“I’m not going to tell you that it will be easy, because it won’t. It will be difficult and it’s going to take some time. But eventually, you will find your place in this world, Ayana. I’m sure of that because broken crayons still colour.” A genuine smile spreads across my face and I can hear Grace letting out a sigh of relief.

“Your smile is beautiful. You should try to use it a little more,” she tells me and my smile only grows bigger. “I’m always going to be with you, Ayana. You know that, right?”

“I do. Thank you,” I say before I feel my body being embraced by two strong arms. I lean into the comfort of Grace’s hug as I think about what she said.

I will be fine. I will be okay. No matter what happens, I will always get through it. I am going to find my place in this world again. And you know why? Because broken crayons still colour.