Molly Jordan
Flower Child
"Grown-ups are sadistic bastards and we can't trust them. We can only trust each other."
"I don't like it when you use that word."
"Fine. Grown-ups are sadistic meanies and we can't trust them."
"I know. I protect you and you protect me."
"That's right. We're all we have, Charity."
An all too familiar conversation, though this time, it was communicated through hand gestures instead of words. After spending time in a home where silence was law, the two had taught themselves sign language with the use of books and "hypothetical" questions to various teachers. Mercy let out a long breath, letting her hands fall once she was sure her sister had registered the message and sliding her band-aid covered fingers easily into hers. Charity had always been the optimistic one, and while her never-ending faith in the goodness of people could be exasperating to someone who had already accepted that the human race was comprised of malicious monsters, Mercy supposed she couldn't complain about it. She'd always tried to give Charity a chance to be innocent, to be a child, and because Mercy had shielded her, Charity hadn't seen the full extent of the world's cruelty like Mercy had, so she still clung to the possibility that there were kind people to be found, somewhere out there. While Mercy didn't want to destroy her sister's idealistic view on the world and humanity, she also didn't want to set Charity up for disappointment, so whenever she began to naïvely believe the kind things that grown-ups said to her, Mercy had no choice to remind her that every sweet thing they said was a lie, a sugar coated cover for poison words that would kill them from the inside out.
Mercy's gaze flickered briefly to the rear view mirror, to make sure that Ms. Pendleton, the agent that had been working with them since they were taken from their birth parents all those years ago, hadn't been privy to their private discussion, before looking back to Charity. She was staring out the window, just as Mercy knew she would be. Charity was the eyes and Mercy was the ears whenever they arrived at a new house. Charity took note of everything around them, while Mercy mentally recorded everything said about them. Charity would find hiding spaces, Mercy would try and figure out what brand of asshole they'd have for parents this time, because the type of parent would affect how Mercy had to behave. Hide, sneak around and protect Charity if they were drunkards; make herself loud, take the blame and protect Charity if they were beaters; figure out where to find all the necessities and protect Charity if they neglecters. Because although she agreed that they'd protect each other to appease Charity, that was rarely the case. Mercy was the protector, and it was by choice. Charity deserved so much better than the circumstances they'd been forced to live in--she deserved better than anyone could provide for her--and Mercy did everything she could to make sure Charity was relatively safe and happy. Of course, there were times she'd fail, times where she couldn't divert the attention to herself or Charity refused to let her take the blame or she just wasn't there, and it sickened Mercy just to think about those instances. She pushed away the memories, heart aching, and squeezed Charity's fingers, catching her attention. The girl turned away from the window, green eyes that mirrored Mercy's own meeting her gaze (identical twins, the two possessed the same dark brown hair, fair skin, freckled cheeks, and green eyes--they both even had the same golden speckles in their irises), and Mercy's heart ached at the fear in her sister's eyes. Mercy opened her mouth to speak, to try and comfort her, but the silver car jerked to a stop before she had the chance.
"We're here, girls," Ms. Pendleton said warmly, shooting them a glance in the rear view mirror before climbing out of the car and moving to open their door for them. After a brief moment of hesitance, Mercy unbuckled herself and slid out of the car. Sneakers so worn out that they were practically falling off hit the gravelly dirt, and Mercy grimaced. The rough terrain would only result in more wear and tear on her already flimsy shoes, but she'd never dream of taking Charity's, even though they were in much better condition, probably because Charity took every possible opportunity not to wear them. Mercy's gaze rapidly darted around the landscape before settling on the couple standing on the front porch of the ranch house laid before them (something new, considering they were used to dull house in the suburbs or shitty apartments), surrounded by three teenagers. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, and she silently evaluated them as Charity climbed out of the car beside her, gripping her hand so tight that her knuckles were turning white. "Come on, you two, let's get you introduced," Ms. Pendleton urged, tone bright and hopeful, before ushering the two dirty children up to the small porch, "Good to see you again, Mrs. Robins, Mrs. Piane." She shook each of their hands in turn, a wide smile on her lips, before gently nudging the wary twins forward. "Mercy, Charity, this is Eva and Kennedy," she told them softly, "They're going to be taking care of you. Care to say hello?" There was a tense moment of silence, and then Mercy robotically stuck out a hand for Eva to shake.
"It's nice to meet you," she said stiffly, letting her hand drop to her side once she had shaken both of her new mother's hands, and once again squeezing Charity's fingers, silently urging her to follow her example. The girl obeyed, holding out a delicate and trembling hand to Kennedy and then Eva before quickly stuffing it in the pocket of her ragged grey hoodie. Ms. Pendleton stuck around long enough to carry their bags in for them--each only had a single duffel bag to their name--but considering people who worked with the Parsons facility had visited sometime prior in the week to make sure the house had decent conditions and enough room and Ms. Pendleton herself had already spoken extensively with Eva and Kennedy, there was little reason for her to hang around much longer, and besides, she wanted the twins to have a chance to settle in without her breathing down their necks.
"You know you can call me if you need anything, right?" Ms. Pendleton reminded the two as she pulled her jacket on, and Charity managed a feeble smile for the kind-hearted woman's sake.
"We know, Ms. Pendleton."
"Great. Well, I'll be visiting in about a month to make sure everything is going alright, so I'll see you then," the agent offered as a goodbye, before slipping back out the door, getting into her car and vanishing down the driveway. Once the silver Volkswagen had vanished around the bend, the twins turned back to their new guardians, remaining silent. Usually, by this time, they'd done a thorough analysis and figured out the best course of action. For Mercy, reading grown-ups and figuring out their intentions was like a sixth sense, but for whatever reason, this couple was one that she couldn't decipher.
"I don't like it when you use that word."
"Fine. Grown-ups are sadistic meanies and we can't trust them."
"I know. I protect you and you protect me."
"That's right. We're all we have, Charity."
An all too familiar conversation, though this time, it was communicated through hand gestures instead of words. After spending time in a home where silence was law, the two had taught themselves sign language with the use of books and "hypothetical" questions to various teachers. Mercy let out a long breath, letting her hands fall once she was sure her sister had registered the message and sliding her band-aid covered fingers easily into hers. Charity had always been the optimistic one, and while her never-ending faith in the goodness of people could be exasperating to someone who had already accepted that the human race was comprised of malicious monsters, Mercy supposed she couldn't complain about it. She'd always tried to give Charity a chance to be innocent, to be a child, and because Mercy had shielded her, Charity hadn't seen the full extent of the world's cruelty like Mercy had, so she still clung to the possibility that there were kind people to be found, somewhere out there. While Mercy didn't want to destroy her sister's idealistic view on the world and humanity, she also didn't want to set Charity up for disappointment, so whenever she began to naïvely believe the kind things that grown-ups said to her, Mercy had no choice to remind her that every sweet thing they said was a lie, a sugar coated cover for poison words that would kill them from the inside out.
Mercy's gaze flickered briefly to the rear view mirror, to make sure that Ms. Pendleton, the agent that had been working with them since they were taken from their birth parents all those years ago, hadn't been privy to their private discussion, before looking back to Charity. She was staring out the window, just as Mercy knew she would be. Charity was the eyes and Mercy was the ears whenever they arrived at a new house. Charity took note of everything around them, while Mercy mentally recorded everything said about them. Charity would find hiding spaces, Mercy would try and figure out what brand of asshole they'd have for parents this time, because the type of parent would affect how Mercy had to behave. Hide, sneak around and protect Charity if they were drunkards; make herself loud, take the blame and protect Charity if they were beaters; figure out where to find all the necessities and protect Charity if they neglecters. Because although she agreed that they'd protect each other to appease Charity, that was rarely the case. Mercy was the protector, and it was by choice. Charity deserved so much better than the circumstances they'd been forced to live in--she deserved better than anyone could provide for her--and Mercy did everything she could to make sure Charity was relatively safe and happy. Of course, there were times she'd fail, times where she couldn't divert the attention to herself or Charity refused to let her take the blame or she just wasn't there, and it sickened Mercy just to think about those instances. She pushed away the memories, heart aching, and squeezed Charity's fingers, catching her attention. The girl turned away from the window, green eyes that mirrored Mercy's own meeting her gaze (identical twins, the two possessed the same dark brown hair, fair skin, freckled cheeks, and green eyes--they both even had the same golden speckles in their irises), and Mercy's heart ached at the fear in her sister's eyes. Mercy opened her mouth to speak, to try and comfort her, but the silver car jerked to a stop before she had the chance.
"We're here, girls," Ms. Pendleton said warmly, shooting them a glance in the rear view mirror before climbing out of the car and moving to open their door for them. After a brief moment of hesitance, Mercy unbuckled herself and slid out of the car. Sneakers so worn out that they were practically falling off hit the gravelly dirt, and Mercy grimaced. The rough terrain would only result in more wear and tear on her already flimsy shoes, but she'd never dream of taking Charity's, even though they were in much better condition, probably because Charity took every possible opportunity not to wear them. Mercy's gaze rapidly darted around the landscape before settling on the couple standing on the front porch of the ranch house laid before them (something new, considering they were used to dull house in the suburbs or shitty apartments), surrounded by three teenagers. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, and she silently evaluated them as Charity climbed out of the car beside her, gripping her hand so tight that her knuckles were turning white. "Come on, you two, let's get you introduced," Ms. Pendleton urged, tone bright and hopeful, before ushering the two dirty children up to the small porch, "Good to see you again, Mrs. Robins, Mrs. Piane." She shook each of their hands in turn, a wide smile on her lips, before gently nudging the wary twins forward. "Mercy, Charity, this is Eva and Kennedy," she told them softly, "They're going to be taking care of you. Care to say hello?" There was a tense moment of silence, and then Mercy robotically stuck out a hand for Eva to shake.
"It's nice to meet you," she said stiffly, letting her hand drop to her side once she had shaken both of her new mother's hands, and once again squeezing Charity's fingers, silently urging her to follow her example. The girl obeyed, holding out a delicate and trembling hand to Kennedy and then Eva before quickly stuffing it in the pocket of her ragged grey hoodie. Ms. Pendleton stuck around long enough to carry their bags in for them--each only had a single duffel bag to their name--but considering people who worked with the Parsons facility had visited sometime prior in the week to make sure the house had decent conditions and enough room and Ms. Pendleton herself had already spoken extensively with Eva and Kennedy, there was little reason for her to hang around much longer, and besides, she wanted the twins to have a chance to settle in without her breathing down their necks.
"You know you can call me if you need anything, right?" Ms. Pendleton reminded the two as she pulled her jacket on, and Charity managed a feeble smile for the kind-hearted woman's sake.
"We know, Ms. Pendleton."
"Great. Well, I'll be visiting in about a month to make sure everything is going alright, so I'll see you then," the agent offered as a goodbye, before slipping back out the door, getting into her car and vanishing down the driveway. Once the silver Volkswagen had vanished around the bend, the twins turned back to their new guardians, remaining silent. Usually, by this time, they'd done a thorough analysis and figured out the best course of action. For Mercy, reading grown-ups and figuring out their intentions was like a sixth sense, but for whatever reason, this couple was one that she couldn't decipher.
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