nic was up in his room, listening to music through his headphones in order to ignore the sound of his little siblings playing downstairs

david sheff, his dad, had hired a new babysitter for the two, and it was audible that they were comfortable around you

karen and david were attending on of nic's rehab meetings, to discuss the near future and what would be good for the boy

he hated that he couldn't just come a long and hear what the people had to say about him, it made him anxious. what if they talked bad about him?

chewing on his lower lip, hard enough to leave dark pink bruises, he sketched out what he was feeling; something one kf those psychiatrists had told him to do; and even though it felt childish, it did help a bit

after having painted the monster of bad feelings inside his mind onto the sheet of paper and having put it away from his bed, he'd decided to distance himself a little from the claustrophobic silence of his room

descending down the stairs, his dark hair astray over his pale forehead, his eyes looking drowsy and dead, he scanned over the living room as if it was his first time seeing it

his gaze stopped at the babysitter; it wasn't some middle-aged nanny, it was a teenager around his age, and a pretty one at that, too

jasper amd daisy were playing twister next to the kitchen table, laughing and giggling like young kids did, while nic tried to get used to all these many, numbing senses;

the sight of a pretty person in the kitchen cooking for his siblings, the loud laughter of the kids, the strong smell of tomato sauce and pepper, the suddenly off-putting rough texture of the wall he was leaning against, the thin film of sweat on his neck

"hey", he mumbled, his voice raspy as he stopped on the last step of the stairs, raising his gaze up to yours

his voice was quiet and he sounded like he'd spent a rough and sleepless night either talking very loudly or crying, although he felt like it was obvious that it was the latter;

"what're you cooking?"