taxonomites | [accidental visual | location: twelfth floor] trust our deepest secrets to the artificial lake

The sun's scrambled high into the sky like a sure-footed kid climbing a tree—it's the itch under his collar and the sweat on his palms. He raises the hoe and swings it down into dry earth, sending up a puff of dust. There's always one weed left. Sun's baleful glare on his back, he drives the blade in again. He hears himself grunt (it sounds more like a squeal, like he's gonna cry) as if from far away.

He must close his eyes because the next thing he knows his hands are empty—slick with sweat and streaked with dirt but empty. He wipes them on his pants and looks up.

His eyes go wide. His arms prickle with goosebumps; he hugs himself against the sudden cold. He takes a step back, then another—it's a white room with a bed and the covers are rumpled. Maybe he should see if they're warm but he takes another step back and stumbles over a bottle. A gasp snags on something before it can escape his throat. He freezes, goes rigid. Listens with all his might.

The tablet switches on to show a dark-haired boy in clothes—a grimy shirt, suspenders, brown pants—that are worn but not ratty stooping to carefully right a whisky bottle.

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Dick casts another wary glance around the room. Clean as a hound's tooth. Smoke and drink hang heavy in the air. Who'd lain in that bed? When would he come back?

Don't worry.

"I won't," he says, and turns his head to squinch his eyes shut against the tears that suddenly threaten.

It was strange that she had never seen him around before because Rose was sure that she would have noticed a child. She watches him as he looks around the room-it definitely wasn't a place for a young boy.

"Can you tell me your name?" She asks softly. "I'm Rose."

It's very hard to keep from crying when all you're able to think about is how you can't and how hot your cheeks are and how somebody's eyes are on you.

"Dick." Like that, the danger passes. Shudders through him and vanishes. He swabs at his eyes with the back of his hand and blinks. "Whitman. Nice to meet you," he tacks on in an unconvincing mumble.

"It's lovely to meet you, Dick Whitman." Rose replies softly. She can't even tell what floor of the sanctuary that he's in.

"Are you alone in the room, Dick?" She asks in a careful tone. Maybe she'd be able to work out a bit more but that depended on his answer.

He lifts his eyes from the tablet to confirm the room is empty. It doesn't seem empty, though, just waiting for his pa to wrench open the door and fill it with sullen energy. To grab the bottle off the floor and stand staring out the window, fingers twitching, eyes hard.

"Do I count the bed?"

"Yes," she replies. Rose can't see anyone from where she is looking but it didn't mean that nobody was there. She's still quite concerned for him. But she doesn't want to make him more anxious than he probably already is.

"Do you need any help at all?"

"No, ma'am, I'm not alone then," he says dutifully.

Her next question meets with a look of bewilderment. Does he need help? How is he supposed to know? He's not hurt, only thirsty and a little sore. Is this a trick, a test?

"I...guess not." He tries to sound resolute. His grip on the tablet tightens.

"Okay, that's fine." He's very polite, Rose notices and she knows that was how he seemed to have been brought up. But she can sense that he's still afraid.

She smiles at him gently. "You know, it's alright to ask for help if you need it, you know. Don't worry. I mean no harm towards you."

"Yes ma'am."

He lets out a sigh--it's almost noiseless, and yet his shoulders rise and then slump as if beneath some heavy weight. He hesitates. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Just try to relax, take a few deep breaths for me, okay?"

Because having a panicked child is never a good thing. "There are good people here. You don't have to be afraid."

"Yes ma'am," Dick repeats, feeling stupid but unable to think of anything else to say. He knows what 'good people' means--too good for him.

He gulps in two noisy breaths, tablet shifting slightly with the intake of air, then regards her with wary expectation.

Rose thinks on how she is going to reply to him. Especially after the way he is looking at her right now. She's never really dealt with children in the past so she is a little unsure on what to do.

"Would you like me to leave you alone, Dick?" She asks softly, wanting to give him that option.

"No," he says plaintively. Voice rustling with unshed tears like the leaves of a tree in the first moments of a rain shower.

He takes a last wretched look at the tablet and presses it to his chest. Sniffs a few times. He blots his eyes with the heel of his hand, catching the tears before they can drip down his cheeks. Promising himself this is the last one and breaking that promise over and over.

"Okay, I'm not going anywhere. You can talk to me." Rose assures, face falling when she sees how upset he is.

She is at a loss on what to do because she has never offered comfort to anyone really, let alone a young child. Rose isn't a parent and never will be, so it's a bit difficult for her. She just gives him time for the moment, allowing him to let his feelings out.

Countless minutes pass before Dick lowers the tablet from his breast. His face is red, puffy around the eyes. Snot dribbles from his nose and he wipes it on his sleeve.

He says nothing. He doesn't dare open his mouth--it might upset the precarious balance he's finally found.

She decides to break the silence with a question, hoping that he would be okay enough to answer it.

"How old are you, Dick?" Rose says with a slight smile, trying to encourage him.

"Ten." Too old for crying. His gaze slips away from the screen.

"That's a big age." Rose says with a touch of pride for him.

"Sorry," he says, mistaking pride for reproach, his voice so low as to be inaudible. He swallows. "I won't do it again."

"You haven't done anything at all, Dick," she replies softly. "There's no need to be sorry, it's okay. I promise."

[accidental visual | location: twelfth floor] trust our deepest secrets to the artificial lake

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