Page 17 of Vandal Unbound

“How did they get to your skull?”

I look to Daisy in desperation. Shedefinitelydoesn’t need to know that the surgery required them peeling my skin from my skull and pulling it down to reveal bone. Or that it was worse than all the scans had shown once they got in there. And how I have nightmares imagining what I must have looked like with my eyebrows down by my chin.

Havoc teased it was like I got a free facelift.

I want to throw up at the thought of it.

“The doctors are really smart and know how to do it. But, it’s made it difficult for me to see things clearly,” I admit.

And Elsie links her arm through mine. “We’re twins.”

“Yeah, Els. We’re twins.”

“Go hop into bed, Elsie,” Daisy says. “I’ll come tuck you in, in a second.”

“No. I need to give Vandal something,” Elsie says, getting up, abandoning her doll and Sir…Bear.

Lord knows what this kid is gonna give me.When she comes back into the room, at first it looks like she isn’t going to give me anything.

“Momma gives me a gold star when I brush my teeth all week. But you can have one for being brave.”

Her little fingers slap it on my leather cut, right next to the little diamond patch that declares me a one-percenter. And I try to fight back the wild tears that sting.

Five points of gold for bravery.

Fuck me.

“Thanks, Els,” I say gruffly.

“Els,” she says, repeating the abbreviation of her name. “Good night, Vandal.”

Daisy watches Elsie curiously, and I wonder if she can even remotely understand what the feel of those little fingers pressing against me means right now when I’m this stuck.

When I’m at this level of bottom.

Daisy stands and follows Elsie, but before she reaches the hallway, she stops and turns. “I’m just gonna go tuck her in. Feel free to sit there and finish your coffee…and please don’t steal anything?”

I raise my cup. “Your shit’s safe.” And I mean it. I don’t fuck with people who don’t deserve it. Plus, I don’t want to say it, but there’s nothing in here worth stealing.

With them both gone and the low-grade itch inside telling me it’s time to lubricate and medicate, the dripping tap starts to get on my last nerve. I understand why water torture is so goddamn successful.

I stand to leave but then realize I can be helpful. I tug my multipurpose pocketknife out of my cut, then take the tap apart, re-situate the washer, and stop the drip.

Down the hallway, I can hear Daisy reading a story with Elsie. It’s about some hippos who like sunbathing on a beach. It’s cute and lyrical, and Elsie often joins in with the bits she knows.

The light fitting takes a minute. The light in the ceiling has come loose from the fitting, making a loose connection. Almost burn my fingers on the bulb before my brain kicks into gear and I turn the light switch off. Probably saved myself from electrocution too.

The fridge door is a little trickier, and I’m still working on it when Daisy comes back into the living room.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing shit,” I mutter. “At least I’m trying to.” I tip my chin in the direction of the sink. “Stopped your drip. And fixed the light.”

Daisy looks around, a pretty smile blooming on her face. “That water drip and flickering light combo gave me a headache the first night here. Thank you. But you really didn’t need to.”

I close the fridge door and open it again. Then repeat the action. “You try it.”

She steps between me and the door. Not close enough that we touch, but close enough that I can catch the scent of her perfume or laundry detergent or whatever it is that makes her smell so clean and pure, I don’t want to reach and touch her in case I dirty her.