[color=gray][h3][sup][sup]“It’s gonna be okay.”

Sunny repeated herself constantly. If she said it enough, it had to be true. Things had always gotten better. She’d always bounced back. There were still ways to find lights at the end of the tunnel. Even if she couldn’t see it now. It had always been true, hadn’t it? She’d had bad days before. And even if the new guy seemed scary, even if he meant what he’d said, he hadn’t hit her. He was rough, and his men were being unusually nasty, but younger mob guys often liked to make a big impression. Even as customers, many had something to prove. Like being tougher than children meant anything. The older guys who dabbled were sometimes rough around the edges, but they didn’t so much insist on it in the same way. When she was brand new, it was the young ones that had frightened her terribly. They reminded her of her older brothers. It often seemed to be her fear and instant capitulation that appealed to them. And then they got gentler, having already won. Most of the cruelty came out in the wash. It always did. Why would this time be any different?

Her face was still pale and her hands were still shaking as she helped dress and comfort the poor darlings in her charge, but she didn’t cry. The holidays this year would be hard, no doubt. And it hurt her heart to know they’d have to be. This year. But she’d turn it around today. Then tomorrow they’d get to it, early and eager, and then this new guy would see he’d won and next year could be better. If only the bad news could wait. But it’d already come, hadn’t it? That awful man couldn’t have the last word. So she handed Fi her keys and asked her to “please get some of the good stuff.” She offered a tight-lipped smile. Fi nodded sharply and solemnly and hurried off. The kids would need something to help take the edge off. A chemical bandage to stop the bleeding and smooth out the bumps.

When they were dressed, Sunny got everyone situated, with the older kids on the couch and in chairs, and the younger ones on the carpeted floor. She and Fi distributed the pills to everyone, and each took their share themselves. All but the very youngest and Fi herself gulped them down dry. Only Cherry hesitated. And the second everyone was attended to, Sunny took her place before them all.

“Before I say anything else, I just want you all to know I’m sorry. I’m sorry things are like this. I’m sorry about how you were treated. I’m really sorry. I wish I could make it go away.”

The younger kids erupted into an incomprehensible stream of questions and commentaries, the older kids parroted anxieties and needs for reassurance, and not a one accepted the simple apology, no matter how sincerely Sunny gazed into their eyes and scrunched her face to show her remorse for it. She held up her hands and patted down. 

“I know, I know,” she assured, “I just—I’m nervous too. It’s normal to feel nervous. This was a scary thing we all went through today. It was scary for me. It must’ve been so scary for you.” Her voice steadied as she spoke. “So before we talk, let’s take some deep breaths. Deep breaths. Just like we do when we’re learning something new and difficult. Deep. Breaths. In. And out. In. And out.”

The kids quieted down. Her words started to linger in the air as the world slowed down for all of them, and the first inkling of calm began to kick in. The little ones leaned on one another and slowly melted as they kept breathing. Fi and Miggy remained stiff. Sally and Bibi slumped in their seats. Cherry wrestled with herself to stay upright.

And once Sunny was more than settled, she drifted floorwards and took a seat sideways, propping herself up with one arm and gripping the shag rug tightly. She closed her eyes and took a final deep breath.

“Okay. We—so we—we need to—”

She took a shaky breath as she tried to regain her bearings. It had been ages since she’d taken a full dose. Steady as her feelings were now, it occurred to her now that she shouldn’t have joined the kids. They’d earned soup in the head. Maybe she had too. But truthfully, she needed to keep her wits together long enough to break down the situation. Even if she wanted more than anything to just flop on the rug and accept whatever came her way. No. Keep it together Sunny. Use your words. She shut her eyes tight and pulled all her focus towards speaking.

“Words. Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Here’s—here’s the thing. I need you to trust me on this. We gotta do our best to be good…good for this new guy in charge. He, uh, he’s being tough on us cause he’s new, okay? It’s—Sally, honey, you’ve been with some of these types recently, right?” Sunny nodded insistantly. Sally nodded lazily. Sunny gestured optimistically to Sally.

“And, you know, y’see—uh, they play rough, cause they don’t…know…that—that we know they’re in charge. They don’t get it.” Sunny massaged the bridge of her nose. She gazed lazily past her half-closed lashes.

“So we gotta…show ‘em we know. That we’re good…‘n’ that we’re just—just, uh, y’know, trying t’make’em happy. And, uh, what that means is doin’...what he wants us to do. You gotta trust me on this, okay?” Sunny sat up and crisscrossed her legs. She wobbled in place. Her mouth quivered as she steadied herself. She cocked an optimistic little half-smile. She’d forgotten just how rosy a real dose made her feel. She’d have wept if she’d remembered how much better it was.

“It—This—I know what he wants us to do. Take everybody. Anybody who pays. But it’s—look, I know—the mean, spooky dudes, they’re rough and you don’t wanna—y’don’t wan’em to hurt you. But I’ve been through it. And—and I’m okay, you see? And so, just—” She patted the air with her hand. “—Just trust me and ride the high. Take the pretty pills, and—and we’ll get through this. Do your best. And I’ll make sure we get through this. We’re gonna get through this. We’ve done this before—back—back when we were kids. And the pills make it [i]all[/i] better. Right, Fi?”

Fi sat frozen, staring off into the distance. 

“Fi, honey? You okay?” Sunny leaned forward with a frazzled grin on her lips. Her hands sank into her lap, then her arms tensed to help support her. “Fi? Fee-fi?” she sing-songed.

Fi blinked heavily, inhaled and heavily exhaled as if she’d forgotten to breathe, then delivered a short, jerking nod. She remained silent. Sunny cocked her head and nodded sympathetically.

“Like, yeah, it’s not gonna be easy-breezy. But—but seriously though. I don’—If it hurts—If-if it ever—if you ever feel bad—You gotta tell me, okay? And while this is goin’ on, ‘n’ [i]we[/i] can’t say no—I won’t say no.” Sunny jabbed herself in the thigh with her pointer finger and nodded assuredly. “I don’t want you to hurt. I—You know, I don’t like givin’ these out like candy. I want you guys to be real kids, get your happiness from the heart, y’know?” She drummed her fist over her heart. “But—but we’re gonna get through this, man. We’re—we’re gonna get through this, ‘n’it’ll be okay, ‘n’ we’re gonna smile the whole time cause we got the good stuff, ‘n’ we got each other.”

She held up her hands and smiled.

“It’s gonna be okay! It’s really, really gonna be okay! I'm gonna make okay, okay?” She stumbled to her feet and lurched towards Cherry. She planted a kiss on the zonked-out girl’s forehead, slumped onto her knees before the chair, and hugged her lazily.

“Whenever you’re hurt, I’ll give you pills ‘n’ kisses ‘n’ hugs ‘n’ booze ‘n’ whatever you need.” She flopped back onto her butt and held her hands out to the kids, “And I don’t care what it takes! We’ll clean up…clean up…and then…then we’ll have pizza tonight. Pizza and soda and pretty pills.” She pointed in a sweeping motion across the room. “I love you guys. We’re gonna get through this. I’m gonna make it all better. Promise.” 
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