Not Yours

Devin's POV

Sweetie fixed her little dress back up and hugged his daughter so tight. She kissed her on the cheek and on top of the forehead. "You finally get to come inside. Welcome." She choked a little.

Then, I saw something that she had been hiding from me. Something I had expected to see a lot of when I got here. Sweetie was crying. She was crying for all the times our daughter had been kept outside. She was crying from the happiness of being able to have her inside. She was crying because . . .? It was like she believed that it would be the last time she held her or something?

Cheery Pie offered her a tissue. Sweetie took it. "To have your daughter in your hands, able to bring her into the comfort of your home. Something you have been denied the ability to do for so long. It must have been so hard for you."

Sweetie still couldn't answer her. She had been crying too deeply to get anything out. There was nothing but sobbing she couldn't control. I could feel my own self tear up. I wanted to go over and comfort her, but I might be shunned away.

I might be, but if I'm not. Then, I wanted to be there. I had seen those tears before in my line of work. I've seen that grip. I've seen that grieving. She was grieving for losses that weren't gone yet, but she believed wholeheartedly would be.

I approached and Sweetie didn't hold out her hand to tell me to stay away. Our daughter had her arms around her mom real tightly, just as worried.

I touched her hand, to gauge her reaction. When she seemed fine with it? I hugged her. I hugged both of them, holding each in my arms.

She just stood there crying, letting me hug her for some time. There was no rush. No one was demanding they do anything else.

My little girl had some long hair for a child. It looked like she had never gotten it trimmed. It was a wild reddish brown color, matted and messed up. She deserved to be washed.

"Ma ma," she said.

Cheery Pie came back over again. "Is that the only word she knows?"

Sweetie finally shook her head at Cheery Pie.

"Some men are monsters. Such monsters," she told her. She looked back toward me. "You take care of the monsters who did this to your family. Find them and follow your duty." She straightened up and smiled at my daughter. "So, Little Girl? I bet you are excited to go inside and be with your mommy and daddy, huh? You are going to have such a fun day I bet. By the end of it, too? You are going to have your very own name, Pumpkin. Isn't that exciting?"

My daughter smiled wide. Even though she didn't say much, she still grasped what was being said.

"Good." She looked back toward Sweetie. "Are you ready to let your son and daughter meet inside the house for the first time?"

Tears just overwhelmed Sweetie again.

This was bad. Sweetie didn't want to move at all. Like she wanted to freeze, and just stop life from moving forward. Like she was content to just stay in that moment. "Sweetie?" I tried to call to her. "We need to go inside."

"Can I be selfish?" Strange words came out of her mouth. "Do I accept quick and easy, or the long to stay long?"

Her words didn't make sense. Was she talking about having to stay because of the mission I was on? "I have to stay for so long, it would be better. A lot of lives are depending on us. When it's clear, I swear I will get you out of here along with our children."

Her expression didn't change. "Dev."

At least my sister putting the tag of Dev on me gave her something to grasp onto then just 'guard'. "Yes?"

"Is life being longer any better, when it ends in torture?" she asked outright. "Is it better to end it swiftly with less pain?"

What the heck? Life? "Those kinds of words shouldn't be coming from you," I scolded her. "You are worth way better than either of those, you are going to live, and so are our children."

"My children," she said to me.

She didn't want to share the terms 'ours' with me? She was in a fragile state, maybe sharing ours with someone that hadn't even known his little girl and boy existed a few days ago was too much? 

I should say more than children. I understand why she chose Wolfie, but I still didn't like the name. The girl wasn't allowed to have a name. Calling them my children seemed to be the better way of handling the situation. 

She didn't seem to want that though. "Okay." I tried to cooperate with his wishes. "What do you want me to call the children?"

"Little boy. Little girl. My children," she said. "They are just my children."

That didn't make any better sense. I thought she wanted me to call them something in particular. "You don't want me to call them our children. I won't call them our children if you prefer me not to." I tried again, this time with more words. Our communication between each other wasn't doing well. "I need a way to refer to them then when I am addressing them. What do you want me to call them?" I really didn't want to call the boy Wolfie. Maybe there was a different addressal. "I want something more than little boy and little girl."

"You don't get it. They are mine, not yours. Not yours." Then, she whispered the truth to me. The misunderstanding melted away as her gentle breath near my ear rang with compassion but fright.

"Devin Oliver Olivacea. My children are not yours."