No one turned to look my way.
Panic coursed through my body as I put my hand over my mouth, watching in complete horror and disbelief. The little girl, I had never seen before, played with the pills like they were toy cars. Sliding all the different colors and tablets through the white powder on the table. She reached for a needle and I lunged into action, roughly pushing my way through the crowd. Hurrying to the little girl before she grabbed the syringe.
“No! No! No!” I yelled over the music once I got to her, but it still sounded muffled.
She jerked back, frightened that someone was suddenly in her face. Her little lip jutted out and tears filled her eyes. I crouched down in front of her seat, wanting to be on her level.
“It’s okay, sweetie, don't cry. I’m Briggs. What’s your name?”
I rubbed her back and she bowed her head. “Molly,” she whispered so low I could barely hear her.
“How old are you, Molly?” I coaxed, trying to get her to trust me.
She put her hand out in front of her, holding up four fingers.
“Wow. You’re a big girl.”
She nodded, smiling. Her guard coming down. I looked up at the table in front of her and noticed a My Little Pony coloring book beneath the pills and blow that she had just been playing with.
“Can I carry you? We can go outside, it’s so loud in here. Have you been outside? There’s a balcony and there’s a whole bunch of buildings and bright lights,” I said, excitedly. “And sometimes birds come and they sit right on the railing, or even better, at the table with you.”
Her face lit up. Nodding her head fervently. “Like Cinderella?”
“Yes. Exactly like Cinderella. Okay, come on,” I said, picking her up under her arms and placing her on my hip.
Not one person was paying attention to me. No one was watching her, taking care of her, looking after her. No one fucking cared. They just left her with a coloring book and crayons at a table full of drugs.
Why would someone bring a kid here?
I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if I didn’t see her reaching for a fucking needle of all things. If I hadn’t come home when I did. I shook away the thoughts, taking her in my bathroom first. I lifted her up on the sink to wash her hands of the drugs that she was just playing with, thinking they were toys. I asked her repeatedly if she put anything in her mouth, if she ate anything and each time she shook her head no. I didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but she looked fine.
If she took anything it would have already had an effect on her. I was there now. If she started acting funny, I wouldn’t hesitate to call 911. I didn’t give a shit what the repercussions could be. It made me sick to my fucking stomach that some asshole would bring their baby here and that Austin would let it happen.
I picked her back up on my hip, grabbing Austin’s notebook from his nightstand with a few colored pencils since her coloring book was covered in cocaine.
At the last second, I grabbed my memory blanket, hoping that it would give her the same security it always gave me. I made my way through the crowd out to the balcony. Finally finding Austin out there, smoking a cigarette with Jon and a few other random people.
“Baby,” Austin greeted as soon as I opened the doors. “There’s my girl… I was starting to worry about you,” he slurred.
He took a drag of his cigarette as he walked toward me, blowing the smoke to the side, before pulling me into his arm, trying to kiss me. I shoved him away, and he stumbled back. He still hadn’t even realized I was holding a kid in my arms.
“The fuck?” he muffled out, gripping my arm. “What’s your problem?”
“You! You’re my problem. Whose kid is this, Austin?” I asked, nodding toward her.
He blinked a few times, trying to focus on the little girl but failing miserably in doing so.
I sighed, disappointed, furious, and annoyed.
“Everyone go inside!” I roared.
They all looked back at Austin as if it didn’t matter what I said. Like it didn’t matter that this was my damn apartment, my space they were all invading. He nodded towards the balcony doors.
I sat Molly on a wrought iron chair, throwing all the shit that was on the table onto the floor. Not giving a fuck what it was. I placed Austin’s notebook in front of her, opening it up to a blank page and handing her the colored pencils.
She beamed, sitting up on her chubby little thighs to see and reach the notebook better.
“Will you draw me a picture? Maybe Twilight Sparkle? I love her purple hair,” I stated, pulling back her soft brown hair away from her round baby face.
“Yes. She has purple hair like you,” she said in the cutest little voice.