The vase didn't hit me.
But it came close.
I flinched as it flew past, grazing my shoulder, and crashed onto the floor with a loud, sharp sound. I fell backward, my palms scraping against the hard tile. My knees burned. My chest felt too tight to breathe.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just curled up. Small. Like I used to when the yelling started.
The boy who threw it stepped forward again. I saw his shoe. Muddy. A little untied.
I closed my eyes.
Then a voice. Loud. Angry. Shaking.
"ILAY!"
I opened my eyes. Serene.
She ran across the room like fire, shoved the boy hard. "DON'T TOUCH HIM!"
He stumbled, shocked.
"What's wrong with you?!" she screamed. "He didn't do anything!"
The second boy tried to talk but Serene grabbed the nearest crayon box and chucked it at him. Crayons exploded everywhere.
A teacher finally ran in, yelling. The room turned into noise and feet and hands pulling people apart.
But Serene didn't let go of me. She crouched low, arms around me, like a shield.
I didn't understand the words. But I felt her. Her heartbeat was fast. Like mine.
_______
They put us in the nurse's room.
My knees stung. My shoulder ached. But no one looked at that.
The nurse kept asking me questions.
I didn't answer.
Serene sat on the bed next to me. Her legs kicked back and forth. She held my hand the whole time.
When they asked what happened, she told them everything. Her voice was loud. Her face was red. "They picked on him! They called him names! They tried to hurt him! He didn't do anything!"
One of the teachers said, "Ilay, can you tell us what happened too?"
I looked at him.
Then looked at Serene.
I shook my head.
She squeezed my hand harder.
Later, they made the boys apologize.
They lied. Said it was a joke.
I didn't look at them.
Serene glared so hard I thought she might punch them. But she didn't. She just turned away.
_____
We sat on the steps outside after school. Just us. The drawing was folded in her backpack.
She took it out and gave it to me. Smoothed the creases.
"They didn't ruin it," she whispered.
I nodded.
"I'm sorry I left you. I shouldn't have."
I shook my head.
She leaned closer, forehead against mine.
"I'll never leave you again. Never. Not even for a second."
My lips parted. A word itched in my throat.
It came out small. Broken. "Promise?"
Her eyes widened.
Then she smiled. That soft, tooth-missing smile.
"Promise."
And that was enough.
I didn't look up when the heavy footsteps pounded toward us.
But Serene did.
"Papa!" she called.
And then he was there—kneeling in front of us, eyes wild, chest heaving.
"I've got him." His voice was tight. Angry. But not at me.
He lifted me into his arms and I let him.
I didn't want to stay there anymore.
______
The house smelled like soup. Warm. Safe.
Her mother gasped when she saw me. She didn't ask questions. Just pulled me into her arms and held me like I was made of glass.
"Mi amor…" she whispered, brushing the dirt from my cheeks, checking every inch of my skin like it mattered.
She cleaned the scrape on my arm. It stung. But I didn't pull away.
No one ever cleaned my wounds before.
Serene sat right next to me the whole time. Her hand on my knee.
I didn't look at the door.
I was scared it'd open again.
Then the knock came.
Heavy. Impatient.
"Elías," Papa muttered. "It's him."
A man walked in. Taller than her dad. Beard, sharp eyes. Her uncle.
He didn't smile.Didn't look at me, not even once.
"Can we talk?" he said. "Privately."
They left us in the living room. But the walls weren't thick enough.
He talked to her parents in the kitchen. Low voices. Too low. But not quiet enough.
"I know you mean well," he said. "But this is dangerous. You don't even know his full story.He's not normal. He needs help. Real help. From professionals."
"Don't talk about him like that," Mama snapped.
"He's a kid!" Papa said. "He needs safety, not rejection."
"From the streets. With trauma. That kind of child needs more than soup and kindness. He needs help. What if he hurts Serene without meaning to?"
My heart dropped.
I didn't know the words exactly.
But I knew what they meant.
They didn't want me.
They wanted me gone.
I curled up tighter on the couch, arms around my knees.
I wanted to disappear.
But then—
Warmth.
Small arms wrapped around my shoulders from the side. A cheek pressed to mine.
Serene.
Her breath tickled as she whispered, soft but fierce, "I promised, right?"
I blinked.
Her forehead pressed against mine.
"You're staying. With me. I don't care what they say."
She smiled. But it wasn't her usual one.
It trembled.Like she was scared too.
But still—she held me.Like she meant every word.
Then—
SLAM.
The door burst open.
Her uncle stormed back into the room.
His eyes were on me now.
And he was walking straight toward us.