We went to the hospital after that, asking for Meli's body. We got to see it too, being friends--and because we asked. The doctors didn't seem very worried about showing it around.

The body was burned beyond recognition. Apparently a neighbour had identified her by the gold heart necklace she always wore. It was stuck to the flesh of her black, charred chest. Her jaw grinned maniacally.

I cried out, my voice ringing in the cold and empty morgue, only the other inhabitants there to hear. Tasha folded me into her arms and let me get it all out.

After that we went to search for Hannah. A nurse led us to a little room, where we found her lying still on a white bed, looking at the ceiling. Her jeans were torn at the knee.

"We tried to talk to her, but she isn't responding well," the nurse told us, looking with concern at the tiny face through the glass. "It is the shock, of course. The psychiatrist thinks it would be better if we let her mind accept the fact that her mother is gone before we talk to her. It would be even better if her family were here."

"Would it be okay if we talk to her? We might want to take her home with us." I asked.

"Are you family?"

"No, but close."

The nurse looked uncertain for a second, and then shrugged. "I don't see anything wrong with that. You will have to talk to the doctor about taking her home with you, though. The doctor and the Police," she added, looking at us with meaningful eyes.

We both nodded, and when she left, entered the room.

Hannah's head turned around when she heard the door open. She looked at us for a moment, then a single tear rolled down her cheek. It was the saddest tear I had ever seen. Her face didn't crunch up. She didn't wail and collapse into helpless sobs. Only that silent tear was the evidence of the pain inside her.

"Hannah, darling," I said, doing my best to not crumble before her silent sorrow.

"It's true then," she said. Her voice didn't crack either. It was the tone she used, though, that chilled me to my soul. It was the tone of an adult. Hannah had always been that kind of a five-year old who spoke with careless abandon, according to her mother. I had met her only once before, and found that she was right. Now it seemed like she didn't have any energy left for that. "My mom is dead."

"Hannah--" Tasha started.

"Please don't lie to me," she said. "I just want to know the truth."

My heart collapsed. It was very hard to keep standing up. I moved closer to the bed but didn't touch her--not yet. "Yes, it is the truth. But we are here."

"I don't know you," Hannah said. "I saw you only once."

"Your mother knew us," I told her.

"Did my mom love you?"

"I don't know, darling, but I would like to think she did."

The girl studied my face with all too grown-up eyes. "Are you the one who took her to the doctor?"

"Baby?" I asked. What was she talking about?

"The day she got beaten up. Were you the one who helped her?"

"I... Well, yes, but it wasn't only me. Another nice man helped too."

"She told me that if something happened to her, you would come. That you would take me with you."

Something very painful wedged itself into my heart. "Did she now? Then I think she did love me. Because she loved you very much and she won't have wanted to leave you with anyone she didn't like."

The girl nodded. Another tear rolled down her temple and into her hair. "I will miss her," she whispered.

I sat down beside her and squeezed her hand. She didn't pull away. "We all will," I told her. "But you don't have to do it alone."

"Do you think she is happy now? Wherever she is?"

"I don't know if she is right now, but she will be once you are safe with us. She's watching over her little girl. You know that, don't you?"

"I want her to be happy."

"Then all you have to do is be happy yourself."

Another tear. "I don't think I will ever be."

"I don't think I will too, honey. But we have to suffer it the best we can."

"Do you think my father will miss her?"

The most bitter of smiles fought its way to my lips. "I am sure he will."

"I want to go home," she said.

"Honey, do you believe that home is where those who care about you are?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know."

"Then we will show you. We will take you home. It might be a little different, but it will be where all those who love you are. Would you like that?"

"I want a home."

A thought struck me. "Do you wanna go back to your father, honey?" I didn't want to ask, but I had to. He might be a despicable man, John, but he was still her father.

The child thought for a long moment, looking at me with her big, bright eyes. Then, in nothing but a whisper, she said, "No."

Thank heavens.

Very slowly, so as not to startle her, I wound my arms around her little body. She remained stiff as a board for a moment, and then all of a sudden melted like an ice berg, as if she just couldn't bear to hold it all inside her anymore and wanted to release the sorrow into my body.

I took it all. This wasn't a burden a child should bear. It would always remain, of course. But time would heal the wound. It always did. We might think it never would, but time was a bitch like that. It always made us forget.

Hot tears drenched my shoulder. She still didn't make a sound.

"I will speak to the doctor and the Police then," Tasha whispered from beside the door.

"What will you tell them?" I asked. The kid in my arms gripped me harder.

"I brought my cheque book."

Fifteen minutes later, after Tasha's expert manipulations, we were driving home again. I sat in the back seat, Hannah on my lap, her little arms around my neck. She hadn't let go of me from the time I had put my arms around her, and she didn't look inclined to ever again. She fell asleep after sometime, exhaustion positively leaking out of her body.

On reaching the complex, Tasha took her from my arms so I could climb the stairs and open the door. The child stirred, disturbed.

On opening the door, I made Tasha carry Hannah straight to my bed and lay her there. Then I slipped in besides her. I stroked her hair and whispered nonsense things to her till her breathing evened out.

I was slowly getting out of bed when another little child spoke up. My little child. "Mommy, who is that?"

I looked at Ella. She was still lying in the same position she had been in when I had first entered the room, but it was clear from her eyes that she hadn't been asleep for some time. Possibly from the time I had come in. Slowly, I got up and went to her. I sat down beside her and ran my fingers down her cheek.

I didn't feel like being mad at her. I could be mad with her any other time I wanted. Right then, after seeing a little child breaking like a rag doll on losing her mother, I couldn't bear the thought of fighting with her. I knew how much she meant to me. After all that had happened, she was the only thing that made me wake up in the morning and even think about going on.

But sometimes it did take a tragedy to bring everything back into perspective.

"She's Meli's daughter. Remember Meli? I used to work with her. You haven't seen her. She was a very nice woman."

Ella caught on quickly enough. Sometimes her shrewdness scared me. "Was?"

"She died today."

Ella gasped. "Oh. What happened?"

Somebody burned her to death. "Some bad things, kiddo. Maybe I will tell you some other time."

Ella understood all too well what I was trying to get at. "Okay," she said. Then her eyes flickered towards Hannah. "Is she going to live with us?"

I looked at Hannah too. There was a frown on her face and her hand fisted the blanket so hard she looked like she wanted to rip it apart. "That's the plan."

"Will she be my sister?"

I smiled at my daughter. "If you want her to be."

"I do," Ella assured. "I really do. I will take care of her, like you take care of everybody."

Oh, baby girl, if only I could.

"That's my girl." I kissed her brow. "I am so proud of you. Now you should go back to sleep. Mommy needs some time alone."

"You can cry with me, if you want?" she offered.

My heart splintered once again. "I know I can, baby, but I don't want to trouble you."

"You will feel more comfortable with Aunty Tasha, right?"

"Only because she is older and I won't scare her."

"So when I am older, you will cry with me too."

I pinched her cheek. "You can bet," I said. "Now, go to sleep. It will be a long day tomorrow."

"I love you, Mommy. Very much."

"I love you too, sweetheart. More than life itself."

When I came out of the room I found Tasha sitting on the couch, a steaming mug in her hand and one waiting on the coffee table. She had placed all the cushions back. Granny Tonks was sitting in her armchair, wide awake. There was a mug in her hand too.

"You should really get some decent coffee. This green tea tastes like pee," Tasha said.

"That's what I tell her," Granny commented, taking a sip from her mug. There was no steam coming out it. Definitely not tea.

I didn't say anything. In silence, I sat down besides Tasha. I didn't touch my tea.

"Are you okay?" Tasha asked when I didn't say anything for some time.

I shook my head. "No, but I think I will be."

And without any prompting, Tasha wrapper her arms around me and I burst into tears. I cried and cried and cried, compensating for all the tears that I should have released throughout the night but had been saving. I cried for the time I found out about Meli, I cried for seeing Meli's body, and I cried for seeing Hannah lying silent in her bed, a squashed rose.

But most of all, I cried for all the memories of Meli that flooded my mind. The time when I had met her for the first time and she had told me not to mind Fred, that he was more bark than bite; the time when she tried to put pink lipstick on my lips and instead put it in my nose; the time she tried to trick me into sipping beer and I upturned the whole glass over her head. I cried for her smile, the one I would never see again, for her little snort-y laugh, for her pink hair and pink lips and pink clothes.

After a moment I felt tiny, leathery arms wrap around me from behind. Granny Tonks put her head against my back and we all cried together. Because what was it, in fact, that described a family? Was it who you laughed with? Was it who you partied and had fun with? No. Family was who you cried with. The ones from whom you never held back your tears.

After we were all spent, the huddle broke up. Granny Tonks hobbled back to her chair and picked up her mug. I didn't even want to know what was inside. Once I had caught her trying to drink deer pee because her hippy friends told her it would strengthen her bones.

I wiped under my nose. My fingers came away sticky with goo. I wiped them on my sleeve. Hey, I was with family.

"I better call Mr. Rodwell, then," I said, pulling my phone out. My voice sounded croaky. "I don't think we will make it to work tomorrow, what with the funeral and such. You should call your boss too."

"Hmm..."

I searched for the number in my message conversations and found it in the forefront. Mr. Rodwell had taken my number so he could send me his appointments the moment he made them, for me to log them down. He had also strictly told me to never call back. But what else could I do? The only other number I had was the office one and he sure won't be there this ungodly hour of night.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Miss Mahal?" His husky voice made me shiver. He didn't sound like he had been asleep at all.

"Mr. Rodwell? I am--"

"What happened to your voice? Are you okay?" he asked. There was alarm in his voice. And why won't there be? What kind of an idiot calls her boss at---I looked at the clock---at three in the morning. Damn, I hadn't even looked at the time before calling!

"Mr. Rodwell, I---"

"Stay put. I am coming right now. Don't go out."

"Wait, wh---"

He hung up.

***

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