When we were little, long before nana found me on the side of the road, Kody’s mom made us lunch. Kody brought it to me and smiled. He was kind of like a guardian angel for me. I lost everything, but I still had Kody.
I always had Kody.
He would make me clean up my mess when I visited his house. Kind of like my mom. He even covered my ears when his dad got home.
When his dad came in the room, Kody made sure I was hidden. Either in the closet or under his bed. Either way, he made sure I wasn’t the one beaten. His father took one look around the room and then stumbled over to Kody for a drunken slap. For “being messy,” though really, he wasn’t.
Kody was bruised, trembling, shaken up and ******, but he smiled at me when he opened that closet door or looked under the bed. He smiled.
He yelled at me when I deserved it but always stopped quickly. Long before my father had broken my voice, I wanted to tell him something that made him trust me.
Kody used to get sad when he was mad at me. He cried after shouting. He said he didn’t want me to leave. He said he didn’t want me to be scared of him.
I just placed my hand to his cheek and smiled at him.
“Just breathe.” I said, “It’ll be okay.”