bamber 'bambi' mae } d5

She runs as fast her short little legs will carry her, her backpack smacking against her as she flies down the block. Tears stream down her cheeks and if she wasn't panting from running, she would be sobbing right now.

Children can be kind and sweet, but they can also be very cruel. Her best friend, Olivia, is one of the few people who sees her for more than the way she talks. Bambi has had a stutter for as long as she can remember. The other kids at school viciously bully her for it. Sometimes she tries not to talk at all, staying silent for most of class unless Olivia is there.

Today, Bambi was shoved to the concrete on the playground after school and told that she talks like she's missing a brain. Olivia knocked them to the ground right back, punching them in the face to give them a taste of their own medicine.

Olivia means well, but it doesn't make Bambi feel better. She told Olivia that she was going to go home alone today, and then walked off. She broke into a run when the tears starting falling.

Her knee is throbbing in pain, and blood is dropping down her knee from the scab, but that is not why Bambi cries. She cries because she can't stop thinking about how everyone stares at her when it's her turn to read out loud in class. She cries because Olivia is the only one at school who wants to be her friend.

Bambi finally reaches her house, flinging the door open and dropping her backpack beside the entrance. It's pastel pink with a rainbow patch sewn onto its front.

She is about to run up the stairs to her room, but she stops when she walks by her father's office and sees that he is sitting at his desk.

Bambi tentatively steps into the room, her sniffling and teary-eyed. Blood dribbles down from her knee to her shin, but the bleeding has begun to halt and dry on her skin.

After a moment, Hyram Mae looks up from the paperwork on his desk and peers at her over the edge of his reading glasses. He takes the cigar he is smoking from his mouth and asks, "What's wrong?"

If it were any of his other children standing in the doorway, he would say, "What do you want?" But it's Bambi, whose soft heart he has never wanted to ruin with his cold words.

Bambi doesn't know where to begin. She pauses for a moment, and then her father's eyes find her bloodied knee.

"Take a seat," he tells her, waving a hand to one of the black leather chairs across from his desk.

She shuffles forward and sits down. Instead of talking, Bambi sniffles and then begins to bawl. She tries to wipe the tears away with her hands, but a new wave just replaces them each time she cleans them off.

Hyram does not like crying, but what little patience he has for it is reserved for Bambi. He rubs his temple and takes a swig of whiskey from the glass next to the paperwork.

"Crying doesn't tell me anything," Hyram says.

Her father is not harsh with her, not ever. Sometimes he can be a bit short, but never harsh. All the ice in his tone melts away when he speaks to her, but it is never warm. Neutrality is the closest it will ever be to warmth.

To Bambi, his voice is warm. Her father is a man of ice, but she sees him as bright, pleasant fire, like the hearth that crackles in their living room in the winter.

She has heard the way he speaks to her siblings. He's always so sharp and austere with them. Bambi never questions why that is. Things have always been that way; she just accepts them as they are.

Bambi blinks at him, the tears that hang on her lashes wetting her under eyes. She swallows hard, trying to make her throat feel less tight so she can speak.

"S-someone at school pppushed m-me and they said... t-that I talk like I'm m-m-missing a... b-brain," she manages to say. "O-O-Olivia beat them up, but..."

But I don't feel any better, and my knee hurts, Bambi wants to say. Her throat tightens up as more tears trickle down her face.

She's only eleven years old. Bambi has been told that she will grow out of it, but she isn't very confident that she will. She's always been this way.

Hyram leans back in his chair, looking unimpressed. For a moment, Bambi's stomach twists as she worries that it's directed at her, but that thought is quickly disproven. "If that is the best they can come up with then they're the ones without a brain," he assures her.

The shadow of a smirk appears on his face. Hyram takes a long drag of his cigar, then adds, "If someone pushes you, you push back."

Bambi sniffles again. "But isn't it b-bad if I... h-hurt somebo-ody?"

There is a pause, and then her father replies, "Not if they deserve it."

She doesn't think anyone deserved to be harmed, but Bambi nods complacently. She is probably wrong, anyway. Her dad is always right about everything, isn't he?

"I have to get back to work, Bambi," Hyram says dismissively, "and it's nearing your bedtime."

Bambi nods again, blinking away tears. "Ok-ay," she mutters. She stands up, but then stops and looks up at her father with large, hopeful copper eyes. "Could y-ou read... to me, D-Da-ad? W-when you're done?"

His face hardens at the request. "No," Hyram deadpans, and Bambi's face falls.

It takes all of her conscious effort not to cry again, but she can't help it when her eyes begin to glisten, threatening more tears. She doesn't want her father to know that he's hurt her feelings. Bambi wishes he would hug her, just for once. He used to pick her up and put her on his shoulders when she was younger, but now she is starved of that physical affection.

But then Hyram seems to soften, and he picks out a book from his shelf. "But, er... here's a book to read," he says as he hands it to her.

Bambi gives him a weak smile, tasting the salt of her tears as she does. "Th-anks Dad," she replies. Her voice is still cracked and trembling. "Goodn-night."

( ❀ )

One night, her father comes home an hour before midnight. Bambi is sitting at the dining room table with Wolfgang and Sutton, sketching the logo for the boutique she and Olivia are planning to open after graduation. Lysander and Cae are upstairs, and their mother is in the living room.

Bambi perks up when she sees him through the arch of the dining room's entrance.

"Dad!" she exclaims, beaming as holds up her sketch. "Look, I've got something to show you!"

Bambi is fourteen; she doesn't stutter anymore. She slowly grew out of it as she got older, but she is still just as naive as ever. She never grew out of that — it might be years before she does.

Hyram saunters into the dining room, standing close enough to see Bambi's sketch. On the table, she has a few other drawings of designs for dresses. Sewing and knitting began as a hobby for her, but now she designs and makes clothing. Even the dress she wears right now — it's pink and knee-length with cherry blossom prints, her favorite flower — was made by her.

Her eyes catch a small red stain on his shirt, which contrasts sharply with the pristine white button-up. Bambi lowers her drawing and squints at it quizzically.

"What's that?" she asks, pointing at the stain.

"Well, obviously it's—" Sutton starts, but she is quickly silenced as Hyram glares daggers at her, as if to say, Not another word.

Hyram does not coddle or shelter his other children. Bambi is the exception. He is diligent in protecting her from the truth: that the Maes are not businesspeople, they're druglords. Even if he didn't care to preserve her innocence and ignorance, it would still be in his best interest to keep that secret from her. Bambi is a walking, talking security risk. She is a horrible secret keeper, and doesn't understand discretion very well.

Then, Hyram answers, "It's sauce."

"Oh, okay," Bambi accepts the answer without a second thought.

If only she knew — it would shatter her reality forever.