Nine
Sandy can’t always make her words get out.
They’re there, but sometimes they get caught in her teeth and don’t manage to roll off her tongue. It usually happens when someone is mad at her, or making her talk about something she doesn’t like. And then when she doesn’t answer? They’ll think she’s ignoring them even though she’s really not and they’ll just get madder, which makes the words stick more, which makes them madder, and on and on.
(Someone is Dad. Someone is Mom. Someone is her karate sensei or her tutors.
Someone is never Tony. Never Jarvis.
But Tony is at school and Jarvis is on vacation and Dad keeps yelling-)
“You can’t throw a fit every time something doesn’t go your way!”
She wasn’t throwing a fit, she just wanted to get some water.
“You wanted the lessons, didn’t you? Well, didn’t you?!”
She did, she does. She’s sorry.
“If you can’t get your act together, then you don’t get to do karate anymore!”
She shakes her head, because she doesn’t want to stop classes, just a different sensei.
“God, Cassandra, can’t you just be normal for once in your life?!”
She’s so sorry.
(She can’t breathe.
She needs to learn to fight because there’s metal in her brother’s chest and winter crashing cars and someone Inevitable coming and forwards and forwards and forwards-
She can’t breathe-)
“Cassandra? Cassandra! Oh shit- Maria! Something’s wrong with Sandy-!”