Winter had always been Aggie’s favourite time of year. In the heat, she felt sicker, and this made her miserable. As a little girl, she enjoyed the holidays. They weren’t the same now; there was far too much social obligation, and far too little time. In the cooler weather, she sometimes attempted to walk around the block with Kerr. Some days, she was more successful than others. There had been times during a walk when Aggie fainted, and Kerr had been her comfort until she woke up. When the weather was hot, Aggie became faint and nauseous and didn’t enjoy leaving the house. When Kieve lived at home, he would accompany Aggie on walks, knowing it was likely she would leave them incomplete. Kieve wasn’t always nice to his sisters. After Blodwyn died, he became much softer toward Aggie.

When Aggie returned home from her first date, Kieve waited behind the door for her. He’d come over that night with his wife for a visit, and they never stayed long. It was hard to manoeuvre the wheelchair through the tiny house. Aggie used to love it here. These days, it was just too crowded.

“Who was that?”

Kieve had never been overprotective. When Aggie made it through the door, she slid against the wall, feeling flushed and tired. “Who?”

She’d gotten home in time for dinner. Although her father was still at work, Aggie’s sister-in-law was a good cook, and was more than happy to take over. Kieve gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “That guy you were just kissing. Who was he?”

Aggie had always felt the need to ask her father for permission, even well into her adult years. Some days, it still felt strange to do things without her father’s knowledge. “It’s none of your business. I can kiss who I want.”

Aggie missed Wales: the climate, the people, her old home. Mostly she missed her family. Before breakfast, when her father had gone to work, Aggie sat to speak to Blodwyn under the soft lights of her loft.

“I miss you, Blodwyn.” It was quiet. Aggie could have sat in silence her whole life. “It’s almost your eighteenth birthday. I know you’re not here to celebrate, but I’m still having a party for you.” Kerr, who sensed the emotions of his owners, curled up underneath Aggie’s arm. “I was thinking about the time we made a fort in the trees outside our house and wouldn’t let Kieve inside. He was so angry.” Aggie wasn’t sure what she believed regarding death. She was from an irreligious family who rarely spoke of death or what happened afterwards. It wasn’t until Blodwyn died that Aggie began to spend time wondering where she had gone.

As a teenager, Aggie had taken a day trip to Caernarfon Castle with her family. She was very newly disabled, and hadn’t yet come to terms with the idea of mobility aids. The biggest hurdle for many disabled people, Aggie had found, was the realization that it wasn’t something to be ashamed of. In the days when her diagnoses were fresh in her mind, she felt embarrassed to speak of them, to be any visibly different than anybody else. The truth was that, not only was the disabled community the world’s largest minority, it was also the only one anybody could become a part of at any time.

When Blodwyn was alive, she loved plants and knitting. She had a perch in her bedroom containing a variety of plants, which she took great pride in. She knitted her loved ones things like scarves, sweaters, hats. Aggie’s favourite winter cap was one Blodwyn had made - one Aggie wore every year.

It was late morning when Briar picked Aggie up . Briar worked a part-time job as a receptionist, which she disliked. Aggie had never had a job before: and living with her father meant she wasn’t required to support herself. Getting a job would have meant feeling more like an adult, and more like a person who contributed to society. Aggie, who had grown tired of the limited space in the tiny home, had been thinking about leaving the home to live on her own. When left alone, Cecil was a lonely and depressed man.

“Hey, girl.” said Briar, helping Aggie load her wheelchair into the van. “How’re you doing?”

She’d just gotten off work, and the girls had plans to get lunch at the mall. Aggie hadn’t spent much time with her friend lately. More often than not, she simply didn’t have the spoons to do anything productive.

Sweating made Aggie uncomfortable and overwhelmed. Briar’s air conditioning was turned up as high as it went. “Can you drive me home after we’re done at the mall?” Most people were comforted by small talk. Aggie had never seen the point in talking just to break the silence. She said what she wanted to say, and nothing further.

“I don’t know, Briar. It’s just hard to tell if he actually likes me or if I’m just being annoying.”

“Girl, please. This man works sixty plus hour weeks, and then drives forty five minutes to spend all of his free time with you.”

She had a pain in her legs. When she stood too long, they turned a faint purple colour. The first time Aggie fainted, she was thirteen years old and giving a group presentation in class. This was awful enough in itself - Aggie always suffered through group projects. Standing at the front of the classroom, with twenty pairs of judgmental eyes on her, she’d begun to feel dizzy and ill in a way that was difficult to explain. When she’d opened her mouth to attempt to speak, she’d instead fallen to the floor.

Leaving the house was always overwhelming. The mall, which was filled with crowds and noise, was a place Aggie could never stay for long. She enjoyed small second-hand stores, and did most of her essential shopping online. When she spoke to her father about her desire to move out, he expressed concern about her lack of independence. With age and maturity came a strain in Aggie’s relationship with her father. She loved the man, but he made her feel cramped, and being cramped made it hard to breathe.

“You have to understand something about your father,” said Isolde, years ago, when Aggie was still coming to terms with her disabilities. “He spends a lot of time worrying about you. He’s only overprotective because he loves you.”

When Aggie was a child, being protected was fine. She was nearing her mid-twenties now, and being protected made her feel helpless. Aggie struggled to believe in her competency - and she blamed much of this on her father’s helicopter parenting. She suspected the only way to grow up and learn how to be an adult was to have her own space. It wasn’t as easy as just packing up and leaving. Aggie had no job, and very little money.

Briar opened a window. “Sure. I’m glad to hear things are still going well with you two. How long have you been dating now, anyway? Six months?”

Over the course of their friendship, Briar had learned to be direct and to say exactly what she meant. There had been far too many miscommunications for her to be coy or indirect. “Actually, nine. We don’t spend that much time together though, and I don’t like that. He has a baby now, and she always needs something.”

Aggie disliked children. They were noisy, unpredictable. They never cared if they were too much. Aggie never wanted to be a mother. Despite this, she still had an unusual sense of mourning. Some people could become mothers without even trying, which seemed unfair to those who had to spend their whole lives trying.

Outside the mall, Briar looked at Aggie. It was hard, sometimes, not to be envious of allistics, who could pick up on social hints and read body language easily. “Are you insecure about that?” Aggie was tired. She had gotten a lot of sleep the night before, but became tired by not doing much at all.

“Yes.” Standing to remove her chair from the trunk made Aggie dizzy. Why would a neurotypical, able-bodied person want to spend time with a person like her? “I’m trying not to be insecure, but sometimes I wonder why people hang out with me.” Briar wouldn’t understand. She had never had any trouble making friends.

As a child, Aggie’s mother used to tell her she was too honest for her own good - but Aggie had never understood what was so bad about being honest. People couldn’t make up their minds: they wanted her to be honest, and then got angry when she was. It was things like this that made Aggie not want to speak much at all. Briar said people liked honesty when it made them look good, and not when it didn’t. It was hard to understand this mindframe.

Blodwyn’s first boyfriend was also her only boyfriend. A week after her death, Aggie’s mother was informed that there had been a private photo circulated of Blodwyn, and the boy she’d been dating had had it in his possession. Although nobody had ever proved that Blodwyn’s ex-boyfriend had shared the image, Aggie had always believed it to be him.

“Mrs. Sayce, we’ve had a situation with your daughter. She told a boy at recess that he was getting fat from eating too many sweets.”

Aggie, sweetheart, her mother would say, playing with her hair or her fingers. These things might be true, but you can’t say them out loud, because they’ll hurt people’s feelings. Sometimes, the truth makes people insecure, and they get upset. Do you understand? She never did. Even when Aggie tried to be politically correct, she always said something wrong. The most confusing part of it all was that it seemed to offend people when she asked what she’d said wrong.

When Briar dropped her off at the townhouse, Aggie was warm and lightheaded, the way she often felt before a fainting spell. After learning of her reactions to uncertainty, Salem had taken to informing Aggie who would be there on a day she visited. It was hard to get around here in her chair, because of the stairs. There were always ways around this.

Once, Aggie sprained her ankle tripping over a tree root in the woods. For an able-bodied person, this would have been nothing but a mild annoyance in an otherwise-relaxing hike. For Aggie, it was a trip to the hospital.

Dressed in a tiny ladybug costume, Thaïs fussed in the baby carrier her mother wore. She had chubby arms and legs, and very thick hair, and stared at her father, who stood smoking outside his back door. Thaïs was too young to participate in Halloween: but this hadn’t stopped her mother from dressing the baby in tiny costumes. “Happy birthday, by the way.” Kioni was tired, always; she was dressed as Maleficent, and removed Thaïs from the carrier on her chest. “She had a bath. She just needs a change and her pyjamas before going to bed.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Aggie had met Kioni for the first time many months ago, on the day of the woman’s twenty week ultrasound. After leaving the bar, Kioni had driven her home. It was hard not to feel inferior: an underdeveloped disabled girl and an accomplished curvy woman. Kioni was friendly and affectionate, an opposite to Aggie. She’d answered the girl’s questions openly and offered her comfort about insecurities - never prying, never oversharing. It was strange and admirable for a person to have such control of how they spoke. When Aggie had returned home at the end of the night, she’d fallen straight asleep.

“When you two were dating, did you ever wonder if he loved you?”

“Sometimes. I’m very affectionate and open. Salem doesn’t say he loves you like a normal person.”

“Then how do you know?”

“You pay attention.”

It was hard to read people. They said eyes were the windows to the soul, that emotions could be read on the faces of everyone: but, what if every expression looked the same?

Thaïs had her mother's eyes. Sitting cross-legged in a plastic chair, Aggie watched. It was early in the evening, and she’d had the idea to visit a haunted house that night. It was their first Halloween as a couple, and Aggie had insisted they wear matching costumes. Salem took the baby, who turned her head when he spoke. Since their daughter’s birth, Kioni had been struggling with postpartum depression, and often called Salem for support very late at night. He didn’t mind this, but Aggie wasn’t sure how she felt about it. That was what happened with kids, though. Kioni was a part of his life forever now. “How’ve you been?”

Everyone knew Salem was fond of his ex-girlfriend. She was a friend, and everyone needed a support system. That night, after Thaïs went to bed, Salem and Aggie were going out for a few hours. River, who’d never wanted kids of his own, had been eager to stay home and look after her. Kioni kissed Thaïs before removing the diaper bag from her shoulder. “I haven’t been sleeping well. Even when Thaïs isn’t home, I’m too anxious to sleep. I worry that I’m a bad mom.”

Kioni was never afraid to voice her opinions. Salem wasn’t either, and this was probably the underlying reason they had broken up. Thaïs stared at Aggie - she was a baby; she stared at everybody. “You’re a great mom,” said Salem, taking the diaper bag. Bad moms didn’t worry if they were bad moms. Since Thaïs’ birth, Kioni had been attending a weekly mothering class, where she’d already made several friends. Very early that morning, after Salem got off work, he’d had a few friends over to take mushrooms and watch movies. Though he’d invited Aggie to join, she’d had little interest.

Kioni hugged Salem before she left. In the past few weeks, she’d stopped checking in with him so often, and limited herself to only a few messages a day. Like any parent, she worried about the baby, but she trusted Salem, and he was a responsible parent. After watching Kioni drive away, Salem took his daughter inside to be changed, and Aggie followed close behind. Thaïs was three months old. She was still very small, but had begun to gain back her birth weight. Aggie felt awkward stepping in to assist with her, even though nobody minded. Even Kioni had said she was more than happy to have Aggie lend a helping hand.

Salem was twenty nine years old. Recently, he’d purchased an electric motorcycle, and he’d taken to driving it to work when the weather was good. Aggie came along for rides sometimes, and she always made him slow down. Thaïs wore onesies to bed, and slept, at Kioni’s request, in a crib next to Salem’s bed. It was very strange spending so much time around a baby - and, despite never wanting children of her own, Aggie had taken to Thaïs like a moth to a flame. Blodwyn was born when Aggie was six years old. She’d been told by her mother that she was very helpful with her baby sister. She didn’t remember this.

“You’re pretty.”

Aggie spent a lot of time alone. She didn’t mind this, but it was sometimes worrying leaving her alone. She’d insisted they dress up as Emily and Victor from Corpse Bride, and she’d enlisted the help of Briar to put her costume together. She was already dressed, but hadn’t yet done her makeup. Sitting beside Salem on the couch, Aggie fixed her wig. “Thank you.” She didn’t hate compliments. She was uncomfortable by the attention that came with them. Thaïs fell asleep quickly, milk dribbling from her mouth, one chubby arm flopping down against her side. It was a little intimidating to put a small baby to sleep. She had grown a bit since birth, but she was still very small. After placing Thaïs on her back inside her crib, Salem checked the time.

“River will be home in thirty minutes, and then we can get ready and go out. What should we do while we wait?”

Only a few months into their relationship, Aggie fainted outside of the library. Though she’d told Salem all about her disabilities, he worried. If Aggie hadn’t insisted on being alright, she figured he’d probably have taken the day off work. Salem usually worked on Halloween. This week, he’d planned his days off in order to take Aggie out.

The twins were rarely home. They were usually out with friends, and didn’t spend time with one another. It was strange to see identical twins who hated each other. Eve was timid and cautious. Seraphim was blunt and opinionated. Aggie could tell the girls apart by their attitudes, and not much else.

Six months ago, Aggie had sex for the first time. Before this, she’d made Salem disclose details about his sexual past, and he’d been very forthcoming. Aggie knew there were many more people before her - but she’d never cared to know how many, and she could only hope he’d been responsible. It didn’t matter. She’d cum embarrassingly quickly: the first time in her life, a feeling she had no word for until afterwards, when explaining the feeling to Briar.

Aggie seldom smiled or laughed in moments when it was appropriate. Salem couldn’t read her face, and she knew this. “I want to have sex,” she said, blunt as always. There were moments when having no filter was a good thing, and there were times when it was very bad. Aggie didn’t seem to know how to tell the difference. “You can put the bowl of candy out on the doorstep. I like having sex with you.”

She didn’t need to ask him twice. Between sixty hour work weeks and being a parent, Salem had little free time. Sleep when the baby sleeps, everybody said - but that was the only time a person had a chance to get anything done. On the screen of the monitor, Thaïs whimpered and wriggled, and then lapsed back into sleep. There was a crowd of people outside; Salem placed the candy bowl outside before locking the door.

She was in love with him. It had snuck up on her, and then hit her all at once when she least expected it. “I like living with you,” she said. “You make me feel safe. I like your stubble and your piercings. Also, you’re a good dad. In case nobody ever told you.” As a child and teenager, Aggie’s parents rarely told her they were proud of her. As an adult, she often wondered if she’d ever done anything worth being proud of. She kissed with her tongue, removing the elastic from Salem’s hair, letting it fall over his shoulders. She liked his long hair, and wasn’t shy about reminding him. There was noise outside, but both ignored this. Pressing Aggie against the side of the couch, Salem slid a hand up her dress.

Earlier in their relationship, Aggie made a playlist of slow, soothing music - this is what she’d called it, anyway. She liked to play it in times of stress, and to fall asleep, and even during sex, as she found quiet music relaxing. Pressing her face into Salem’s chest, Aggie squeezed her fingers together, the way she always did when she was horny. The baby monitor stood on the coffee table, the screen dark and quiet. Salem used to check on Thaïs constantly, needlessly, many times throughout the night. He wasn’t quite so paranoid now. Aggie lay on her back across the couch, her costume dress having been removed. She had very small breasts, and was insecure about this, but it didn’t matter. Salem kissed her face, whispering into her ear the way she’d said she liked.

“You’re so pretty.”

Kissing was nice, and Salem was good at it. Aggie supposed, with all the years he’d had to fool around, he’d gotten a bit of practice. He held her face in the palms of his hands, making her feel safe and protected. She’d learned over the months that people showed love in different ways: some people gave gifts, some did household tasks, some made time to spend with others. She was horny and high - and these were unfamiliar feelings that she wasn’t upset by. Sometimes, it still seemed strange to Aggie that anybody wanted to have sex with her at all.

The best part of being in a relationship was the comfort. It was rare to meet someone who made Aggie feel so comfortable, so authentic. It was a relief to have the ability to be herself, completely, the way she had never been able to before. Salem’s fingers swept her cheeks, making her feel warm. He had a lip ring and a tongue ring; they tickled her mouth.

She was freckly, bright-eyed, flushed. The living room lights were dim and soft, casting a glow on her skin. She liked to be kissed softly and slowly: on the neck, on the chest, on the arms. “I don’t like being touched,” she said once, “except by you.” He liked to tease: nibbles on her ears and neck, circling her breasts with his tongue, sucking her nipples until her fingers twisted through his. He liked to leave soft kisses down her stomach, pausing only millimetres from her pussy, and then making his way back up. Aggie shut her eyes, letting her hair dangle off the couch. Salem took her breasts in his hands, and her swollen clit in his mouth.

Guys don’t go down on you unless they really like you. Usually, they just want to get off and be done with it.

Briar knew a lot more about the world than Aggie. She knew more about dating, and boys, and being an adult. Without her, Aggie would have no idea what to do with herself. She wore a thin pair of leggings, which didn’t keep her warm in the cold. Before meeting Salem, Aggie had no idea what it felt like to want somebody in an intimate way. She’d felt so alone, so broken, to know she was the only girl in high school who didn’t want to have sex or make out. There was a word for this, Briar had said, when Aggie tried to explain the feeling, You’re a demisexual. You’re not attracted to people sexually until you’re emotionally close with them.

It was warm inside the townhouse. The heater turned on in short intervals, heating the living room. Aggie disliked the heat. In the summertime, she often sat in front of a fan, or took a cold bath. There was a picture in the living room that River had painted of Salem and Thaïs. River was a talented artist, although he’d never believe anyone who told him this.

Aggie grumbled, burying her slender fingers in Salem’s hair. Sometimes, she fainted during sex. Sometimes, she fainted in public. She squirmed, watching him, her glasses crooked on her face. Her pussy was warm and wet, tightening around his fingers. Salem had only recently learned that women could control this.

Always remember, you can withdraw consent at any time. Even if you say yes at first, you’re allowed to change your mind.

Salem always asked for consent. Aggie didn’t understand this at first. Sometimes, Briar said, people who have been taken advantage of in the past try extra hard to ask for permission. “Faster.”

Her eyes were closed, and her face hot. When Aggie came, a red spot appeared up the front of her neck. Flicking his pierced tongue over her swollen clit, Salem stuck another finger inside her pussy. He was gorgeous. Everything he did made her weak.

On the screen of the baby monitor, Thaïs cried in her sleep. It wasn’t rare for the baby to interrupt adult time, but she usually put herself back to sleep before too long.

River rarely came downstairs. He’d hide in his room, listening to loud music while he painted, or he’d leave the house in the middle of the night. Sex was nothing like Aggie had been taught it would be. She’d seen it on television, read it in books - and it was nothing like this.

It was hard to speak when you were about to cum. Salem could always tell when Aggie was close; her hands squeezed him harder, her back arched against the arm of the couch. When a red streak made its way up her neck, Aggie gasped loudly, her legs scooped casually over Salem’s shoulders, trembling. He once told her there was something different about going down on a person you cared about, that it was so much more satisfying than fucking for pleasure.

The night before, River started an argument. He did this a lot, and left everyone around him feeling uneasy. After this, he’d run off somewhere, and he still hadn’t returned. Aggie didn’t fear confrontation, but she disliked it. Since disappearing two weeks ago, Adam’s abduction was reported to the police by his sister, Saphira, who had set up multiple social media accounts to look for him. Salem had too many siblings to keep track of, and he didn’t talk about most of them. At Aggie’s paranoid request, he changed the locks to his house. Jude could be anywhere, and he could sneak up on anybody.