The Girl in the Crayon Drawing
Author's Note
Yeah, this is my shortest one yet, but it is a little talk that Sour Sweet would have to share with her daughter eventually.
When Sour Sweet's dialogue is presented in plain type she's normal... that is all 
The Girl in the Crayon Drawing
Bitter Skywalker gripped her lightsaber tighter as she waded through the swamplands of Mimban. The sun of this wet hell was completely cloud-masked thanks to the fog. Her weapon has her only source of illumination.
Instantly, her legs halted.
“Something blacker than night stirs the Force,” Bitter Skywalker uttered to herself.
"Jedi."
Bitter whipped her head up to see an imposing figure standing atop some ancient ruins. The dreaded Sith Lord, Darth Gretchen!
"What have you done with my best friend, Darth Gretchen?" Bitter Skywalker demanded.
"Your mother never told you what happened to your best friend," Darth Gretchen noted.
Bitter Skywalker lifted her lightsaber for battle. "She told me enough. She told me you took her away."
"No, Bitter. I AM your best friend!"
"No! That's not true! That's impossible!"
"Join me and together we can rule your living room as awesome chick and weirdo."
"I'LL NEVER JOIN – Hey! Which one of us is the 'weirdo'?!"
"Duh, you are," Gretchen mocked as she jumped down off the couch and whacked Bitter Honey in the side of the head with her small, toy lightsaber.
Bitter returned the favor by clubbing Gretchen's head with hers. The two four-year-olds began hitting each other with their toys as hard as their little arms could muster (which wasn't much). A chorus of "Ow!"s began to fill the living room.
"Hey, hey! Do we hear roughhousing in there?!" Sour Sweet called from the kitchen.
"No!" the two girls called in unison as they hid their lightsabers behind their backs.
"We better not!" Gilda called.
Bitter and Gretchen stood silently for a moment, waiting for their mothers' attention to shift back to their chat so that they could resume their play. Gretchen then looked over to spot Bitter's left hand twitching. It was something she did every once in a while. Of course, Bitter often wouldn't notice that she was even doing it. It was among the reasons Gretchen would tease her for being "weird".
She quickly took a cheap shot and bopped the back of Bitter's head with her lightsaber. "That's one for twitching!"
Bitter grinned. "You're going to get it, now!"
The two girls threw down their toys and began chasing each other around the house. Eventually, Gretchen ran into Bitter's parents' bedroom. She had already climbed up onto the bed when Bitter caught up.
"Hey, Gretchen, we're not supposed to play in here."
"Do you always follow the rules?" Gretchen giggled as she began jumping. "Come on up!"
Bitter hesitated with the worry of getting into trouble. However, as she watched how much fun her best friend was having bouncing around, she began to relent. Finally, she caved. She climbed up and giggly joined her best friend's jumping.
After a moment, Gretchen looked around the room and noticed something. "Hey, Bitter?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you draw that picture on the wall?"
She looked where Gretchen was pointing. There hung up was a framed piece of paper with a crude crayon drawing of what looked to be a little girl.
Bitter had recently begun to demonstrate some impressive artistic skills for her age. She was not quite at the caliber to be labelled an "art prodigy", but it was enough for her parents and other adults to be genuinely impressed. The recognition was also enough for Bitter to start developing a bit of an ego.
"No way! I draw better than that," Bitter laughed.
"You know, it kind of looks like you," Gretchen observed.
Bitter halted her jumping and stared closely at it. Now that it was pointed out to her, the drawing did look like her a bit. She had never noticed the similarity before in all the times that she had been in her parents' room. There was the same hair with the same buns, same yellow skin, and the same freckles. It could be her mother, but then again...
"Gretchen! Time to go!"
"Coming mama!" Gretchen called as she jumped down from the bed.
Bitter continued to study the crayon drawing for another second before jumping down herself to see her friend off. Her mother, Gilda, and Gretchen were by the front door when she ran up.
"Thanks for the coffee," Gilda expressed as she and Sour Sweet shared a friendly hug. "We'll see you later."
Following the mothers' example, Bitter went over and hugged Gretchen. "Bye, Gretchen."
Gretchen rolled her eyes and just patted her on the back. "Bye, you weirdo."
Bitter smirked and quickly kissed her on the cheek. "Love you!"
"Ew, gross!" Gretchen shouted as she tried to rub her cheek off. "You don't help your case doing stuff like that, you know!"
Sour and Gilda laughed at their girls' antics. Gilda then took Gretchen's hand and walked her out the door. Sour was about to go off before Bitter tugged at her pant leg.
"Mama, can I ask you a question?"
Sour smiled and crouched down to her eyelevel. "What is it, Bitter?"
"Who is that girl in that crayon picture on the wall in your room?"
Sour's face blanked. For a second, Bitter became worried that she had made her mother mad. Finally, Sour gave her daughter a warm smile and took her within her arms. She carried Bitter into her room and sat down on the bed, placing the little one onto her lap. They were both facing the framed picture in question.
"You see, Bitter, the girl in the crayon drawing is you. I drew her years before you were even born."
"But how could you draw me before I was born, mama?"
"I know this may be hard to understand, but your mama has what's called a mental condition. Its name is schizophrenia."
Bitter's face scrunched up with concentration as she attempted to sound out the new word, "'Schee-zo-fren-ee-uh'?"
Sour nodded. "It can be a very scary thing. You can think things that aren't real, you can hear things that aren't real, and you can see things that aren't real."
"What kind of things have you seen and heard?"
Sour cringed. There was no way she was going to tell her impressionable four-year-old all the horrific and disgusting experiences that she went through. Especially not the time that she was in the shower when the zombie old woman abruptly appeared and started screeching right in her face. That would surely make Bitter's stubbornness to obey her bath time even worse...
"Um... until you're older, sweetheart, I'm just going tell you about the one morning where I didn't have my medicine which keeps most of those unreal things away. I ended up seeing this little girl. She wasn't real, but I thought she was. I thought that she was my daughter and I thought that I knew her name."
"She was just like me?"
Sour kissed her forehead. "Exactly like you. Well, there's one difference, actually. You're a much better artist. All that this girl could muster were stick figures. At least it makes the whole hallucination a little less creepy knowing that it did get one prediction wrong."
Bitter giggled.
"Yes, we played all morning long and drew pictures together. Of course, I ended up getting more medicine and then I couldn't see her anymore. It broke my heart."
"I'm sorry that she went away, mama."
"But she came back," Sour declared, beaming. "Just as I knew she would. When I found out that I was pregnant, I instantly kissed your daddy and told him, 'It's her'." She chuckled. "It seems crazy, but once you see a classmate turn into a raging she-demon and the world around you start to literally shatter, it's kind of hard not to genuinely believe anything is possible."
Bitter tilted her head at that last bit. "What?"
Sour shook her head. "Oh sorry, that's another story for another time."
"Do you still see and hear things that aren't real?"
"I haven't for a long time now." Sour then sighed. "Although, there's always a chance for what's called a relapse where I can have those bad things happen to me again."
Bitter smiled. "I'll take care of you if they do, mama."
Sour lovingly stroked her daughter's cheek. "You always have. In fact, that day when I saw you made me realize how good with children I could be. Add in the time that I felt the genuine kindness and love when I received first aid from Fluttershy and your daddy after that fight with Gilda – "
Bitter suddenly gasped. "You had a fight with Gretchen's mama?!"
Sour grew a sheepish smile. "Mothers have their own days of roughhousing, too. Anyway, I eventually realized how much I would like to help others, particularly little ones, so into pediatrics I went. It's funny how life works out, you know?"
"Do you think my life will work out funny, too, mama?"
Sour chuckled as she booped her daughter's nose. "As long as it's the good kind of funny, I hope so, Bitter."
As soon as those words came out, Sour's eyes suddenly landed on a twitch commencing from Bitter's hand. A cold chill ran down her spine. Her eyes returned back up to Bitter's face. Her innocent smile was almost enough to melt away any lingering paranoia. Still, she knew that she couldn't allow her motherly bias override her medical training... not to mention her own personal experience.
"I really hope so..." Sour whispered.
"Hey, mama? If you want, I can teach you how to draw better. I can help you make way better pictures of me than that one."
Sour blinked, but then laughed. She could be embarrassed by her own four-year-old daughter essentially telling her how terrible at drawing she was, but she wouldn't allow herself. Bitter was just being the helpful, sweet little angel that she was.
"You could help me draw better pictures of you, but none of them would ever replace that one," Sour Sweet expressed as she gave Bitter Honey a tight hug. "That one will always be the closest to my heart."
THE END
