May
Lucy's Age: 3
Now that a month has passed, I feel safe in saying that my efforts to turn the Latin Kings away from the White Tears were successful. There has been some low-level violence along the border that the two gangs share, but nothing like what I'm sure we would have seen without my successful attempt to frame the Red Hand Consortium for the hits on both of the other gangs' holdings.
If all that had come of my frantic work last month was for the Latin Kings not to send in half a dozen real heavies from their regional group to roll through the White Tears, I would have been satisfied, but things are even better than that.
The White Tears and the Latin Kings have pushed the Red Hand out of an entire block, and the fighting was exceptionally bloody. My initial estimates put the Red Hand Consortium as having lost more than forty members just in the last week alone. Losses on the part of the White Tears and the Kings are roughly in line with that, but given that the losses are split between the two gangs, they are in much better shape than Imastious' pets.
Needless to say, the news has gone a long way towards easing my concerns about the White Tears suddenly folding. I got a text about the first of the successful attacks while I was at the park with Lucy and the knowledge that things were improving there allowed me to pass the interminable wait with much more equanimity than I otherwise would have been able to.
Lucy of course had no idea that I'd just pulled off a behind-the-scenes power play that would have done Machiavelli proud, but that too will come eventually. For now it's all I can do to tease a few words out of her from time to time in an effort to try and sidestep the tantrums and tears that are still a regular occurrence.
If the losses sustained by the Red Hand were the high point of the trip for me, the yellow flowers we saw at the park were the high point for Lucy. She still said very little, but every time I looked down at my phone I would invariably look up to find that she'd wandered back over to one of the two gardens that were filled with the same dull yellow flower.
I initially just thought that Lucy was fascinated with flowers in general, but after the sixth time of following her back to the same part of the park I finally realized that she didn't care about any of the other flowers, just this one particular type.
Before the trip, Mrs. Agosti went on and on about Lucy needing a chance to go outside and run around. It turned out that Lucy was absolutely uninterested in doing anything of the sort. I took her to play on the swings, but she just stood next to me and watched the other children.
The large grassy area a few hundred yards from the playground was equally fruitless. I'd finally agreed to Mrs. Agosti's proposed excursion because I'd been hoping that once she was outside Lucy would entertain herself to some extent. It seemed like a chance to multitask on my phone while still putting in my required weekly allotment of time to bond with the child.
I was sadly mistaken as it was all I could do to even pry one hand free from Lucy's chubby fingers so that I could use my phone while we walked around the park. I'm starting to wonder if Lucy is too damaged to serve my purposes down the road.
Unfortunately, I'm currently at a loss with regards to the problem she represents. I've never had occasion to use my mentalist powers to try to actively heal a damaged mind, but in theory that should be possible. Unfortunately that is precluded since I've already established that further manipulation of her thoughts could ruin whatever predisposition towards mentalist abilities she's already shown.
A psychiatrist is likewise out of the question as I can't risk her relating the full story of how she came to live with me.
That reminds me, I need to start collecting the proper fake documents for her. The sooner I start that process the more bulletproof her backstory will be. As long as I'm out shopping, maybe I should see about getting a potted version of that stupid yellow flower from the park.
If it calms her down even just once a week when she'd otherwise cling to me sobbing in despair, then it would be well worth the effort of procuring one.