Zip has it bad.
Nine years old, and she seems to have more and more anxiety each time there’s a thunderstorm.
The drugs aren’t a solution – she gets so messed up.
Placing a hand on her – holding her – seems to help, as does the fake thundershirt. But she is so trapped in that deep personal hell, no matter what we do.
Poor Zip. Poor us. She just needs someone to hold her the entire time.
So-k. Family is family. We do what we have to do.