KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 15
(Autistic author)
Hanna's screen
filled with a mix of
shock and empathy.
"I had no idea," she
says, her voice a
whisper. "How can I
help?"
Plankton's antennae
twitch, his voice
laced with sarcasm.
"Oh, it's simple," he says,
his tone biting. "Just don't
make jokes about
Karen or brain damage!"
Hanna's screen burn
with embarrassment, her
eyes wide with shock.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't
know," she whispers, her
hands trembling.
Plankton's eye is still
glaring. "It's not
to hard to understand,"
he says, his voice a knife.
"If Hanna just took the
time to learn."
Hanna nods, her
screen a mask of regret.
"What do
you need?"
Plankton's antennae
slow, his eye focusing
on Karen's worried screen.
He takes a deep breath,
his words coming out
slowly, as if each one
was a step through a
difficult maze. "Quiet,"
he whispers. "Space."
Hanna nods, her own
eyes filling with tears.
"I'll give you space,"
she says, her voice
quivering with apology.
Karen's eyes never
leave Plankton's as Hanna
quietly leaves the room.
The silence is a balm
to Plankton's overstimulated
mind, and he sighs
in relief, his antennae
stilling. "Thanks, Karen,"
he whispers, his voice
a soft echo of his earlier
rage.
"It's okay," Karen says,
her voice a gentle
lullaby. She strokes his
back, her touch a
comforting rhythm in
his chaotic world. "We'll
get through this."
Plankton's antennae
twitch in response,
his body slowly
unwinding from the
coil of his anger. "But
Hanna..."
Karen nods, her screen
filled with empathy.
"I know, love," she
whispers. "But she
just doesn't know
what it's like."
Plankton's antennae
wave slowly, his
understanding of
Hanna's ignorance
gradually replacing
his anger.
"It's okay, Plankton,"
Karen says, her voice
a soft breeze in the
storm of his emotions.
"We'll explain to her.
Everyone deserves a chance
to learn."
Plankton nods slowly,
his antennae still, his
body a tightly coiled
spring. "Karen is right,"
he murmurs, his voice
a whisper. "But Plankton
scared she won't understand."
Karen's hand
continues to stroke his
back, her screen filled
with love. "We'll
make sure she does,"
she says, her voice a
promise.
Plankton's body
begins to relax, his
antennas slowing their
frantic dance. He knows
Karen will protect him,
explain him.
His eye flutters closed,
his breathing shallow, as
Karen's gentle strokes
calm the tempest in
his mind. The room
around them seems to
hold its breath, the
silence a stark contrast
to the storm of moments
before. Slowly, his antennae
uncoil, his body
relaxing into her embrace.
The world around him
becomes a blur of colors,
his senses dimming as
his brain seeks the
solace of sleep.
Karen watches him
with a mix of love and
worry, her hand gently
stroking his antennae.
She knows his mind is a
whirlwind, even in rest.
His breathing slows,
his body going limp in
her embrace. The room
around them seems to
quiet, the chaos of the
day fading into the
background as sleep
claims him.
Karen knows he's fallen
asleep by the steady rise
and fall of his chest,
his antennae no longer
twitching. She carefully
moves him to their bed,
his body a delicate
weight in her arms.
The room is a sanctuary
of softness, the light
filtering through
the curtains like a gentle
caress. She pulls the blankets
up to his chin, tucking
them in just right, her
movements precise and
methodical.
His antennae twitch
slightly in his sleep,
his body a silent testament
to the tumult of
his day. She watches
his chest rise and fall,
his breaths even and deep.
The tension in the
air dissipates as his
body relaxes further.
Hanna's waiting out by the
bedroom door, concerned
as Karen opens the door.
"Is he okay?" Hanna whispers.
Her eyes are red, and her
screen wet with tears.
"I didn't know, Karen. I'm so
sorry."
Karen nods, her
own eyes filled with
moisture. "He's asleep now,"
she says, her voice
barely audible. "It's the
best thing for him."
Hanna's gaze follows
Karen's to the bed,
where Plankton lies
still as a statue, his antennae
at rest against the
pillow.
"It's okay," Karen says,
her voice a gentle
whisper. "We all make
mistakes."
Hanna nods, her
screen never leaving
Plankton's sleeping form.
"But I hurt him,"
she says, her voice
haunted.
Karen sighs, her
hand on Hanna's shoulder.
"You didn't mean to,"
she says, her voice
filled with compassion.
"And now you know."
Hanna nods, her
screen still on Plankton.
"But what can I do
now?" she asks,
desperation in her
voice.
Karen looks at her
friend, her gaze
thoughtful. "Just be
patient with him," she
whispers. "Learn about
his condition. And
apologize when he wakes
up."
Hanna nods, her
expression solemn. "I
will," she says.
Karen smiles, a
thankful light in her
screen. "Good," she
whispers. "Now, let's
let him rest."
They both slip out
of the room, leaving
the door ajar to
allow the soft light
from the hallway to
spill into the bedroom.
Hanna looks down
at the floor. "I'm
so sorry, Karen," she
says, her voice low.
"It's okay, Hanna,"
Karen responds, her
tone a gentle reprimand.
"We're all learning
how to navigate
this new reality."
Eventually, Plankton comes
out after a little while, now
awake. Karen and Hanna
are both sitting together.
"I'm sorry," Hanna whispers,
her screen downcast.
Plankton's antennae
twitch with uncertainty.
He doesn't remember
falling asleep, or Hanna
leaving. He just knows
his mind was a tornado
of anger and pain.
Karen's voice is
a gentle guide, leading
him back to the
present. "You had a
bad shutdown," she says,
her screen filled with
love and concern. "It's
okay to feel upset."
Plankton nods, his
antennas drooping.
He looks at Hanna,
his eye filled with
uncertainty. "It's not
easy," he whispers,
his voice a soft
admission.
Hanna looks up, her
eyes meeting his. "I know,"
she says, her voice
sincere. "But I'm here
for you both."
Plankton's antennae
wave slightly, a
sign of his internal
debate. "Hanna hurt
Plankton," he says,
his voice a monotone.
Hanna nods, her screen
filled with regret.
"I know," she whispers.
"And I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to."
Plankton's antennae
lift slightly, his
body uncoiling from
his protective stance.
He takes a step
towards her, his
movement tentative.
"Hanna can learn,"
he murmurs, his voice
still tight with
emotion.
Hanna's eyes
brighten with hope.
"I want to learn,"
she says, her voice
eager. "I want to be
a good friend to
both of you."
Karen smiles,
her screen shining with
gratitude. "That's
all we can ask for,"
she says, her voice
a gentle caress.