Just anther story...

[deini]

I watch her as she stuffs my cloths into a big black bin bag. There is a small rip on the side, and I wonder for a moment weather or not I should tell her about it. But she’s grunting under her breath like one of those angry wild animals from the zoo, her hair is sticking a little to her sweaty forehead, and the muscles in her jaw jumps and twitches.

I think, like always, she’s stressed. I think she doesn’t want to be here. I think she doesn’t like me-then I guess that’s OK cause I think she’s ugly and stupid anyways. I want to shout at her, tell her that I think she’s stupid and ugly, and that she should stop. I want to tell her I don’t want to go, that I’m scared of new places, but I keep perfectly still, and very, verry quiet.

Adult’s never like it when I talk to them, they always hit me, or shout, or ignore me. So I do what I always do-I stare at my foot, and admire my toes inside my crappie brown saddles. I painted them glittery-pink a long time ago, and there is still a little bit of polish left.

I think it still looks pretty.

I want to look pretty for my new foster parents. I hope they don’t notice the rip on my bin bag, or how my hair is dirty, or the purple bruises on my legs, or the stupid freckles on my nose. I hope all they notice is my pretty toes.

Later, when riding in the car my social worker keeps telling me that i should be a good girl, that i should behave and be nice cause the ‘very nice’ people are being very kind to take me into their home. I promise her I would, cause I think it is very nice of them to do that. In my head, I decide I should thank them when i meet them.

I think that would be very polite of me.

I stand behind her, and I look at my toes. There is a man, and a woman and they are smiling at my social worker, they are telling her how happy they are to have me, and she’s smiling at them too. I think she looks like she’s in pain when she smiles, like it’s hard for her, like she never learned how to do it properly. I guess I’m like that too. I want to smile at the really nice people and thank them for being so kind to me, but my heart is beating really fast, and all i can do is stare at my pink polish, and be very, very quiet just like a little mouse.

I’m good at that. I’m good at being like a little mouse.

Later when my social worker goes away, and I sit in the nice people’s car I try to be the best little mouse ever, and I think maybe I can thank them later, later when I’m less scared. They don’t talk to me, they only talk to each other in that way adults do. They say bad words loudly, their faces go red, and their foreheads get sweaty, and they ignore me. I think maybe they are scared too, and that is why they seem so angry and ugly now.

When I see the house I want to smile, cause I think it’s really pretty. It’s bigger than my real home, and it has big, big windows. The lady has this strange shoes that looks like the tiger I saw in the TV. I want to ask her how she made them look like that, or how she makes them do that tock-tock noise. But before I can do that, the front door swings open, and the man shout’s this name out loud-so loud that it makes me jump up.

I stand behind them, and I bite my lips, and I stare at my toes, and I think in my head. ‘Whose James? No one told me about him. Is he nice?...I hope he is...’

[loekie]

I move from the kitchen “WHAT?” I shout back. Why couldn’t they just leave him the fuck alone? I stop dead in my tracks when I see a small girl hovering behind the guy. What the hell was this? What was she doing here? I narrow my eyes but it isn’t long before my suspicions are confirmed.
“Say hi to the new addition to our family” the man smiled “James, this is Clementine, Clementine, this is James” he introduced the two. He just absolutely loved the look of horror spreading across the boy’s face “show her to her room, and then get diner ready” he ordered. I simply nod and move as if on automatic robot. I grab her … bin-bag whiles turning to the small girl, who looked absolutely terrified. What am I to do? I’m so not good at this crap. I sigh. I could hardly keep myself alive in this place, what was I going to do? I turn to the girl.
“Alright then sweetheart” he forced a smile “follow me” he told her as he lead them up the stairs towards the spare room of the house. I wonder how she got here. Had her folks died, or was there something else? Whatever it was, it had her scared half to death and it reminded me of how I’d felt when… damn I so did not want to think about all that.
The pounding on the front-door that had woken me,my mother standing beside the bed as the pounding was now combined with shouts “Open this door!” could be heard from outside the front-door.

“He’s here…” she had stated and I had been confused. Why was she so scared? Sure I knew my father had a temper…. Hell I’d gotten enough beatings to never forget, but he had never really hurt me and he wouldn’t would he?

“OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR” now came louder.

“Come on, got to get you up…” she urged me as she pulled the blankets of off me and pulled me out of the bed as the pounding continued “He’ll think you’re still with your grandparents okay?” she continued “Get under the bed..”

I then had looked back at the door slightly frightened “Let’s go… okay..” she said again now gently turning my head “Listen to mommy. This is really important” she instructed “Get under the bed. Don’t make a sound. Don’t come out, no matter what happens, don’t come out, okay?” she told me, and what else could I do then agree?

I still had not understood, nodded slightly “Okay…” I whispered.

His mother bent down to hug him “I love you…” she whispered.

“I love you too mommy…” I responded still majorly confused.

Then the young woman ushered me under the bed “Let’s go. Down you go.. Alright, be real quiet” she said as she tucked me under the bed. I scrambled and hid all the way inside as she had told me.

She then turned and headed out of the room closing the door. She walked down the stairs and the two shout at each-other.

“Open the fuck up!”

“Stop it…”

“OPEN UP”

There’s smashing against the door and not long after the door smashes open. My mother’s voice became even more agitated “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m calling the police! Get out of here! What are you doing? What the hell are you doing with a god damned gu….”

There’s a loud pang and the sound of something heavy slumping down to the floor. Then everything is quiet until I heard footsteps on the stairs stopping in front of my room. The door slowly opened and two boots could be seen from my view. The man paused before sitting down on the bed, that creaked under his weight. There’s the sound of someone cocking a gun and not long after another loud pang and the body on the bed slouched down, the bed creaking once more. Then there was silence… and I don’t think I had ever been more scared. I shook myself out of the memory and turned my head back to see if the girl had followed me… I opened the door to let her into the room.

[deini]

I think his hair looks like a girls. But he is not like a girl, He is scary like a man. He is tall, and he has big hands, and he looks at me like he doesn’t like me. I wonder if maybe my heart can actually beat too hard and break my chest, or if it could be too fast and then run out of battery.

‘James.’ Yeah. That’s what the nice man called him. He picks-up my big bag with my cloths in it. I stare at the rip on it with big eyes, and I pray to the angels, and ask them not let it rip bigger so that my girl knickers fall out and he sees them. That would be really, really bad.

He stomps up the stairs, and I watch my pink toes as I climb after him. I think that’s what’s I’m supposed to do. I’m good at that too. I’m good at doing what I’m supposed to do. He is quiet like me, but he is not a mouse. I think he is more like the big, big tiger from the TV-like the lady’s shoes. He is scary, and strong, and quiet. And the tiger, like kitty cats, like to eat little mousses like me.

I hope he doesn’t eat me.

I try not to shake, but I do anyways. I think I want to take a pee, but I can’t ask him, I’m too scared to ask him. Tigers are pretty, I know, but never, ever nice. I stand at the door, and I don’t even look up at the room that the nice people gave me.

I bite my lips, cross my legs so I don‘t pee on my knickers, and stay really, really quiet.

[loekie]

I put down the bag with clothes turning towards her. I narrow my eyes slightly. Was the girl actually scared of me? Why? Did I even want to know? All questions that wouldn’t be answered. She looked a bit like a frightened and cornered mouse. I close my eyes for a second. What was I going to say to try and get her to loosen up a bit? She crossed her legs and I smile slightly “the bathroom is just down there sweetheart” I told her whilst pointing in the direction of the room. I could not imagine being so scared. I wonder if she was ever going to speak. Should I make more of an effort? I better let her go first hadn’t I? Ugh, I really was out of my comfort-zone. This was going to be harder that I thought. I sigh slightly running a hand through my hair. I should just let it come as it goes right? Roll with the punches, so to speak. I just could not let her get hurt could I?

I remembered when I first got here, 8 years ago. It had been right after my parent’s funeral and this woman came a told me she had found me a home. I had simply shrugged, what did I care? If I would have known what was in store for me I might had thought differently. Ah well, the beauty of hindsight eh? As soon as I had stepped foot into the house the orders had started, and really they had never stopped. That night though, something weird happened. The woman had come into my room, telling me how she wanted to play a game. It took me quit some time before I learned that the game we played was called sex.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll leave you to get settled” I told her. What else was I to do? Then I quickly made my way back down stairs into the kitchen. I had to get diner ready… and apparently for one more. Not that that bothered me, I simply did as I was told. I’d sneak out tonight and see what this town had to offer at night. I just was not going to spent another night cooped up in the house. I was just going to get completely wasted… then I would not have to think of all this crap, at least for tonight. When diner was ready it was consumed in silence… mostly anyway, and it was time to clean up the mess, as always not good enough though and when I ‘retreated’ to my room I pulled of my shirt and went to wash the dried blood from my face and torso. Would this ever stop? I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and grumble, disgusted. I put on a clean shirt and let myself fall onto the bed exhausted and just stared up at the ceiling deep in thought… I just realized that this was just the way things were, and no matter what I did was going to change that. I rub my throbbing temples and I stared at the window where I’d be disappearing through later on tonight….

[deini]

When he leaves me, I tip-toe to my door, stick my head out quickly to see him throttle down the stairs. I guess he is a nice tiger. He did call me ‘sweetheart’-I think that means I have a heart that tastes like sugar, and that to me sounds nice and makes me think of powder-puff girls. Besides I know that tigers don’t like to eat sweets-the TV said so.

I stay there for a little bit, then I count to ten and run as fast as my feet can take me to the toilet. After I pee very carefully, and use just a little bit of the nice people’s toilet paper. I run back to my room and sit on my bed. I wait there until dinner.

Dinner is good. It taste nicer than all the foods I had before. Tiger made it, I saw him put in the plates, and I think it was his voice that called me to come down to eat. The woman and the man don’t say much to me, but the say lots to ‘tiger’ though. They shout, and growl and call him bad names.

They say his food is bad. I don’t agree, and I want to tell them that is not true cause I like it a lot. I ate all that was on my plate, didn‘t leave not even a little bit. Then, before I can say anything, tiger tells me to go to my room in this strong, strange sounding voice that reminds me of a lion’s roar.

I never been so scared in my life. I run, then I trip and scrape my knee on the carpet, get up quickly and run up the stairs really, really fast. I don’t look back when I hear the shouting, or the sounds of hurting, or things breaking. No, I don’t listen, I sit in my bed and I stare at my bloody knees.

They hurt. But I think ‘tiger’ is hurting too. It sounded like he got hurt. I think, maybe, I should go see, and maybe thank him for having me in his house. Tell him that his food is very nice too., and that I liked it a awful lot. Yeah. I think that would be polite of me. I think that would make him feel better.

I knock on the door. I don’t think it’s loud enough, but I hope he hears it. I hope he opens the door before I get too scared and run back to my room. I’m shaking again, and I want to hide. Still, I stay there, I try to be brave, I try to smile and I think of the words I would say.

I hope he don’t notice my hurt knee. I hope he notices my pink toes instead.

[loekie]

I put my hands behind my head maybe I shouldn’t have yelled at the girl like that I think I scared her even more. I just had t get her out of there didn’t I?
I’m tired, and my eyes drift close for a moment. I stifle a yawn. Then there is a knock on the door, so soft I almost missed it. I frowned rising to my feet, walking to the door. It wasn’t Frank or that damn woman, and since there was only one other person in the house. I open the door wondering what it could be she wanted. When he opened the door, sure enough there was the girl. I frowned slightly “everything alright sugar-pop?” I ask as I watch the frightened, trembling little thing before me stepping aside as I notice the scraped knees. I knelt down before her “sit down sweetheart” I tell her pointing to the bed. I know she probably didn’t want me to see her injuries, but it needed to be cleaned right? I sigh inwardly, I’m not a freaking nurse now am I? I grab a clean cloth and, as gentle as I could got to work on the girl’s knees. Then I notice her nails, and how they still have a bit of pink on them. I smile slightly “well, isn’t that pretty” I commented as I finished. I really don’t know what on earth I’m doing here. But then again… did it even matter? The poor girl was screwed anyway wasn’t she?
This was not the moment for philosophy I reprimand myself I just hoped he hadn’t freaked her out too much. She could use all the help she could get… ah well I’d just jump of that bridge when I come to it. I rise to my feet “All done sugar-pop” I smile as I keep my eye on her.

[deini]

Yup. I’ve made my mind up. He is a nice tiger.

He called me sugar-pop now. I think this tiger likes sweet things, and I decide maybe I’m sweet. I hope that’s in a good way. In a way that makes me sweet like a nice normal little girl, like the ones that I see in the park with their mommy. Not the sweet that makes daddies touch you in your lady bits.

The social worker lady told me that what daddy did to me was bad to do. That my daddy should have never touched me there, or hurt me there. She said he was a bad man, that he was ‘sick’, and that he went to a place that was made for 'men' like him. That I was safe now, and that I had done nothing wrong. That it was all dadies fault. Not mine.

I remember thinking, 'but I didn’t do nothing wrong.' I wanted to tell her that I did everything right, just as daddy said I should. I stayed very, very still, and I stayed very , very quiet. I never cried that much, I never told anybody anything. Just daddy and me knew about it, cause that’s how it was meant to be, that was how daddies loved their little girls. I was good, I did good. I know this cause Daddy told me so.

He said I was a nice girl. A good girl. That I was a sweet girl.

I never told her that. I guess, maybe, I did bad. Maybe I forgot something and daddy went away, and now he doen’t love me anymore. Now…I’m here with Tiger. I look at my toes, and I try not to flinch, or cry, or make any noises when tiger cleans my cut. I don’t want him to do it, but daddy told me that I should be good, and always let the ‘guys’ play with me.

I look at tiger’s face. He has a pretty one I think. He looks a bit like the prince charming I saw in the movie on the TV. I wonder if he really is a prince, and is just pretending to be a tiger, like I do sometimes- I pretend to be a princess when I’m really a mouse.

I notice the blue mark on his cheek, and I know how he got it, cause I got one that looks just the same in my belly. I look away and bite my lip. It’s rude to stare, and cause I don’t like people to look at my hurt, I think maybe he feels the same about his hurt.

Then, he looks at my toes, and he says they are pretty. I’m so happy I wiggle them and smile. I smile correctly-Not the fake one that daddy told me to do, or the one that the social worker lady uses. This smile is true, and honest, and I mean it with my whole sugar heart.

“I-I” I forgot the words I was meant to say, and I remember what the fat black lady on TV said. She said sometimes actions are better than words. I jump up, and sway my hips a little from side to side, cause I’m shy. “Can I tell you a secret?”

I stare up at him with big eyes, and hope he lets me whisper it in his ear.

[loekie]

I notice her staring at my face and I know that it’s bruised from the ‘fight’ down stairs. I know that they have all classes me as a troubled teen. A rebel that is just acting out, getting in trouble, fights, you name it. He remembered how he had his friends had once ‘borrowed’ a neighbors car. It had been an amazing night, there had been booze and drugs and it had been ever so much fun. Until the cops came that is. It had cause a lot of problems, and I had ended up in the hospital with a severe concussion. That had been awful. If there is anything I hate, it’s hospitals. They are suffocating and the being confined to bed was just horrid. I had been there for about a week before I had been allowed to leave with the promise I’d take it easy. I’d almost burst out laughing. Take it easy? Yeah right, like that was ever going to happen. He couldn’t tell his doctor know though… that would have not been right.
The girl smiles back and wiggles her toes. Okay, so that had been a right move. HE frowned as she wanted to tell him a secret. That he shrugged and leant closer “What secret is that then sweetness?” I ask now low enough for her to whisper in my ear should she whish. She still seems scared though and I’m curious as to what the secret could be? I guess I’ll find out soon enough if she still wants to tell me of course. I know how sometimes one just needs to have ones secret. Really secret and he wondered what could be the little girl’s secret. He could make a guess and he would probably be right, but he would not know for sure.
I’m patient and just for her to gather her nerve and see if she dares talking to me at the moment. I just give her an encouraging smile. He sighed inwardly. have no clue as to what it was he was to do. Maybe it would be best to talk to someone now that the girl’s life was on the line as well. He sighed. That would be a hard decision. He smiled down at the girl inwardly cursing the man that had ruined his life.

As she stares up at me with big eyes I can't help but wonder what her next move might be

[deini]

He smells like cigarettes, and they remind me of daddy. He smoked too, and he smelled like that. But tiger is a bit different, there is something nice about his stinky. Still, it scares me a little bit. I’m not sure if it was a good Idea to want to make him feel better.

Maybe I should run out. Maybe I could be faster than him. Is the mouse faster than the tiger? I need to find that out, so I can be sure, sure. I bite my lip, and I blink once, then twice, and then one more time.

He has a pretty hair, and its better than mine I think. Mine is blond, but it’s not a shinny or as golden this close up. I want to touch it really badly but I don’t think I’m allowed. I don’t want to ask either. He might shout , or hit me, or punish me.

I try to concentrate in getting all my courage, all the courage in the whole wide world- I want to be as brave as Buffy from TV. I puff up my chest. I take a humongous deep breath....

I plant a kiss square on his cheek, on the purple bit.

My heart is beating really fast, and loud. I hope he can’t hear it. I don’t want him to know I’m scared-so I smile and say as quickly as I can.

‘A kiss always makes the hurt go away faster.’

[loekie]

I can just feel the fear radiating of off her. I don’t understand, but then again, I wasn’t a little girl being dropped into one hell of a disfunctional family. I looked at the girl as she was about to do… what? tell me something? I was not expecting her next move. She just gave me a kiss and I on my cheek and I smile brushing some hair out of her face “what was that for sweetheart?” I ask gently. I have to say that after eight years of the crap these two put me through, it felt nice to have someone be nice to me, even though she was scared. I sit down on the bed and lean against the wall “it’s alright princess” I try and assure her, but I have no idea whether it had any affect whatsoever. I just was not good at this, and I don’t think I ever would be. I just never really had any practise. I had spent a lot of time and effort in pushing everybody away. Keeping them at a distance. The teachers either thought I was an annoying rebel, they just couldn’t really say anything since, for some reason always seemed to be getting A + ses, then there was social services who had simply classed me as a troubled teen and well they were right I suppose, but could one blame really blame me?

I know I got into a lot of trouble, skipping class, getting into fights, drugs, police… but I just couldn’t be bothered with school, and as the rest is concerned, excuse me for needing an outlet? Sometimes I just needed to get my mind of things, was that really so bad? I guess that didn’t matter. It was just the way things were and there was nothing I could do about it. At least I might be able to keep the girl from getting hurt…

I watched the girl for a moment wondering what was going through her mind. Why was she so scared? Had she already been into fostercare, or had her parents just died, or been arrested? I knew it was none of my business though and I would just have to see if she would, at some point trust me enough to talk to me...