Charity Case (Scarlett Johansson)

4

I quickly head back upstairs as quietly as possible not wanting to interrupt the family reunion downstairs and to be honest I would rather deal with my bubbling emotions alone instead of putting on a facade. I close my new bedroom door and sigh. 

I'm feeling many different emotions currently and I just want to numb them all but at the same time when I'm numb, all I crave is to feel. It's a constant battle I'm living and I'm unsure how I'm still surviving. What I do know, is that I need to analyze exactly what I'm feeling so I can decide if I like it or not. 

Most likely not. 

I get my journal and pen that was still hiding in my backpack, I get in bed resting my back on the headboard and covering my lap with the duvet before I pull my knees to my chest. I open my journal to a new blank page as I rest it on my knees and I start writing anything and everything that comes into my mind. 

Damn, the last 36 hours have been a blur and I'm not entirely sure if this is even my new reality or if it's all just some fever dream. I went from being an orphan to having a family ... with my actual biological mom who already had her own little family. What even is life? Here I am sitting on my new bed, in my new bedroom, in my new home, with my new family, and I'm supposed to be ecstatic? I feel everything but. 

I don't want to sound like an ungrateful bitch because I should be grateful, I am grateful, but maybe my 'mom' taking me back under her care is what's hindering me from actually being happy. I mean really though, how could I? She gives birth to me, decides that I wouldn't be good for her since she was still so young, gives me away but continues to keep track of me, create a life for herself, get pregnant, decides to keep her second daughter, and start a new family all the while knowing that she has another daughter in an orphanage. Please tell me exactly how I'm supposed to feel about that when I have been stuck in a care home, bounced from house to house, abused, and used as if I'm some piece of junk that no one seems to want. 

I am so angry at her for being so damn selfish. I am so angry at her for keeping track of me after she decides to give me away. I am so angry at myself for making myself known to her. I am so angry at her for taking me back. 

But what angers me the most is the fact that I'm angry about all those things because I don't want to be. 

I don't want to be angry at her. I want to be at least okay with her, I want to find myself trusting her and accepting her as my mom but I just can't seem to allow myself to do that. Maybe it's because I'm scared that one day she'll wake up and realize how much of a fuck up I actually really am and decides to give me away once again. 

I'm scared that she'll see me like how I see myself. I'm scared she'll see me like how everyone else sees me. 

A fuck up. 

A piece of shit. 

A waste of space. 

It was painful to know that my biological mother probably saw me that way from the moment I was born which made her decide to give me away. But if she sees that again and gives me away for a second time, I think I might just finally break. 

I want to be loved how a daughter is supposed to be loved. Is that too much to ask? 

I was about to start a new sentence when a knock on my door interrupts me. I quickly wipe the few tears that made their way down my cheeks. "Come in." 

The door slowly opens and I see Scarlett standing there when the crack of the door was open wide enough, "hey I was waiting for you downstairs, I made us some late lunch."

"Oh sorry, I'll be right down," I said quietly looking at her. I cursed at myself for sounding so weak and I cursed at myself, even more, when I see her frown because of my voice. 

I watch as she moves further into my room and sits on the edge of my bed facing her body towards me and respectfully leaving some space between us. "Honey, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" I frown at her words, how can she tell that I was crying? She answers my question by wiping, what I assume to be a tear, my cheek. 

I flinch slightly when her finger made contact with my cheek, partially because I wasn't expecting that and partially because I don't really like to be touched. 

I close my journal leaving my pen inside of it, "nothing just tired I guess." 

"Please don't do that," she says as she puts both her hands on her lap. 

"Don't do what Scarlett?"

"Don't shut me out," I look into her eyes and I can immediately tell that this was tearing her apart as much as me but I just can't. I can't let my walls down, especially to her. I refuse. 

"And why do you think I do Scarlett?" She looks down at her lap before swallowing a lump in her throat. "That's what I thought," I whisper. 

I get up from my bed leaving the journal on it knowing Scarlett wouldn't dare to read it and make my way towards the door. 

"Mac, I'm-" I turn to her and cut her off knowing exactly what she was about to say. "Don't apologize because I won't accept it. I don't believe it and I'm done hearing it." 

She gets up and makes her way in front of me, she looks me in the eyes and says, "then I'll just have to show you how much I regret what I did." 

With that, I turned back around and finally made my way out of the room and down the stairs to eat my well-overdue lunch.