Mommy

Chapter 1: Meet Mommy

Her hands were so very cold.

My new, adoptive mother held my hand firmly as she spoke with my former caretaker, laughing and chatting on about a topic didn't care for. She was a pretty woman; slim, tall, thin brown hair that stopped at her chin, blue eyes, and a deep burgundy swab of thick lipstick on her small lips.

She smelled profusely of cigarette smoke.

The times she came here, that's all could smell. I'd often try to escape the woman, the smell suffocating me, enveloping me in a cloud that choked me and surrounded me for hours. I hated the stench, and now that I will be living with it every day, wouldn't doubt that I would lose all sense of smell by the end of the month..

She said she loved me.

I've been to a few foster homes before, but no one had ever taken enough interest to adopt me. The lady that takes care of all the orphaned children told me clearly that should be very, very thankful-and that should feel like the luckiest girl in the world now that I've been chosen by my new mother. But no matter how many times forced a smile and imagined all the good things that would come out of this, didn't feel very thankful.

Honestly, felt bad about my ungratefulness. know should be happy, and know should be very grateful for being brought into a new family-but something didn't feel right to me. Only a few days ago, my caregiver caught onto my nervous behavior and pushed it aside with a laugh.

"Don't worry Harper. Living with someone new always give you this yucky feeling in your stomach, right? It will go away soon-once you get used to her. You'll see."

I nodded my head and smiled, although distinctly remember the yucky feeling growing, and the fact that my foster parents haven't

I nodded my head and smiled, although distinctly remember the yucky feeling growing, and the fact that my foster parents haven't made me this nervous before. But that lady has done this plenty of times before, so she must know what she's talking about.

She led me out to her car. It was like one of those red cars always saw on the TV during commercials, but a lot older-and much more dirty. The familiarity was nice, and let out a nervous breath. Be thankful.

I pulled open the back door to see stacks upon stacks of trash and clothes layered in the back two rows. My eyes watered as the dirt particles swam in my vision. This car must have not been opened for a while. The clear fingerprints left in the dust on the door handle only proved my point.

The scent of tobacco and alcohol hit me, running down my throat and making me gag. My eyes watered, but blinked away in initial disgust as the woman neared. She pushed her way beside me, snatching and throwing my single pink suitcase in the back and slamming the door. I nearly dodged the quick movement, and a flurry of dust flew in my face. I began to cough.

"Sit in the front," she stated sweetly, although a hint of impatience rang in her tone.

"And whenever we pass any police. You know, those guys who catch the bad guys and have those cars with the loud sirens. They go wee woo-wee-woo- you know those ones?" she smiled cheerfully, waving her finger around, treating me as though was an infant. kept silent, although made it clear I was listening.

Be thankful.

"Whenever you see one of those, you have to duck down okay? The police don't like it when a little girl like you is sitting in the front by Mommy."

Mommy...

I hadn't called a woman 'mommy' since, well, as far as could remember. I wasn't acquainted with my parents, and the foster ones that just insisted on me referring to them as 'Mom' or 'Dad' (although they never intended to become mine) would only receive a shrug and a glance. Maybe the fact that hadn't spoke since I was four might have been a part of it as well.