You were a child when you first saw her; that woman. You didn't know that you would see her again, and again... you didn't know who she was; what she was. Neither did you know all the darkness she would bring, nor all the pleasure, nor all the warmt...
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The first time you saw her, you must've been around age four. You only saw her for a moment, but that was enough to quit your crying. Something about her was soothing enough to stop.
A faint warmth invaded you slowly enough not to frighten you. The pain was less.
It hadn't been the first time your mom had struck you, and you doubted it was going to be the last.
You had been very lonely that day. Playing all by yourself, as usual. So when mom came home, you ran to her feet and held onto her skirt tightly. It almost made her trip—grocery bags falling, eggs cracking...
She was furious as she slapped you to the floor. And even more so, as she kicked you while you were lying there, shocked.
"Stupid little shit, why can't you behave? Do you know how much food costs?" She didn't pause the beating. "If you keep being so careless I might as well sell you to the highest bidder you ungrateful little bitch."
She had her angry moments. Usually, after yelling and punching you around, she would calm down, cry, apologize, and treat you kinder.
Money.
You realized.
Mommy is so angry because of money.
If only she had more...
That's what you understood.
"Mommy stop!" You cried. "It hurts, mommy. It hurts. Please, I'm-"
You were now being whipped by what seemed to be one of her pretty necklaces.
"Shut up, brat- SHUT THE FUCK UP-" She yelled.
"Please!" You yelped in pain.
You wanted someone to stop her, someone to hug you, someone to protect you.
You made yourself tiny, hugging your legs and bending your knees up to your chest. There was an intense moment where you could have sworn something in the house broke, like glass.
Bones?
You thought. You saw it on TV. Bones could crack.
You were scared as you felt it. Someone was there. Someone new.
You were afraid to look up, you didn't want Mom to slap your face again.
Yet, you felt something...
You had to look up.
And there was a woman at the end of the room. Tall, blue eyes —or were they green?—She wore a hat. A hat—usually worn by boys—. You had seen cartoons with similar ones, but they were always all boys.
She seemed surprised; lost. She turned to see you and you felt as if you wanted to run away. She smiled and it scared you, but at the same time, you wanted to run to her, to run to her arms so she could take you away.
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