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The apartment was dark when Bronte finally walked in. Her keys jingled together, and when she finally unlocked the door, she felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. She let out a breath, and stepped in.
Bronte tried to manoeuvre in the dark, but she wasn't doing very good. She somehow made her way over to the kitchen, and flicked the light switch on. Light flooded the room, allowing her to see everything.
Nothing has changed. It was a little surprising, but also calming to know that everything was in the same exact spot as it was back in December. She looked around and saw a note on the refrigerator, most likely from her mom.
At work. Be back soon. Love you, Mom
Bronte scoffed. Nothing's changed.
Her mother was not going to be home tonight. She always says that, but ends up staying to finish anything that was given to her. She was a low-level office manager, meaning that she directed meetings held by people higher up. Her mom handed out water and placed notes where they were needed.
It was a useless job, and Bronte made sure to tell her that. Her mom said that someday it would change and her time would come. She would get a promotion and they would live a better lifestyle. Somewhere far away from Manhattan.
Bronte loved where they lived. She didn't want to move away, especially from her friends.
"One day, we'll get a big house out in the countryside, where no one can get to us. It'll be just you and me. How does that sound?"
A little blonde girl cowered at her mother, moving away and out of her reach. She didn't want to move away. Everything was going to change, and that was the one thing she hated the most.
"No, mommy. I wanna stay here!" she argued, stomping her foot on the ground.
"Bronte, baby, we will have to move at some point. You deserve better. The city is no place for a little girl," she said, tears forming in her eyes.
"I'm not a little girl!" Bronte screamed. "I'm a big, strong girl!"
She flexed her little muscles, but nothing showed. Bronte was only seven years old, and didn't understand what her mother was trying to protect her from.
Between the therapist, changing schools every few months, and seeing a psychiatrist or two, the bills were getting harder and harder to pay. Maria Richards was working double time, with two jobs and it still wasn't enough. She tried to do whatever she could to protect her daughter. If that meant sending her away so they wouldn't catch her scent, then that's what she would do.
"You are such a big girl," Maria cried, reaching out for a hug.
Bronte hesitated, but reluctantly walked over to hug her mom. She didn't know why her mom was crying. She just didn't want to leave her friends.
