Twisted - Act 1

October 12th 1999. New Orleans.

What is the right time limit for waiting for someone to come?

A day? A week? A month? A year?

Chlea had been waiting for almost a year, and no one had come to save her.

At this rate, no one would probably come for her. They would have come before waiting a year to save her if they wanted to come. Grandpa wouldn't have let her live with aunt Brie if he had cared for her.

During mom's stay at the hospital, Chlea had been waiting for grandpa's arrival with bathed breath. Even though she was only nine, Chlea knew that mom's time was about to end. Her body was growing increasingly frail each day, and her voice and breath started to fade with each passing minute. But even though, Chlea called her the worst of days, grandpa didn't come for her.

The only thing Chlea had was Aunt Brie, who came to stay with her during mom's stay at the hospital. But aunt Brie never cared about her or her mom. Every day, she would drop Chlea off at the hospital door and drive off with a man until midnight, and she got to pick up Chlea again. The school tried calling to ask about her absences, but aunt Brie wouldn't bother sending her off to the bus stop and picking her up at the hospital, so she went straight from home every day.

Chlea stayed at the hospital for a week, from morning to midnight, while her mom fought for her life. She had no one to make her breakfast, so Chlea occasionally visited the hospital's cafeteria for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

But Chlea wouldn't complain. How could she when mom was fighting for her life in every minute that passed?

Her only concern was her grandpa not showing up.

She tried calling Grandpa, but her house's landline was cut off, and mom's cellphone bill was already due. She sometimes would try asking the nurse to call grandpa, but aunt Brie would stop her every time. Aunt Brie told Chlea how busy grandpa was and that they should only bother grandpa if necessary. But with mom dying, it was necessary. And so she begged aunt Brie to call grandpa, and aunt Brie promised to do so.

When grandpa had not shown up even when mom passed away, Chlea had begun to question so many things. Perhaps Aunt Brie had lied; perhaps she had not. But deep down inside, Chlea wished it was Aunt Brie who lied. At least it was a bit better than the thought of grandpa not caring enough about her to fly and see her during mom's funeral.

By that time, all Chlea wanted was certainty. If Grandpa still wanted her, she hoped for him to come to pick her up at any given minute. But if Grandpa didn't want her, she would have no problem living in an orphanage. At least it would be much better than living with aunt Brie.

Chlea remembered her friends' words about the lousy food they serve in an orphanage, but after seven months and twenty days living with aunt Brie, Chlea somehow knew she would enjoy the orphanage's food much more than the soggy pop tarts she had every day. And, of course, she wouldn't mind sharing her room with many other children; at least, that would be better than sleeping under the same roof with a bunch of barely sober adults.

That night, whether it was a fortunate or unfortunate thing, was quieter than other nights she had spent with aunt Brie. The two-bedroom house was dark and empty, with no excessive smoke, no poker games, and nothing but her and aunt Brie.

Aunt Brie was lying on the ground; her shoulder leaned on the old musty sofa that was supposed to be Chlea's bed. It was too dark to see most things in the room, but Chlea could still see aunt Brie's figure under the small light from the TV. She was looking upwards, eyes empty and lips forming a smile that Chlea knew all too well. It was that powder again.

Just an hour ago, one of aunt Brie's 'friends' had come to visit and brought a small jar filled with white powder that aunt Brie seemed to like. More than food, more than alcohol, and even more than money, aunt Brie seemed to like those white powders more than anything. She paid massive money for them and would smile blissfully when she got her hands on those tiny plastic jars. But when she couldn't get those powder, aunt Brie would become a monster.