Realize (COMPLETED)

11.

Lisa

Jennie is driving me insane.

It's been two weeks since the McDonald's fiasco and I've found myself seriously rethinking what I've gotten into, more than once. To understand my predicament, think of a loud, belligerent, disrespectful, downright cruel and bitchy four year old whose only goal in life is to make you miserable. There are probably more words to describe the she-devil, but my brain is starting to hurt. If she's not calling me every name in the book, she's threatening my balls and I don't appreciate that shit. She could choose any other part of my body to mutilate, but I draw the damn line at my sacred baby maker.

It's gotten to the point where I can't tell if her reactions are due to hormones or if this is just who she is. My annoying conscience reminds me daily what an idiot I am for putting up with it. Aside from her bad attitude, not much has changed around here. I don't leave the house because I can't leave her alone, but honestly, I didn't go out much even before bringing her here, so the adjustment hasn't been hard. I haven't tied her up again, but I do lock the door each night before bed—that's the extent of my precautions to prevent her from running away. Anything I need, Rosie brings by. She's been amazing since she found out, and as far as I know, she hasn't spilled anything to our family yet. But I know my Rosie Posie; poor girl can't keep a secret. It's just a matter of time before she lets something slip.

Since she discovered Jennie, Rosie drops by for visits practically every day. They've developed this weird love/hate relationship where they bicker back and forth with each other so much that sometimes I feel I need to step in between them before things get out of hand, but the next minute they're laughing their asses off. They even have names for each other. Jennie calls Rosie Bitch amongst other not so nice words, while my sister is a little more respectful by taunting her with names that have to do with her pregnancy because she knows how much it gets under Jennie's skin.

My favorite is Jenniebelly.

On the other hand, I've never met a woman in Jennie's situation who seems to have no emotional attachment to her baby. No matter what Rosie or I say, she acts like she could care less. I understand that she doesn't want the baby, but she's never mentioned anything about considering adoption either. She won't talk to me, leaving me feeling completely lost. It's frustrating.

I think there's something deeper going on with her. Either she's refusing to acknowledge it, or she's just plain scared. She thinks I can't see her struggle to stay tough slipping away; I hear her crying out in her sleep at night. Why is she doing this to herself? Doesn't she realize I'm not the bad guy? I don't want to hurt her, I want to help her. I want to take away her pain. On days when I feel like giving up on her, I have to remind myself that I'm probably the only person she has. Like it or not, she's stuck with me, no matter how hard she tries to push me away—or how insane she makes me feel.

I leave my bedroom and make the short trip down the hall to Jennie's room. I knock, as I do every day, and let myself in after unlocking the door. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the window, something she's been doing a lot lately. When she's not yelling or throwing things at me, she's lost in thought, gazing at the view of the front yard. I can see how it might captivate her, and I wonder if that's why she's so focused.

"Are you ready to go?" I ask stepping closer, but keeping some distance between us. I learned the hard way that if I get too close to the tiger she'll bite, or more like swing and hit me in my forbidden zone. She gets a real kick out of that shit.