A broken child

I woke up in tears from a nightmare, everything black and white. Unrecognizable people and unknown surroundings, only it wasn’t a dream at all. “Where’s my mother” I asked, The two men in dark shaded suits look down at me and say nothing. I knew I couldn’t do anything to get away, I knew my mother wasn’t coming back or that I would be seeing her again. All I knew is that it was over. That I had to learn to be alone, that I couldn’t speak without being punished. I realized that I wouldn’t be listened to, I wouldn’t be told I’m loved or that I’m beautiful. I had such fear I’d never recieve a hug again. I was certain I wouldn’t be me after this.

I’m escorted into a dark grey vehicle, it’s hot and dry inside the car, it had that same scent every rental car had. The smell almost brought me a little happiness as my grandmother had rentals so it was quite familiar. The drive was long and quiet, finally we stopped. As I gazed out the window in tears I noticed a light yellow shaded house, the roof was dark brown and the yard was all fenced in. To me this looked like a place of isolation and loneliness. The two mysterious men lead me out of the car and towards the house, I kept analyzing my surrounds. Hoping to see something I could find the smallest joy in at this darkest moment.

I entered the house and immediately was greeted by an older middle-aged woman with short black hair, her face was angelic and innocent, “Hello dear! Welcome, I’m Pauletta, let’s do your intake and get you settled in” she said. At that moment I had felt slight relief that I would actually be liked. As doing so the two men in suits say thank you and they left. I didn’t know what was going to happen but I had a feeling that I was going to be here for awhile. After the intake was done, Pauletta showed me to my room, it wasn’t the best looking bedroom I’d seen but I was just thankful I could be alone. The bedroom was fairly bare, no furniture other than a bed and a night stand, the walls were an off-white shade with old scratch marks on the walls that were clearly painted over, the carpet was a dirty beige colour with burn marks in random places and there was only a single dusty window by my bed. As I’m investigating my room Pauletta steps away for a moment and returns with a small basket of essentials, including a few small welcome gift items like nail polish, lip gloss and hair accessories, “here you go, we give these out to kids that come here” she says. Even though the basket was small and everything in it was basic stuff, I still felt kindness in her doing so. Though I had wished I could have brought all my stuff from my moms house, they don’t allow you take anything, not even a hair brush. Just shoes to walk outside with.

At last I’m by myself in my room, still confused on what’s exactly happening and wondering if I’ll ever live with my mom again or even get to see her. Somehow I felt it was my fault, I could have tried to avoid this, I could have tried to run away, I could have tried something but I didn’t. I sobbed with every piece of my broken heart and as the teardrops hit the carpet disappearing so did little pieces of myself. I took a deep breath and said to myself “you can get through this”.