Page 111 of Eternal
Brittany patted me on the head like I was a pet. “Behave,” she said, as if I had a choice.
She straightened her dress, showcased her fake smile again, and walked out, leaving me alone in the silence. The moment they walked in, everything about the house changed. The warmth, the comfort, the air. Them…
Brittany smiled with her teeth but not her eyes. “Fix your dress,” she said, tugging at the hem like I was her little puppet.
My heart jumped, it was her again, the caseworker, clipboard, shiny shoes, that weird, chirpy voice like she was hosting a kid’s show.
Christian opened the door all smiles, and Brittany slipped into her “perfect wife” routine.
I stayed by the wall like I was told, quiet, still, pretty. Invisible. The woman didn’t even say my name, she said, “And how is she doing?”
She’s right here. You could ask her yourself.
But she didn’t, they never did.
Brittany launched into the same rehearsed speech about “adjustments” and “trauma” and how “we give her space.”
I watched them all like I was watching a movie I’d seen a hundred times, I mouthed the lines with them.
Why does no one ever ask me anything? Why is it like I’m not even allowed to speak?
My mouth stayed shut, but my brain screamed: Is this normal? Am I the only one who feels like something’s wrong?
The woman glanced at me, her eyes paused for half a second on the fading bruise under my eye, then she smiled. “Well, everything seems fine here.”
Fine.
Christian laughed and said something about “progress.” Brittany patted my head. I wanted to slap her hand away. Why is no one hearing me?
And then the door closed, and they were gone. Christian’s smile dropped like it had never been real. Brittany’s eyes turned to ice. “See? That wasn’t so hard,” she said, like I had done something right.
But all I felt was this tightness in my chest, this wrongness I couldn’t name.
If this is a foster home, why does it feel like a trap?
I didn’t say a word, I closed my eyes, maybe if I didn’t look at them, they wouldn’t see me.
They don’t even want to see me either way.
If Mama was alive and if Papa Alexei was too, I’d never be here. They would’ve never let me end up like this. I hoped so or maybe I dreamed of it in a way, but they’re dead.
How is everyone so blind?
I wanted to scream that they’re lying, nothing is fine here. But they wouldn’t care, if they did, they’d see the small cut on my cheek, the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
But they don’t care, the entire world forgets about the kids who cry in silence.
That thought makes me want to throw up, no one cares about me, no one, no one will protect me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the memory down where all the other ghosts wait. My cold hands shake when I reach for the pills hidden in the bathroom cabinet. Just one to make the pain go quiet, to bring them back in my dreams, whole, smiling, alive.
Maybe then, I’ll see them again, maybe then, it won’t hurt so much.
32
AZRA
“She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5
