Damaged

Chapter 22: Not Enough

I ran through the corridor, and into the next hall. I took the next door I could find. Jumping to reach the knob. I saw a pair of stairs and ran up to them in my little feet. I saw another door and bolted through. And then was amazed by the scenery. The night sky was shining bright. It was a full moon. It seemed so close. Gleaming at me, with grey specs on the surface. I sat there in the cold air staring at it. I felt like my mother was looking at me listening to me, from the sky above. I didn't realize that the door had opened until I felt a firm grip on my shoulder. 

" Hey what are you doing up here in the cold?" said the officer to me.

I didn't answer him. I wasn't crying I just didn't feel like talking. Clearly he was trying to lighten the mood. And it wasn't working. Truth be told I don't know what I would tell a child who's mother had just died. And not died but been murdered.

" Do you want to go back in that room with the nice lady? She said she had some movies and toys for you to play with."

" Okay."

That seemed to be the only thing I would say for a while. It is a word that adults both love and hate to hear. For when they want the kids to just be polite an agree. For time were they just can't "deal with" right now. It was great. For therapists not so much. I wasn't rebellious during those years, I just didn't talk. At all.

Eleven years ago

" So Clara how are things going since the last time we spoke."

" They're fine."

" Can you explain what you mean by fine?"

" Um well I went to the grocery store yesterday with Ms.Walker. We had to get some things for the kids in the home. Some of them have a cold. She says that herbal ingredients are better than chemicals. She doesn't believe in medicine."

"Well it is delighting to hear you voice. This is the most you have talked in a whole session."

" Ya Ms.Walker says that these sessions are expensive and that if I don't start talking she will just have me talk to Ms. Roach at the home. And she isn't very fun to talk to. She falls asleep. She also sucks on these mints. But despite how many she eats her breath still stinks."

" Ha! Well maybe we should continue talking. Ms.Roach doesn't sound like fun. Even her name is crawling up some chills."

I give out a small grin. That was a good one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I wake up with a backache. I wasn't used to staying up late on the couch. I look around, my place is such a mess. I go to the door and see how my rent is due.

" Shit."

I look around online for jobs. I definitely blew it with purple light. I suddenly see this ad for online newspapers. There are companies hiring writers to write for their magazine. Blue Coastal, a newspaper for crime related news. I think about, how it could be a new start.

I end up calling to ask to have a interview for the job. I tell them a little bit about myself and my last job. And how I would be a great fit.They end up accepting a interview for Friday. And since today is Wednesday, I have to prepare to look my best. I know Richard would want me too. I go into my room and look into the mirror. I definitely need a haircut. But since they are way to expensive I'm going to have to do it myself. I find a new pair of scissors. As I am removing the package I think about how I might screw this up. But I believe in myself. I grab a section of hair and tie it in a ponytail. the other half is brushed out. I take a comb and carefully line it up to how short I want it. My brunette but caramelized blonde hair shines in the light. The blonde highlights I dyed when I first moved into this apartment are now faded. Like a lighter version of my chocolate brown hair. I chop a piece of being left with regret. But I breathe and try to think of how all the shit I have been through is not and should not be compared to a bad haircut.

I begin cutting away all the dead ends and end up having fun with it. And it turns out alright. It reminds of the edgy 70's haircuts. Except mine is not so dramatic. I might become a hairdresser if the interview doesn't work out.