Home Sweet Girl

Chapter | One

Maryanne

I wrestle with my pillow for the fifth time tonight.

Or is it morning?

I had that dream again, where I am being kidnapped by a mysterious woman. I can't tell what she looks like because her face is a constant blur. This has been reoccurring for three nights in a row. I told my dad about it one day and he said it's nothing for me to worry about. Im believing it's my deceased mother—whom I never seen before. My dad stated I was a baby when she died. He talks briefly whenever I ask about her. I assume it's painful for him to relive those memories. As her offspring, I at least deserve to know more. Even if it's not her I'm dreaming about.

The room occupied with women and children steadily brightened from the rising of the sun. Unveiling, beige colored walls. The discovery crumbled my last attempt to sleep and forced me to sit up while rubbing my eyes.

It's early, I might as well get up for breakfast.

Settled at the bottom bunk, I huff and reach under the creaky bed to grab a pink and sparkly backpack with all of my personal belongings inside; to freshen up. I trained myself to double check my bag every morning and make sure nothing is taken. I've been cautious ever since I lost my blanket and so-so years ago.

In the bright bathroom, I go in the toilet stall to relief my bladder from the seven hours of restless sleep. I splash cold water on my face, then examine the stains on my orange sleep shirt before changing into a thin hoodie. My hands scoop up more water applying it on my stubborn curls.

In a flash, I'm sitting down to tie on my black and white tennis shoes. They were a Christmas present from my dad. He says I have to be extra careful with them because these are 'branded' shoes.

Moments later, I travel to the cafeteria. Finding the large room with long and round tables to be empty. I can hear the sounds of simmered chatting from the cooks and servers. Including, clashing of pans and pans channeling the room. The early morning chill makes me shiver. The space is a lot colder when it's not filled with people.

"Hello, good morning! We've just finished setting up," the tall and tan woman wearing a hair net says, putting on a pair of gloves.

Another woman of a shorter stature says, "Breakfast will be served shortly". I smile in agreement.

While silver pans of food are displayed, I took the opportunity to search for my father across the hall. I recognize a human lamppost leaning against the wall outside of the men's washroom. As I approached, a man yells in my direction.

"Hey! no girls allowed!" I stiffen at the sound of the loud voice—slowing my pace. I'm debating to enter. Thankfully my dad's protest saves me before it turned sour.

"Pipe down, she can come in. She's my daughter!" my dad scoffs.

The older man mumbles, "I dont care! I dont want no little girls lookin' at me".

"Lookin' at what? If I say she can come in she can. Who's gonna stop her?" I recognize my dad balls his hand into a fist when he means business. The older man throws his hands up in defeat.

"Come here Mary. don't be afraid of him," he coax me forward. I lean into his side, wrapping my arm around his lanky figure as he reciprocates.