Jump to content
LL Medico Diapers and More Bambino Diapers - ABDL Diaper Store

Lottie - A Calibeen Story


Recommended Posts

37. You’re really amazing.

I couldn't take my hands out of the dog and it tortured me to see my daughter on the floor as she was, but she hadn't hit her head on anything so I persevered with the job at hand. By the time I'd finished, by the time the little dog was bandaged and I was kneeling next to Lottie to rouse her from the floor, an hour and a half had passed. It had been difficult: four ribs were caved in and needed to be set, a lung had to be drained and I wasn't entirely sure that I would have been able to save both the legs on his left side, but yet there he was, breathing, bandaged, alive. "Hey gum-drop, how you feeling? Thanks for your help up there." I leaned in and kissed her cheek appreciatively. "I think he's going to be okay. Do you wanna see him now?"

Everything felt like a dream when I came to.  I'd been sat up against the wall - I was almost sure that wasn't where I'd fallen - and Cohen was checking me in her peripherals to ensure I was alright.  She helped me to my feet, but I still felt woozy.  Regardless, the dog I'd thought was dead was lying with his eyes open on the table, breathing softly.  He looked like Hell, but he wasn't dead.  He wasn't dead. "I… um… sit down… please… somewhere…"

I pulled out a steel chair from the desk in the side of the room and helped Lottie sit down on it, filling out a paper form as I spoke to her. "Sorry, it was probably too much for you. I just wanted you to feel like you were a part of something." Which didn't make much sense in retrospective, especially given my expectation that Rich wouldn't make it. But she felt like such an outsider in our lives and I wanted for her to feel like she was an important part. It was difficult.

"Uh huh…" I certainly had a new respect for Cohen.  It was one thing to be a good mother, and it was another to cut up the insides of a small animal and rearrange his ribs.  I could've never done it… "I… um… if it's okay, I don't… really think I can do that again.  I just… it didn't go so well that time… with the fainting and all…" God, I felt pathetic.  I fainted.  I couldn't believe it.

"Everybody faints, gum-drop. Nerves like that don't come natural, you have to build them. Which is also why this could be good for you; if you can have the nerve to make it through something like this then nothing in life is going to make you anxious anymore." It was something I'd given a lot of thought to: ways I could help with her anxiety, and by extension her thumb-sucking. I knew she was insecure about it, and with school starting soon it was a habit I wanted to help her with.

I frowned and slipped the gloves off my hands, the mask having been taken off sometime while I was on the floor - I imagined that was Cohen's doing. "If I could have just… had something in my mouth it would've been okay." Realistically, it probably wouldn't have been okay.  I would have likely fainted regardless, but at least I wouldn't have bordered on a panic attack…

"You managed to make it fifteen minutes into things without anything in your mouth, though. I'd say that's something to be proud of." And to be fair, the first time I'd been present while a senior vet had cut open an animal, I'd fainted a whole lot quicker than Lottie had. I finished checking off the final parts on the paperwork and stood up. "Come on, we need to get Jonathan to sign this and let him know that Rich is on the recovery."

"I'm… just gonna sit here a minute.  I'll be out soon." Cohen nodded and left the room, leaving me alone with the little puppy.  I wasn't wholeheartedly convinced I could stand.  I watched the stationary puppy's eyes move, his chest rising and falling slowly. "Glad you're okay.  Sorry I wasn't much help." The puppy didn't move and I slipped my thumb in my mouth.  It was wonderfully calming.

Jonathan left shortly after we spoke; Rich would need to be kept here for observation for a few days and he was just relieved to know that his dog was on the mend. I poured myself a coffee and fetched a soda can out of the little bar fridge for Lottie before returning to where she was sitting. "Soda?" I'd have to move Rich, soon - take him to the recovery room and document his care instructions - but right now he seemed pretty content laying right where he was.

"Yeah, thanks…" I took my thumb out of my mouth, popped open the can and sipped slowly, letting the bubbles fade away in my mouth. "I don't know how you do it… that's just… crazy.  I could never.  Gosh.  I don't know.  You're just… really amazing." I nearly used Cohen's name, but thought better of it.  We were beyond that. "You're really amazing, Mom."

A little smile crept onto my lips as I leaned against one of the steel counters, blushing a little at the praise. "Well, at least you'll have something fun to share with the class for your 'go to work with your parent' speech." I remembered mine when I was her age and it was probably far more mundane than hers would be. Of course, she could just cheat and do it on her dad; everybody already knew what a day at school was like.
 

Link to comment

38. I might need glasses.

Cohen helped me back to her office after that and I went back to paperwork while she tended to Rich.  When she finally came back in, it seemed most of the other work was done. "I'm almost done with the paperwork, too.  Just these ones left.  Five or six." Again, I lifted the paper off the desk so I could see it, squinting in the office light to catch the ID numbers.  110949.

"Do you wear glasses, gum-drop?" I stood up and wandered over to my bag, pulling out a Tupperware container with a good portion of leftover paella. I had a microwave in my office, so I cracked the lid on the container and slid it into the microwave before turning it on. "I only ask because it seems like you're having trouble focusing on some of the smaller text. We could get you glasses when we go into town to get your ears pierced tomorrow, if you want."

I was getting my ears pierced…? When was this agreed upon?  Was it when I fainted?  Sneaky Cohen… "Um… no." I picked the paper up and looked at the numbers.  They were… fine.  I mean, maybe a little blurry around the edges, but it wasn't that bad. "I can see okay.  I just have to move the paper a little bit.  It's not that big a deal, though." And she'd already gotten me three pairs of shoes today - I had no intention of having her waste money on glasses I probably didn't even need.

"Well, we'll get you an eye test tomorrow and let the doctor decide." She looked at me and opened her mouth to protest, but I capped it off with, "And I'm your Mom, so I'm going to get my way on this one, gum-drop." I smiled widely and the microwave dinged to let us know it was finished. "Want some paella, pretty girl?" Leftovers weren't just a money saver, they were a requirement. It's not like there was anybody to go out and get a bite to eat in the middle of the night.

The topic of glasses didn't come up again that night.  We ate leftovers, which weren't as good as the first time around, and at six in the morning another worker came in to take Cohen's place.  I'd never heard of an all night vet before, but this one seemed to run pretty smoothly.  I climbed into Cohen's car and tilted the seat back.  Gosh, I was exhausted.  The sunlight was just starting to peek over the trees as we drove home, just like the way it had when Cohen found me six days before.

"She's asleep in the car, poor thing; tuckered out after the long night. We had to do surgery on Jonathan's dog." "Rich?" "Yeah." "Does Jacob know? Jacob loves that dog." "I don't know, but Rich is going to be okay. Lottie helped." I wandered into the kitchen and came back, passing Cohen a large mug with a smoothie inside. "I'll go bring her inside; you get up to bed." Cohen nodded and smiled, kissing my cheek before taking the smoothie and wandering upstairs. I went out the front down to the car and gently cracked the door, unbuckling the sleeping girl and lifting her into my arms. "Easy now, child. All aboard the Daddy-train. Express service to Slumberland." It really was so easy to see her as a child, and despite the difficulties I was having, I was starting to actually want to accept her. And as I laid her down, and her eyes opened up, I thought about if our own daughter would be so wonderful. Why did she have to have the past she had?

"Mm… morning…" I didn't remember falling asleep and I wasn't sure how I got in my bed either.  And with the sky just starting to brighten, my concept of morning wasn't completely off.  But it wasn't my morning yet and I was still very tired. "I fainted and I might need glasses…" The shortened events of the day was probably more to concern Emerson than not saying anything at all, but he smiled regardless. "I'm very tired…"

"Emma, the optometrist in town, is very sweet. She takes care of both mine and your mother's glasses." I smiled matter-of-factly, seeking to reassure the girl, but she was still close enough to sleep that the words probably didn't mean much to her. "You say you fainted? Are you okay? Does your mom know?" Fainting in children was very serious though, the sort of thing that I would be quick to file a report upon if it had occurred with a child at school.

"Uh huh… we were in surgery and… I was helping…" It probably didn't need any more explaining than that, but I was only vaguely aware of what was happening.  After everything that happened today, with bra shopping, with telling Cohen everything, with fainting, I was well and truly exhausted. "Had one of those… paper masks on.  And couldn't put my thumb in my mouth…"

"Is the nail polish not helping?" It was unusual for it not to, but maybe it had chipped off. "Regardless, get some rest, child. I'll wake you around noon and you can help me with my project in the basement. How does that sound?" I knelt down next to the bed and flipped on the nightlight: a purchase we'd made when we moved in on the rationale that we might have our child's friend stay over some nights in the guest room and it turned out to be a good purchase. "Is there anything I can get for you before bed, beautiful?"

But I never heard Emerson's last question.  The next thing I knew, Emerson was gently shaking me and I pulled the blanket up over my head like I do. "It can wait until morning…" "It is morning."Real morning." "It's afternoon." Really?  I rolled over onto my back and whimpered, testing my eyes to the afternoon light.  Even with my bedroom on the west side of the house, it was still bright.

"Your mom is still asleep." It was still truly strange to say 'your mom' to a child that wasn't mine, but I was getting used to it. "But I went to the hardware store and everything we need is downstairs. There's also a package for you they had waiting at the post office. Someone went and gift-wrapped it, though. I'm not sure who that could be." I'd wrapped the large train box a dozen times before I was satisfied and signed the card with "For Charlotte, Love Santa (for all the time you missed)".

"A package…?" But how did anyone know where I was?  And my name was entirely different now!  No one knew it but the facility… but they wouldn't send me mail, would they?  This didn't make any sense.  I slid to the edge of my bed but abruptly stopped.  No, no… not this time… not with Emerson here… "I… I'll be right down.  Meet you down there…"

"Hurry along now, there are pancakes on the table for you." I smiled. I was trying, really trying. I walked out of the room and descended the stairs, thinking about Cohen and how easily she'd adjusted. How could someone just overlook what had happened? She'd killed someone. A young boy. Someone else's child. I looked at the stack of pancakes and took a breath. You can do this, Emerson. It means so much to Cohen, and so much to Charlotte.
 

  • Like 3
Link to comment
9 hours ago, Everlyn Ashley Harding said:

Moreeeeeeeeee

There will be. ^_^ 

4 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

So glad you are back:wub:

Thank you!!

Okay so here's the deal: Pudding and I are going away for a week to Disneyland so I won't be putting any more Lottie up after tomorrow.  I'm going to try to post as MUCH AS I CAN.  And I promise to wrap everything up when we get back. ^_^ 

Link to comment

I think that's great, you have been working so hard the last eww weeks that you and Pudding deserve a vacation for yourself .  I hope you have a great  time and look forward to the end of this story.  I can honesty say that when it ends I will really miss it.  I have come to love all three of the people in their own way.:wub:

Link to comment

We'll try to be back on schedule as soon as we can! If you absolutely can't wait, the completed PDF/ePub  *is* available on our Patreon ^^ Thanks so much for loving our work!

Link to comment

39. I take some time to wake up.

Changing took precedent, but then I ran into Cohen and Emerson's room.  I was careful to check the hallway first but it seemed like Emerson was downstairs.  I jumped up on the bed and shook Cohen, who woke up as slowly as I did. "Come on, come on, come on!" She mumbled incoherently and I frowned; was I really this difficult? "Mom.  Wake.  Up."

"No, no… he'll be fine… don't let him gnaw at his scrotum… it'll heal right up…" I mumbled incoherently as the girl shook me, bringing into a great deal of question the very nature of my dreams, but I eventually snapped out of it and rubbed my eyes. "Lottie…hey… what's up? Is everything okay?" I tried to figure out scenarios that she'd wake me up in the middle of the day, but nothing came to mind. So confusing.

"Okay.  I gotta go downstairs.  Like, right now.  And I can't shower, and that sucks.  And my bed is wet.  And I don't want Emerson to know." It was still so hard to call him Dad, even now.  Maybe it was because we weren't that close. "So… do… something.  Please.  I gotta go get breakfast.  I'm sorry for waking you, by the way." I climbed off Cohen and her bed and stood impatiently on the carpeted floor.  I didn't want Emerson to come looking.

Being woken up after too little sleep to change wet sheets? I really was a mom now! I just didn't expect to be doing it at thirteen. Still, I forced a smile and rubbed my eyes. "I'll get on it, gum-drop. You go enjoy breakfast with your dad." It was surreal being awake without my usual number of hours of sleep and I couldn't quite shake that zombie feeling. Her bedwetting was starting to become problematic, though, and I resolved to discuss it with her after a few more hours of sleep.

I kissed Cohen on the cheek and hurried out of the room.  I made it to the bottom of the stairs just when Emerson turned the corner. "Was getting a little worried about you." I nodded my head and followed him into the kitchen. "I take some time to wake up." "You don't say," he said amused.  I stuck out my tongue but he wasn't looking.  The dining table was already set when I entered the kitchen and I took my seat without prompting.  The pancakes looked really good.  It was such a long night, and though it was already past noon it still felt early in the morning.

"Eat up, now, and then we'll go see who that package is from. I'm very curious." I looked up at the sound of the floorboards creaking and frowned a little. "Whatever is your mom doing up? Eat your pancakes, child, I'm going to make sure she's okay." She almost tumbled out of her chair and stood up, shaking her head. I was even more confused. "What's the matter, Charlotte? I'm just going to see if she needs any help. Is there a problem?"

"No!  I… I was… um…" I always was a terrible liar. "Could you pour me some milk, please?  Because… I really don't like juice." It wasn't technically a lie - orange juice always tasted strange to me, so the glass next to me was not very appealing.  Emerson looked strangely at me and I took my seat again, starting in on the pancakes and watching him as he poured me a glass of milk.  He wouldn't go check on her now, would he?

I set the milk down and looked toward the ceiling, the sounds of creaking having since stopped. My gaze continued back to Lottie as she sipped her milk and smiled up at me. She really was a charming young girl. "Hurry now, eat up princess. We have a lot to do today." I couldn't hide it entirely; I was excited. I loved toy trains and the idea that I had a daughter I could share my passion with who really appreciated it was just astounding.

"I don't know who would send me a gift…" Maybe it was a bomb.  Or was that only in cartoons?  The postal service probably screens for things like that.  Still, I was apprehensive.  Emerson led me to the foyer where there was a very large package by the front door.  I looked up at him and he ushered me forward.  There was a little tag on it.  I bit my lip and lifted the tag slowly, reading the note.  To Charlotte.  From Santa.  I felt my heart melt and my lips bursted into a smile.  I quickly tore the wrapping paper off the box, revealing the very large train set. "This is so cool!  Can I open it?"

"You could, but I was thinking perhaps you might want to come down to the basement and help me build you a table to set your trains up. You know, a big sheet of wood with hole big enough to stand up through so you can access the interiors. Maybe on the weekends, we could make some papier-mâché landscapes." Such things were the bread and butter of my childhood and it was one of my dreams to one day be able to share them with my child. My son, I expected; but that my daughter… - she's not your daughter, Emerson - my adopted, temporary surrogate daughter… she was someone I could share this with.

"Really?!  Yeah, okay!  Of course." I picked up the train set - with much difficulty - only to have it taken away by Emerson and put on his shoulder.  I smiled appreciatively and followed him down the stairs.  I'd only been in the basement once and that was to get boxes.  Rows of shelves and storage followed through to an open area in the back.  It was a lot like a warehouse, though the mild lighting kept it well enough lit.  Still, it wasn't my favorite place in the house to be.
 

Link to comment

40. It was rude.

"I cleared out this area here," I explained as we reached the open corner; it was probably about fourteen by fourteen feet, and there was a good amount of wood along with some power-tools lined up along the wall. "When I was a boy, my first train table was ten by ten feet, and it was at table height but had cut-outs for me to stand up in.  You have to crawl under the table to get to them, but it means you can reach everything."

I was never particularly good at building things, but I was very resourceful.  Emerson set the train down against a shelf and I stood out of the way while he described what we were doing.  I didn't mind building a table with Emerson - after all, it was better than surgery with Cohen - but it was a little exhausting.  By the time we'd erected one side of the table top, I was sweating through my pajamas.

Charlotte was still very tired from last night, I knew, so I did most of the work myself, appointing her little tasks here and there so she could feel involved and useful, though even that fatigued her somewhat. It was endearing though, having my little girl help her daddy build. "You're quite good at this, Charlotte. And you're going to love the end result." I knew she would because I would have at her age, and by the time the table was finished - a large expense with five square holes big enough to stand up through - we were both pretty tired. "What do you think?"

"It's really pretty." Even in my exhaustion, I climbed in under the table and stood in the center.  I wasn't very tall, but I could reach any end of the table just fine from where I was.  I liked that.  I really wanted to play with my train, now, but I thought a shower would be a better use of time.  After having soaked through two sets of pajamas, it seemed like something I needed. "You think we could paint it…?"

"Absolutely. I would need to go to the store to get some paint, however. Will you be okay here without me for a spell?" Deep down I knew that she was twenty years old and thus was perfectly able to fend for herself. I also knew she'd killed somebody before and questioned the wisdom of leaving her alone with my wife. It was largely irrational though, I knew.

"Yeah.  I'm gonna shower, anyway.  I feel so gross." I smiled regardless and crawled out of the center of the table, following Emerson up the stairs.  Above everything, he really seemed to enjoy his time with me.  He was still careful not to call me his kid, but he still called me Charlotte.  I wasn't sure where that left us, but it was a pretty good place to be at a week after meeting him.  If I kept putting things into terms like that, it even sounded progressive!

There was so much doubt in my mind as I drove down the road towards town; for the past few days there'd been a voice in my head that had first started out as a whisper, telling me to call the Feds and get Charlotte taken away. And it seemed as though the closer I got to the girl, the louder the voice got. I could ignore it in company, but these long drives? These were the times it was most audible. I couldn't turn her in, though; Cohen would never forgive me. Is that it, Emerson? Is that the only reason? Or is it that you like her? That despite all she's done, you do want her as your daughter? It was so much to deal with and I was glad by the time it got that far that I was approaching the edge of town.

"Oh… hi." The towel was still wrapped around me as I wandered into my bedroom after having taken a shower.  The clean feeling was really refreshing and I hoped I wouldn't always sweat in the basement - that it was just a labor thing.  Cohen was just adding new sheets to the bed with a smile on her face. "Um… about the bedwetting stuff… I know it sucks, and I don't mind doing my own laundry.  I really shouldn't be doing this, anyway…"

"I agree." I smiled sleepily and reminded myself not to be callous. She's your daughter; be kind and compassionate. "When did the bedwetting start? I think it's something we should work towards fixing, or else maybe get you some disposable underpants to wear at night. It's really okay; a lot of girls your age have this issue." I smiled reassuringly, but without the usual energetic glint in my eye, it couldn't help but fall flat just a little bit.

I winced and shook my head, looking down at my feet.  She wasn't really considering… no.  No, no, no. "I'll take care of the laundry from now on.  I'm really sorry for making you do it.  It was rude…" I stepped past Cohen and went over to my closet, picking out something to wear for the rest of the day.  I picked a dark pair of capris and an old t-shirt by the looks of it; after all, I'd probably be helping Emerson paint and I didn't want to ruin any nice clothes.

"Gum-drop, sweetie. It's okay; I don't mind it. But wouldn't you like to be able to wake up without being afraid you'll have to change the bedsheets every morning?" My eyes felt dry and gritty, that sort of gross unpleasantness that came from a particular level of sleep deprivation. Still, I stayed patient and courteous and kind.

"I really should get changed.  I am going to help Emerson paint when he gets home.  He got me a train set, you know?  It's really cool looking.  I'm excited." The topic change wasn't exactly subtle, but I didn't know what else to do.  My bedwetting was something I wasn't handling well, and while I would've loved to wake up dry every morning, it just wasn't an option right now.  

"Okay, gum-drop. But if you decide you want to talk to me about it, maybe when it started or what was happening at the time, we can figure out the cause and make it goes away together." I finished tucking in the new sheets and kissed the girl’s forehead before rubbing my eyes. "I'm going back to sleep, gum-drop. Do you need anything before I do? You're welcome to come and cuddle until your dad gets home if you like."

I shook my head. "I'm good.  Sweet dreams." Cohen left the room and I sat on the bed and sighed, my head in my lap. Why did this have to be so complicated?  Of all the things that followed me, it had to be this one.  I shook my head and decided against thinking about it - I'd just get dressed and wait downstairs for Emerson.  And that's exactly what I did.
 

Link to comment

41. There will always be fear.

“Howdy, Emerson." The short stocky man tipped his hat as I walked past him in the hardware store, stopping to look at a series of padlocks lined up on the wall. "Good afternoon, Sheriff. How're things around town?" "Oh, they're the same as always. You know how things are around here. Except…" He picked up a padlock off the wall and tapped it his hand, thoughtfully. "There're a coupla' Feds poking around at the moment. Looking for an escaped convict." I didn't give any physical reaction to the comment, continuing to look at shades of paint. "Anyone dangerous, Sheriff?" He shook his head and let out a sigh. "A twenty year old girl; broke out of a facility up north in Aberdeen." If it hadn't been clear that he was referring to Lottie, it certainly was now. "Well, I'll keep my doors locked." I picked up two pots of paint and began to walk down the aisle toward the front when he called behind me. "Emerson. You'd tell me if you knew something, wouldn't you son?" I looked over my shoulder and smiled. "Of course." He looked discontent and went back to contemplating padlocks. "Just be careful, Emerson. She killed a man."

I couldn't keep the conversation Cohen and I had out of my head.  The bedwetting was more of a problem than I anticipated, admittedly, but for her to suggest… it's not personal, Lottie.  She's just concerned.  She's probably even looking out for you.  You'll have to talk to her soon.  She'll be more sensitive if she knows.  I sat and waited halfway up the stairs, leaning on the banister.  Eventually the door clicked open and I peeked down at Emerson coming in with two buckets of paint. "Hi."

"Good afternoon, child. I apologize for the delay - the townspeople do so love to talk." I held up the pots of paint and motioned to the basement. "There're brushes downstairs. We'll paint it green, with blue for the water." Which was the two colors I'd picked up, coincidentally. Eventually we'd build hills into the landscape, and tunnels as well; lay down roads and build little buildings for towns. But I was getting ahead of myself. We got to the bottom of the basement stairs and I noticed the lackluster look in the girl’s eyes. "Is everything okay? Something on your mind?"

"Oh.  No.  Um… just distracted." I smiled at Emerson, at about his height two steps up on a staircase, and continued down the stairs.  Emerson set the paints down next to the table and I stood awkwardly in the entryway.  Emerson didn't know about my having been a boy, and he reacted so poorly to my past.  How could I even imagine telling him?  But he didn't have to know, did he?  When would it even come up…?

"If your head clears, you can talk to me about anything." I smiled that warm 7th grade teacher smile and wandered to one of the shelves of racking, looking for the box labeled Paint Supplies. Organization to this degree was really the only way we'd been able to keep all the things we'd wanted to hold onto in any semblance of order and it was at times like this that I was exceptionally proud of it. "Did you have any thoughts on the painting?"

"Um… no, not really." I wasn't sure what was wrong with me.  Everything had been looking up.  Emerson had been so kind to me lately.  I told Cohen my story and she accepted me.  So why was I focusing on the negatives?  Why couldn't I shake the idea of Emerson finding out I wet the bed or Cohen getting upset with my secrets?  Or what if one day they just got bored, or playing parent wasn't fun anymore, and they turned me in?  I felt my stomach sink.  Trusting other people with my fate was… naive.  I slipped my thumb in my mouth to quiet my breathing.

"You know, I lack a woman's empathy - that's one of your mother's greatest strengths. But nor am I oblivious when my child is anxious." There was an arm-chair in the corner, tattered and dusty; but comfortable enough for me to sit down on and make my offer. "Come and tell your dad what's wrong?" I motioned to my lap. I wasn't sure how she'd feel about sitting on my lap, knowing how old she actually was, but it was always my intention that my children would sit on my lap and tell about their troubles, so maybe there was a chance.

I looked down at my feet, my thumb still in my mouth, and walked over to Emerson.  I wasn't sure what I was going to tell him.  I wasn't even sure why I felt this way.  But regardless, I sat down on his leg.  I kept silent for a while and Emerson rubbed my back.  Even on his lap we were the same height. "I don't know… I just…" What was actually bothering me? "I love it here… and… I think that scares me." Jaime's parents loved him.  And now, I could only imagine their pain…

"And you're worried about being found, child?" The conversation I'd had with Sheriff Ludlow at the hardware store certainly hadn't done anything to quell the possibility of that happening, but she didn't need to know that. She needed to be reassured. "The police came, and they went. They have no reason to doubt us when we said that we hadn't seen anybody. You've got a new hair cut, a new name and a new age. I doubt there's any possibility of you being taken away from us." There was. There was every possibility, especially when we started to lodge paperwork and Lottie started school. But again, she didn't need to know that.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, biting harder on my thumb.  Don't cry, Lottie… "I'm… always going to be afraid, aren't I?" It was the truth of the matter, and it was why I couldn't stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong.  I'd always be afraid because the police would never stop looking.  I was smack dead in the area of where they'd last seen me.  And even if I changed my appearance, I didn't change my fingerprints or my blood or anything.  A trip to the hospital and I'd be back in prison…

"We're less than a hundred miles from Aberdeen. I'm inclined to think they'll widen their search radius eventually when they don't find you here and soon the case will go cold. People far less bright than you have escaped the reach of justice before and were never captured again." It was a statistic that I'd long hated; that there were still people out there who should be in jail, people who shouldn't be allowed to live in our society. And I was harboring one of them right now. And despite it, I was warming to her.

"But there will always be fear…" My chest was pounding.  There would, wouldn't there?  No matter where I went or what I did… there'd be fear.  I could live the most perfect life with these people, with Emerson and Cohen, and I'd still be so afraid.  I could get married and have kids, and it wouldn't matter.  I'd look around every corner.  I'd go insane… "I wanna talk to Mom…" I climbed up off Emerson's lap and hurried out of the room, climbing the stairs two at a time.

It was clear to me just how much closer Lottie was to Cohen than to me, but given Cohen had accepted her openly and I'd reacted so poorly it was to be expected. She was right, though; she was so very accurate in her presumptions - she would always be living in fear. It was inevitable. I sighed and stood up off the dusty arm-chair, standing with my arms crossed and looking at the table-top. Maybe this wouldn't work. Maybe she needed to finish her sentence out so she could be free of that fear, and we could still take her in when she got out.
 

Link to comment

42. I’m going back.

"I'm going back." I had to do this before I changed my mind.  I couldn't think about what would happen.  But I needed to tell Cohen before I told anyone.  She deserved it.  She had just woken up after my jumping on her and I wasn't sure she'd heard me the first time, so I repeated myself. "I'm going back." She looked inquisitive and tired, though, so I looked at the carpet. "To the facility…"

This was a dream, right? I squinted and rubbed my eyes, shaking my head quickly to the negative. "Don't be silly, gum-drop. You left there for a reason - why would you want to go back?" I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and then back up at the girl sitting straddled atop me on the covers. Why was she even talking like that? It didn't make any sense. Had I not been a good enough mother? Had I made her feel unwelcome?

"I don't wanna be afraid anymore.  It's only a year.  I can go back, I can do what they want, and I can leave in a year.  And I can come back here.  Start high school, maybe?" I smiled nervously and climbed off the bed.  I wanted this even less than Cohen - she didn't understand what I was going back to… "You've been amazing… an amazing mom.  And I hope in a year you'll still have me…" I kissed Cohen's cheek and stepped out of her bedroom.  This would be the hardest thing I've ever done…

She didn't want to be afraid anymore? I didn't get it - I kept her safe, I did! I scrambled out of bed and followed the girl to the door of the bedroom, wrapping my arms around her and shaking my head. "Please. I can keep you safe, gum-drop." I wasn't ashamed of the fact I was crying - I didn't cry often, and only when it was deserved. And today it was definitely deserved. She couldn't just go! She was my little girl! "Charlotte Tovia-Roux. Please don't do this."

I smiled and turned toward Cohen, though I was almost certain she could see through it. "Think about it.  No running.  No anything.  I wouldn't have to be afraid and you wouldn't have to be afraid of someone taking me away.  And Emerson would be so happy if I wasn't a criminal anymore.  You and him would get along so much better.  And I'd come back.  I promise…"

There was so much logic in the young girl’s voice, so much conviction and certainty; how long had she been thinking about this? I smiled the way a parent did when their toddler said something ridiculous and shook my head. "Oh gum-drop, things are just fine between your dad and I. And aren't you two building a train table today?" She just looked up at me with that earnest look in her eyes… those pretty blue eyes… I could feel my heart getting erratic. She couldn't go! "Do you think they'll let you out after a year, gum-drop? Even though you escaped?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Then I'll come back here after two years.  Or three." But would they even want me, then?  Was that what this was about?  I felt my stomach sink and pulled away from Cohen.  I just wanted us to be a happy family.  But how could we, with my past?  And that was my fault.  I'd messed everything up.  I always did…

"Gum-drop, if I had to wait ten years for you I would. You're my little girl. You'll always be my little girl, even when you grow up and go off to college; I'll always remember seeing you stumble out of the woods. But you don't have to do this; we could move somewhere far away from here if that's what you're afraid of. Move to a place they'll never find you." There was definitely a tone of desperation in my voice, though, and I wiped away a few more tears. "You said in that place they change who you are. What if they change who you are now? And then you'll just be someone else behind those pretty eyes."

"They aren't even my eyes, Mom…" She didn't know that story, though. "And this isn't me, either.  This girl.  But I'll tell you something: who I am now is a lot better than who I was then.  They changed me, but was it really so bad?  Maybe… they'll even make me better.  Kinder.  Sweeter.  That's the point of it all, anyway… to make me into someone useful." I bit my lip and took a step backward. "I'm… really, really sorry…"

"You're asking me to let someone take away my daughter and kill her, hollow her out and replace her with someone else. And you might think that makes you a better person, gum-drop; and it might. But it also means you a different person. A person who might not want to come live in a big house in South Dakota, a person who might not want to be my daughter. And I'm sorry… I'm sorry I'm so selfish, but you're my baby. How can you ask me to let you go?"

I didn't have an answer for Cohen and it made me stop at the stairs.  I couldn't ask that of Cohen no more that I could've asked Jaime's parents to hit him with my car.  I winced and shook my head.  Why was this so hard?!  That's when the tears started down my cheeks and I lost control.  I started to sob just as Emerson reached the bottom of the stairs.  Both of my pseudo parents watched as I slipped to the floor, my tears dotting the carpet.

There were a lot of feelings in that moment: the agony of watching my daughter cry, the concern at her despondence, the pride in my husband over how quickly he ascended the stairs to kneel down over Lottie. I spoke to her in calm soothing words, running my hand down her cheek and fingers through her hair, even as Emerson hoisted her off the floor and we made our way to her bedroom. I pulled back the covers and Emerson laid her down, and we sat on either side of the girl as she sobbed. "It's okay, gum-drop, you're home and you're safe and nobody is ever going to hurt you." "I promise you, you're safe Charlotte."

I appreciated both of their words, but they didn't make me feel any better or any more safe.  Eventually, as the tears started to dwindle, so did I, and my exhaustion began to take over.  Cohen and Emerson never left the room, Cohen playing with my hair and Emerson rubbing my back.  Finally, I stopped crying, stopped shaking, and just laid silently and awkwardly between the two.  It was difficult even to breathe…

With Lottie's eyes having slipped closed, I looked at my husband and sighed. "She wants to go back to the prison." He paused for a moment in thought and nodded softly, though the conflict in his eyes was evident. "And are we sure that's not best for her? She could finish out her sent-" "No. Emerson. No. Okay, it's not an option." The girl stirred a little, obviously still listening to us talk, but she didn't say anything. "I like her as much as you do, Cohen, trust me when I say I do. And I want to see her safe, but she broke the law, and-" "Stop." "All I'm saying i-" "I don't want to hear it, Emerson. She's our daughter now." "And when we have our own child, Cohen? What then?" There was an even longer pause as I looked down into Lottie's angelic face and shook my head. "She's all we have, Emerson. She's a gift given to us, and we have to take care of her. She needs us and we… need her." "Cohen, what are you talking about?" "We're not having any other children, Emerson." He stood up and shook his head, words flooding from his brain to his lips, but none making it out; his voice taken away by my next statement. "You're infertile." The resolve in his eyes drained like a bathtub with the stopper pulled and I looked back at the girl on the bed. "Are you… sure?" There was only a soft nod in response as I ran my fingers through Lottie's hair.
 

Link to comment

43. I’m so scared.

When I finally came to, Cohen was still lying next to me, though she was clearly asleep.  I rubbed my eyes and sat up slowly, looking around the room. "Good morning." Emerson was sitting in a chair in the corner, a book in his lap.  I blinked against the evening light cascading through the bedroom window. "Morning…" I turned again toward Cohen who had taken it upon herself to lie down.  Her breathing was slow and even, her eyes closed.  

Cohen had crashed not long after Charlotte had, but I'd stayed awake to watch over the two of them. The news had been so difficult to hear: the idea that she'd known and kept it from me and what it meant for our life,  our hopes and dreams and everything we planned were all down the toilet now. All we wanted was a child. Not even two, just one. It made sense now why she was so ready to overlook the girl’s past and her sins, why she was so willing to adopt and why it meant so much to her. I understood it now. And in the hours since they'd fallen asleep, I'd thought about raising Charlotte as my own. About helping to guide her and shape her and help her grow up to be someone beautiful; the kind of girl who'd never commit such a crime. "How are you feeling, my love?" She looked away and her eyes drifted back to Cohen. I didn't want her to leave.

"I… I wanna talk… to you… if that's okay…" Cohen didn't stir, so I looked back to Emerson with a little smile. "I know this is hard.  I mean, I can only imagine… but I know what hard things are like, so I kind of… I don't know, empathize?" Emerson nodded and I looked down at my hands, doing my best to keep my thumb out of my mouth, at least until the end of the speech. "She's… Cohen is… amazing.  But I don't think she's being rational.  So I wanted your opinion.  Do you… really think it's best for me to stay?  I could be back within a year, without the fear and the running and endangering you both.  I'm so scared, Emerson… I'm always so scared…"

The question posed was heavier than what I'd expected and I was acutely aware of the fact that my answer would be the deciding factor determining if Lottie would stay or go. I had the power to welcome her into our lives, knowing her past and knowing our future, and I also had the power to send her away to finish her sentence. And finishing her sentence was what she should do. She should repay her debt to society and take it with dignity and grace. It's what I would have told her to do if she'd asked me this morning, even despite how much closer we'd been these past two days. "I know you're afraid, child. And that fear could well be with you for a very long time. But it's not a fear you have to shoulder on your own; we can do everything in our power to conceal you and keep you safe. To dull the feeling." I wasn't proud of the answer I'd given; so much of me knew it wasn't the right thing to do. But right now it was what I wanted. "If you go back, there's every possibility you'll be retried, and with an escape on your record they could push for a much longer sentence, citing that you're a danger to society."

I took a deep breath and bit the tip of my thumb; it was now or never. "It's not… exactly like that." And I told Emerson everything.  From the night I killed Jaime, driving drunk, and the subsequent months of depression and suicidal tendencies.  I told him about the court case and my options - how I'd chosen the rehabilitation facility.  I told him of my first day - about learning Firsts and Seconds: how Firsts were turned into baby girls and Seconds took care of them.  I told him about the tank of soda water that thinned my skin and gave me blue eyes.  I told him about the Hypno sessions and how, after a while, my thoughts would change.  I told him about Clara - the girl who took care of me for two months - and Cass - the First who had me wrapped around her finger, so much so that I was demoted to a First again for the first time in the facility's history.  How I escaped by taking my hypnotherapist hostage because he wouldn't stop mocking me.  How I was born a boy and how I told Cohen about it yesterday in her car.  I told him everything, though I left out certain details to spare myself.  And by the end of it, after nearly an hour of talking, I ended with the simple truth; "I'd only be gone a year, if I went.  And I could come back here more girly, more childish, more perfect for you and Cohen."

I was always a proponent of justice, of the proper punishment for the proper crime and taking responsibility for your actions. I'd been raised to believe that and I still felt that it was important. But the more I listened to what Charlotte described the more disgust I felt in the judicial system; we had laws against cruel and unusual punishment, and what the young girl described was tantamount to both. Taking a man and breaking him, making him into someone else; a girl as soft and demure and polite as Charlotte was? It didn't trigger an issue to me that my daughter was born as a boy; what did bother me was the fact that they'd done that to her against her will. I let her finish talking, nodding softly and smiling as she spoke, not wanting to interrupt, and by the end my fingers were steepled beneath my chin. What do you say to something like that? "Life here will mean always knowing that you might get caught, child. But we can do everything possible to stop that from happening. We can give you a life apart from everything that happened before. A fresh start. All without ever having to step foot into that wretched place. But that fear, however much it dulls, will always be there. Is that a price you're happy to pay for your life here? Or is it worth risking who you are in their hands to make that fear end?"

"I don't know… maybe… or maybe not…" That was why I'd asked Emerson - if he could've given me an answer, I could've followed his judgement.  But he didn't.  He only gave me another choice.  I was happy here.  But would that happiness last?  Would it be something I could hold onto?  Then again, would I be happy here if I went back, after everything?  I didn't know…

"You asked me what I think is best. I can tell you the answer to that, Charlotte. I can tell you that without a second thought - you should stay here. Enroll in the school, live your life and make us proud the way you never could have made your last family." She smiled a little at the words, but there was more to come, more that could change things. "If you want me to tell you what I think is right, however? I think it is right to face your accusers and carry out your sentence. And to know you have a home here when all is said and done." And those words were some of the hardest I'd had to say to anybody, ever. I wanted to stipulate that with what that dreadful place did to people, that I didn't advocate for her to return at all, under any circumstances. But I didn't.

I nodded my head and put on a smile.  So he wanted me here, as did Cohen, as did I.  But what was right, and what was healthy, and what was safe was to leave.  To see them again when I got out of the facility.  And maybe it was selfish, but I wanted to make them happy, even if it meant I'd have to be afraid. "It's late… maybe we should make dinner for when Mom wakes up?"
 

  • Like 1
Link to comment

44. Get this over with.

"Don't be afraid, gum-drop, Emma is a lovely lady and she'll take the best care of those pretty blue eyes of yours." I could still see the apprehension in Lottie as I adjusted her top over her bra and stood back, pursing my lips and trying to decide if she'd need an over-top today. Maybe a cute cardigan, or a hoodie? I turned to her closet and started sifting through the clothes we'd bought from Amazon. "It's not like in Chicago with big machines and goggles and all that scary stuff. It's a simple eye-test and she'll cut your glasses on the spot." I held up a hoodie in front of the girl and smiled, content with my choice as I unzipped it.

"I don't wanna go…" Cohen bit her lip and turned toward the closet again, picking out a second jacket in case I didn't like the first one enough.  It had been over a week since my escape, and to think I was still being hunted… actually, I expected nothing less.  But after the fear and anxiety of the day before, I was much more aware.  Even the night before, I backed out on my punishment and insisted on staying home, though I said it was because of my fainting last time.

"Glasses will help to disguise you a little more." I smiled and slipped the hoodie over the girl’s shoulders, helping her arms into the arm-holes and zipping it up just below her petite bust. I didn't want my little girl being provocative! But I also wanted her to know she had boobs to be proud of, however small. "You'll hold my hand, and we look so much like mother and daughter anyway; you think anybody would doubt us?" She hadn't said it, but after her breakdown last night I knew that she was acutely afraid of being found out.

I shook my head and put my thumb in my mouth.  Over the past 24 hours, it had rarely left.  I felt sick more times than not and eating was becoming a chore. "No, I just… I don't wanna go out.  I wanna stay here with dad." The 'Dad' thing was much harder to get used to than the 'Mom' thing. "You guys don't get a lot of time together anyway." It was a lame excuse and I knew it.

"That's one of the joys of parenthood, gum-drop." I smiled mischievously and motioned to the door. "Wanna wear some makeup today?" Trying to find something to appeal to her excitement was a quest for me at the moment, something to excite her and make her smile. But I was lucky to see her thumb out of her mouth and I knew she was still so caught up in her head. I just wanted to make her better, just wanted her to be a carefree child.

I shook my head and laid down on my bed, curling up to the pillow and pouting when Cohen looked disapprovingly. "We could watch a movie… or something…" I put my thumb back between my lips and watched Cohen shake her head.  I didn't have any other offers, though; I just didn't want to go.  I wasn't yet sure if Cohen would make me.

"I'll make you a deal? You come and get your glasses, and we can stop at the video store and rent out as many movies as you like, and spend the rest of today watching movies. Your Dad makes amazing popcorn." She didn't seem at all enthused, though, and I did my best to stay strong and not get downhearted. Part of a mom's job is to be a pillar of support when stuff gets hard. I really did want to take her to get her glasses, though; she hadn't left the house apart from one night at my work since she'd arrived, and I really did want to help her see it was okay.

I wasn't sure when I agreed - actually, I wasn't sure I agreed at all - but somehow I was in the passenger seat of Cohen's car.  I didn't say anything as she drove us into town; I kept my thumb in my mouth and looked out the window at the trees.  This was a different town to the one where Cohen worked, so I wasn't really sure what to expect.  I wasn't excited, though.  I didn't want glasses and I especially didn't want to be out of the house.

We came out of the edge of the woods and emerged into the town; this one was a little bigger than the one I worked in. It had the hardware store in it that Emerson so loved, as well as the pharmacist and the doctor’s office, a peppering of banks and a post office. It was the sort of town that was big enough to not just have a 'general store' but not much bigger. "Wanna get some ice cream?" Ice cream! Why didn't I think about that before? All little girls can be coerced with ice cream.

"Um… no… I just wanna get this over with…" I was speaking around my thumb, now.  The idea that I'd have to go into the eye doctor with my thumb in my mouth made me anxious, and that anxiety translated into more thumb biting, which in turn fueled my anxiety.  I was starting to feel sick. "I don't like this… just wanna go home…"

We parked out front the pharmacist and I smiled, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "Hey. Come on. It'll be okay. Oh!" I let go of her hand and reached into my purse, pulling out a wrapped lollipop. "I thought about what you said, how you need to have something in your mouth, and thought maybe you'd like one of these for when we're out in public? That way you won't feel like you're drawing attention." It was actually Emerson's idea; one of the things we'd come up with when exchanging all the information each of us had gleaned about our new daughter.

I looked at the lollipop curiously and back up at Cohen. "Maybe…" I took the lollipop from my Mom and took off the wrapping.  I had never been a fan of lollipops before, but if what Cohen said was true… well, maybe it would help.  I took my thumb out of my mouth and replaced it with the sucker, the stick still sticking out of my lips.  It… actually helped.  Though biting the sucker was much less enjoyable than biting my thumb.  I gave Cohen a small smile and thanked her.

It made me swell with pride that I'd helped her, and I made a note to tell Emerson about it when we got home. "Now, I know you don't wanna be out of the house, gum-drop, but we'll make it quick and then we'll rent some movies. Emerson said you took a real interest in our DVD collection the first day you were here. What's your favorite movie?" I opened the door of the car and stepped out, and clearly distracted by the question, Lottie did the same; the two of us walking up the sidewalk to the pharmacist.

I walked alongside Cohen, my eyes at my feet to avoid nervously scanning the sidewalks, because that would be suspicious.  I felt absolutely dreadful - the fear and anxiety was only building and I wasn't sure how to deal with it.  What about school?  Would it be this bad?  What if I couldn't answer a question, like my Mom's birthday?  This was such a bad idea…
 

  • Like 1
Link to comment

45. I hate glasses.

I held the door open for my daughter and the little bell dinged above as it closed behind us. Behind the counter was a short woman - definitely in her thirties - sitting on a stool, reading a magazine. She looked up at me with a smile and set her reading material down. "Hey Cohen, long time no see. And this must be your daughter, right?" She slid off the stool and adjusted her glasses, grinning at the two of us. "Sweet mother of mercy, you can't miss it, can you? She's like a two-thirds size version of you, ain't she?" I smiled and nodded, laughing. "Yeah, she sure is. She's shy still, because she only got in from Chicago recently and she misses her friends back home." "Well is that a fact? Don't you worry, my dear, we're all friends around these parts."

Emma was particularly sweet.  I even started to suck on the lollipop instead of chew it, which was a big step.  Even though Cohen was only a few inches taller, her comments were very flattering about our likeness.  Maybe it could work, right?  Maybe there wasn't anything to be afraid of. "I just have trouble seeing… like… things that I'm trying to read…"

"Well, come on up here, gorgeous." She led the way to a stool toward the back of the room and began to twirl the top to raise it higher, obviously accounting for Lottie's height. "Climb on up here." She turned and dimmed the lights, sorting out a few things for the test. "And what's your name, princess?"

"Lottie… er… Charlotte…" Maybe it was best to use my full name.  Would they be looking for a 'Lottie'?  I wasn't sure.  They hadn't shown Cohen a picture when they came to look for me and that lead me to believe they didn't have one.  Maybe they didn't have a name, either, or they suspected I'd have changed it.  It was clearly a possibility.  But they were looking for a 'girl' and not a 'boy' so they seemed pretty confident.  Regardless, I went over and sat down on the stool, sucking the lollipop nervously.

"Charlotte? That's such a pretty name for a pretty young lady. Well, I'm Emma. And what grade are you in, Charlotte?" Emma always had a way with children, but I guess that came from her years of experience. She slid a transparent sheet of letters into a light box on the wall and began her examination, prompting for each row of letters, then doing it with one eye covered, and then the other, taking notes on her clipboard and switching out to another sheet following. Lottie definitely seemed more content around her now than when we'd first left the car.

"L.  B.  Q.  um… M, maybe? And P." I had never had my eyes tested before - glasses seemed a bit of a luxury in our house and my sister only got them after she'd graduated high school.  Even then, she paid for them herself.  Still, I was unsure about the whole glasses thing; glasses always made people look geeky and those were the kinds of kids picked on in high school. "I'll be in eighth grade this year."

"Alright, I'm going to write up your prescription and make sure I've got your lenses here. Why don't you and your Mama have a look at the frames over by the wall and see if there's anything you like?" She pressed a lever on the foot of the stool and it lowered down enough so that her feet actually touched the ground now. It wasn't anything major, just a little long sightedness and a slight astigmatism in her right eye; nothing that couldn't be corrected.

Emma was shorter than me, and while I was at first a little put off by that, her age was far more apparent than mine.  Cohen led me over to the frames on the walls and I frowned at the large selection.  There was nothing I liked, and of course, like every thirteen year old, I knew this without looking. "Glasses are lame.  I don't want any." The lollipop in my mouth had been gone for some time and now I was just nibbling on the stick.  It tasted very bad, though.

I fished another lollipop out of my purse to distract her, and then picked out a pair of frames with gently squared off edge and a narrow height; I wasn't too old to know what worked well, even today, and given she'd inherited my fashion sense I figured it was only fitting that she'd wear something like what I'd worn at her age. "These are a little hipster, but they're really cute. They have them in black, and red and plaid." I motioned to the other color options on the wall. "Try them on and look in the mirror."

I took the pair of glasses after replacing my lollipop and went over to the mirror.  Maybe it was because I was so used to seeing myself without glasses, but they seemed very out of place.  And they didn't even make my eyesight any better. "I really don't think I need glasses." I took them off and handed them back to Cohen with a frown.  This whole idea seemed stupid to me.

"Well, if you want Mom to keep buying you books to read and for you to be able to read them without getting a headache, you do." I smirked and she pouted, which seemed to be a very healthy mother/daughter dynamic. "Please humor me, gum-drop? We can get ice cream afterwards?" Her mood was a little lifted since my last offer of ice cream had been rebuffed, so there was every possibility she'd have a different answer. Teenagers were so moody!

"Fine.  But not these ones.  I just don't like them." Or the next six pairs.  And by the time Emma had finished getting my lenses prepared, I still hadn't picked a frame. "These ones are just dumb.  Can't I get contacts or something?" Though the idea of putting a little plastic dot on my eye wasn't any more appealing than wearing glasses… "Or get books with bigger words.  That sounds reasonable."

"You're the one who campaigned to be older," I smirked, though I kept my voice down for that one. "Are you sure you want to be reading books made for third graders?" And that was about the time that Emma came back over and handed the girl a pair of glasses; thin metal frames that framed rounded lenses, a dainty bridge across the nose and flexing arms for comfort. "These are very popular with girls your age, and you can order the frames on their website in whatever color you like; you just pick it out and they send them. Most girls take a pair of black or white ones on the day, and order a set of colored ones as well."

I picked up the glasses and put them over my eyes.  Again, they weren't anything special.  I looked in the mirror and fiddled with them on my face, then looked back to Cohen. "I hate glasses." Emma smiled, though, and so did Cohen.  I took the pair off my face and handed them to my mom. "I'm not gonna find any I like, you know."

"I suppose you won't. I mean, it's not like Emma just offered you a pair of frames in any color you like. I mean, you could have red or yellow or blue or green or orange or purple." I kept my tone whimsical and turned back to the wall, looking at the other frames that were all lined up as Emma wandered back behind the counter. It really was endearing just how much a thirteen year old girl she'd become in such a short amount of time. And now that I knew what I did, I wondered what her boy self would think about the pouting huffy little miss before me now.

I bit the lollipop in my mouth and took the pair of glasses again from Cohen before slipping them on my face.  It was strange - I could still see the framework even when they were on.  Wouldn't that be distracting?  I looked at myself in the mirror for a second time, trying to find something I liked about the glasses.  They were a little boring, but purple frames could make that interesting.  And they didn't make my face look fat or anything.  They could work… "They probably don't have my purple, huh…?"

"They probably don't, gum-drop, but you could ask Emma if you can see the colors they do have?" One thing I had learned so far, however, was that when it came to her color? There was no almost-close-enough. It had to be her purple. No compromise. Like a security blanket, she clung to that color in her worst times of need and though I didn't understand how strong she felt, I understood that she did, and that was enough.

I hurried over to Emma with mild excitement.  I hadn't worn anything in my purple today, so there was no hope of me comparing, but I was curious nonetheless.  It was like Cohen said - they probably wouldn't have it anyway. "Excuse me.  These ones… um… do they come in purple?" She nodded and took out a little box behind the counter with the sample frames.  These ones didn't have glass in them, though, and I couldn't help but think how useless that was.  I picked up one of the purple pairs - there were two, a lilac and a lavender; I chose the latter.  It wasn't my purple - maybe a shade or two too dark - but the shining surface was a bold metallic anyway.  Even if they did have my color, it wouldn't look right. "Can I borrow these?"

Emma nodded and smiled, casting a glance from Lottie to me and then going back to her work gently polishing out a lens sheet. She'd need to cut the lenses to shape, of course, but she needed to know the frames first. It was one of the benefits of a small town; everything had to be done in house which meant you didn't have to wait too long. I looked at Lottie as she came back over with the lavender frames. "What do you think?"

"They're nice." I fitted them over my face and realized, probably for the first time, what a heavy contrast the purple was to my hair.  Wow.  Still, I really liked the color, even if it wasn't mine. "How do I look?" The frames didn't have any lenses, which was awkward, but about as useful as the ones that did.  I still wasn't sure why I needed glasses when they barely did anything for me.

"Adorable. Are those the ones you want? You go and tell Emma if you want them and she can get your lenses cut while we go get ice cream from across the street." She really did look cute, though the purple lenses weren't the best match to her orange hair - it was a look I was sure I'd get used to. And a look that was distinctly her, as well.

"I'm not sure if I'm allowed to have them…" I took them off my face and looked them over. "I think they're from her display." The second lollipop was still in my mouth, and though it tasted pretty good, the idea of ice cream sounded far more enticing.  I still wasn't sold on the idea of getting glasses, but if Cohen said they were cute, they probably were.  Or was this another one of those Mom things?

"Well, we can get the ones in black or white now, and your purple ones will be here by the end of the week, I bet." She looked less impressed with this solution and pouted a little, but didn't offer any further protest. "Go on gum-drop, go tell Emma what you'd like." Lottie looked at me and pouted, but then clearly figured out that my telling her to do it was for the sake of her own self confidence and that she should probably do it.

Emma agreed to cut a black pair of glasses for me and ship the purple ones to my house.  She said it would take an extra few days versus getting them shipped there, but I wasn't sure how I'd feel about leaving the house again.  Once that was set, Cohen and I walked over to the ice cream parlor, which was only a few shops down the road.  I'd finished the second lollipop and had begun chewing on the stem to keep my thumb out of my mouth.  It was silly to still be so anxious and I knew it, but I couldn't help it the second we walked outside again.
 

Link to comment

46. I wanna go home.

We didn't tend to have big chain franchises out here, but it meant the places we did have were all pretty unique and friendly.  We walked into the ice cream parlor - with decor that could've been from the mid-fifties - and a young boy about sixteen smiled from behind the counter. "Hey Nate. How's your dad?" Nate's dad owned the parlor and everybody knew him, though being summer meant that Nate staffed a few days a week to help out. He was a fairly attractive teenage boy, too, with dark, chin-length hair with bangs. "He's good, Ms. Tovia, how's Mr. Roux?" I smiled, not bothering to correct the boy. "He's fine, Nate. This is our daughter, Charlotte." "Oh, cool. I didn't know you had a daughter." His eyes assessed the girl and he smiled that sort of cool, self-assured smile that only teenage boys could pull off. "Hey Charlotte. I'm Nate."

"Hi." I waved shyly and took a half step behind Cohen.  I wasn't good with new people, especially ones who were no doubt scrutinizing me and all the lies I'd put together.  He was taller than me, though, and that gave me a little bit of confidence.  Then again, he probably wasn't thirteen. "I want mint chocolate chip." I said it to Cohen, though, and not to Nate.

"You want a cup or a cone, cutie?" I gave Nate a look that spoke in a very particular non-verbal language that only Mom's were able to speak in that said 'she's 13, Nate!'. He smiled, but continued to look at my daughter, gently twirling the scoop in the water while he waited for the girl’s answer.

"Cup, please." I broke eye contact with the boy behind the counter, turning toward the rest of the room.  It was a very small parlor, no doubt, but it was nice; well, it was nice in an outdated milk bar kind of way.  It wasn't crowded, either, which settled my nerves just a touch.  I turned back to Nate and the ice cream bar, then up at the signs.  They sold coffee and donuts as well as ice cream and I quickly scanned for hot chocolate.  It would've been a bad combination with ice cream, but I was still curious.

Nate scooped two way-too-generous scoops of mint chocolate chip ice-cream into a cup, and then slipped a spoon into the green and slid it onto the counter, looking up at me next. "The usual for you, Ms. Tovia?" I nodded my head with a smile and looked at Lottie as her eyes scanned across the menu. Behind the counter, Nate did one scoop of hokey-pokey and one scoop of pistachio fudge.

"Didn't you move here when you were already married?" Cohen and I had sat down at one of the tables by the door, the paper stick having been replaced with the spoon from my ice cream. "Why does that kid give you and Emer… er… Dad different last names?" I really had to be more careful with things like that in public.  It was also a little strange having called Nate a kid when he was clearly older than me.  I really needed my perspectives changed.

"Well, we both had our respective jobs before we were married. Not here, of course; in Chicago. But I've always been Dr. Tovia and your Dad has always been Mr. Roux. When we got married, it kinda stuck. Most people here call us Tovia-Roux, though - it's just those who know us in professional settings that sometimes stick to those names." The ice cream here was wonderful, one of my favorite things about living out here: creamy and delicious and just the perfect amount of flavor. I liked this. I loved it. Sitting here with my daughter, eating ice cream.

The bell behind me rang and, like any time a bell rings behind you, I looked.  Two police officers stepped in and went up to Nate at the counter.  My face lost all it's color.  I stopped eating my ice cream and instead just bit my spoon, doing my best to look away from the pair.  My stomach sank and all the fear I'd left behind outside had followed me in like a warm breeze.  The spoon snapped in my jaw, breaking off a little plastic shard.  I was trembling…

My hand slid across the table and I squeezed Lottie's hand with a smile, mouthing 'relax' to my daughter. Nate laughed and spoke with the officers, serving up a bag of donuts and turning to prepare some cups of coffee. They were talking about something mundane - a car of college kids that had been speeding through the woods and they'd caught - the sort of things that made news around here. Lottie stayed fixated on my eyes and I kept squeezing her hand; she had to calm down. One of the officers - Deputy Savannah looked over at us and tipped his hat. I smiled and turned back to Lottie. Relax. Calm. Please!

I couldn't do this.  The fear was striking and my chest wouldn't stop pounding.  I couldn't breathe, and if I started breaking down in tears they'd take me away.  They'd send me back.  I felt hysterical.  Paranoid.  Broken.  I couldn't handle it.  I couldn't.  So I climbed up out of my chair and left the parlor, hurrying as fast as I could down the street.  I didn't run - I wasn't stupid - but I couldn't calm down.  It felt like my chest was going to explode and I quickly built up a sweat.  Maybe I was dying…

The two officers looked at me as I stood up and smiled. "Everything okay, Dr. Tovia?" I took care of the police K9 Unit, hence the formality. "She's our daughter, just arrived from Chicago. She has some anxiety issues around new people. I'm sorry." "S'quite alright, my sister’s got a kid tha's just the same. You need our help?" "No thank you, it's fine." I smiled appreciatively and quickly left the parlor, chasing down my daughter to catch up.

Just before reaching Cohen's car, she caught my arms and spun me around.  I couldn't stop crying.  I couldn't even talk.  She just held me in her arms and played with my hair, rubbing my back, and cooing softly. "I… I'm sorry… d..don't know what happened… j..just wanna go home… please, I wanna go home…" I sounded so pathetic…

I knew we had things to do, had to pick up her glasses, had to do some grocery shopping, planned to buy her some cute accessories for her hair, but none of that mattered compared to her sobs and pleas. I nodded and smiled and held her close to me as we approached my car, my hand only leaving her side to open the door and help her inside. How harrowing it must have been to see police officers, to not know how much they knew or what they might do. I wanted to lift that burden off her shoulders so very badly…

I didn't say a word once we got in the car, my chest still aching and pounding as the rest of my anxiety died down.  I didn't take my thumb out of my mouth even as we left the car and entered Cohen's home.  Emerson was cooking dinner, but I wasn't hungry.  I left both of my parents downstairs and went up to my room to change into my pajamas.  I would never leave the house again, and although that statement wasn't true, I managed to make it four more days.
 

Link to comment

47. I don’t want to go.

"Your glasses came today." They weren't expected to arrive so soon, but Emma had called me when my wife hadn't returned to her store and I filled her in on the events, so I suppose she put a rush on them. I handed the little soft pouch to Charlotte as she gingerly refined her track layout on the table in the basement. Compared to the amount of space afforded, the twelve feet of track that her first kit had came with seemed lacking, but we'd build on it over time. Her special order locomotive, however, was yet to arrive, much to my disappointment. We didn't talk much about her life before, or about the fact that I now knew that my daughter could've once been my son, but we bonded over moments like this. "How have you been feeling since then?"

I shrugged my shoulders.  Emotional distance was too much of an effort with both Emerson and Cohen, so I tended to be honest.  That was probably why I followed up with, "Afraid.  I don't like going places now.  I don't want to feel that way again, with my chest hurting." It really was unbearable, and while we'd talked about it a lot since then, I still had no inclination to bring it about.

"Well, school isn't for a while yet, so there's no pressure. But perhaps you might want to come for a drive with me, tonight? I need to visit the Walmart, but as they're open all the time we could go as late in the night as you like, so nobody is around. It could be a good baby step for you." It was a poor choice of wording; with everything she'd told me about what happened in the facility - most of which explained her bedwetting four nights out of the week - I was careful not to make her feel too much younger than the thirteen we'd agreed on.

I shook my head, fiddling with the little train car.  My glasses had blocked the track. "I don't want to go to school.  I like it here…" All those fears I'd had before had come back again and again over the past few days, and the idea of going through what I had in the ice cream parlor was unbearable without an escape.  I wasn't afraid of being sent back anymore.  I was afraid of getting Cohen and Emerson in trouble…

"Why don't you try your glasses on? Your Mom said you got them in purple. Would you like to show me?" I chose my wording in ways that mirrored how I'd speak to a child at school, trying to reach in and trigger some moment of attention. She didn't seem too enthused to bite, though, still fiddling with her train with a look of concentration on her face. It was obvious she never wanted to leave the house, and perhaps didn't want to leave this room.

I grabbed the little pouch the glasses were in and opened it up.  The glasses were identical to the ones at the store except these ones actually had lenses.  I put them on and looked up at Emerson with a small half-smile.  He gave me a compliment I barely heard and I returned to my trains.  Wow, they really did help… a lot more than the ones at the store did.  I couldn't tell when looking at Emerson across the room but the trains were vivid in detail.

"They look very cute on you." She didn't acknowledge the compliment, though, instead fixating on the trains again. "Please don't be afraid, Charlotte. You know that your mother and I won’t let anybody take you back to that dreadful place. I know you're scared, but you can trust us both to take care of you. You're our daughter, and we love you very much."

Emerson didn't understand.  No one did, but how could they?  My going back would be terrible, I knew, but it would be nothing next to getting Cohen and Emerson in trouble.  If they went to prison for me… no.  They were a happy, wholesome family before I came.  They had a house and jobs and had done nothing wrong but try to take care of a girl in need.  They couldn't be blamed.  But they would be… I felt sick again and shook my head.

"Nate asked about you, today." Usually, telling my daughter about a boy that was curious about her would be the last thing on my mind, but I was trying my best to find something to spark her interest. It was just something else that didn't even phase the girl, though; her entire world was the train and the track. And I guess that was okay, but it wasn't healthy beyond a temporary coping method. "So Walmart tonight?"

"I really don't wanna go…" I appreciated Emerson's attempts - I appreciated Cohen's too - but after spending four days saying "I don't want to", I was starting to get a little annoyed.  I was their child, though, for all intents and purposes, and it made sense they would be concerned.  Still, I wished I could help them understand…

"What's the worst that could happen, my sweet angel? We're unlikely to see anybody else outside of the staff at the store." She looked up at me with almost… contempt, and then went back to her trains. It was something though. "Is there something else you're worried about? Share with me, child. I can't help you with your fears if you don't talk to me about them. Help me understand so I can help?"

I didn't answer, though, and Emerson had been freezed out enough by me to understand what that meant.  He sighed and shook his head, leaving me alone with my trains in the basement.  Things were getting bad again.  Cohen and Emerson would fight more and more and I'd exhaust them with my stubbornness in leaving the house.  I wasn't sure what would happen if it continued, but it wouldn't have been good.  We ate dinner, though I barely did, and I went to bed right after despite the offer to watch a movie with my family.  I had a lot to think about…

"Maybe she needs to see a counsellor. Somebody to help her understand what's going on in her life. She's been through a lot." I was sitting at my chair in my office, and Cohen was standing in the doorway. She shook her head quickly. "She's a fugitive, Emerson." "I know, but confidentiality means they can't turn her in." Cohen paused in thought and sighed. She knew I was right. "Do you really think so?" "She's had her entire identity stolen, her gender changed, and then tossed into a life in constant fear of repercussions." Cohen sighed and nodded. "I'll go talk to her. Maybe bring up the idea of someone she can talk to."

Link to comment

48. I’ll be back soon.

I played with my phone in my hands, my back on the bed.  I hadn't changed into my pajamas and I wasn't sure I was going to.  Cohen came in a second later, but I didn't look up.  It was always easy to tell which of the two entered my room - Cohen tended to open the door a lot faster than Emerson which caused it to squeak.  "I'm sorry…" I wiped the tears from my eyes, still staring at the ceiling.

"What for, gum-drop? It's okay, I know this stuff is hard." I sat down on the bed next to her, though, and I knew something was amiss. Her phone in her hand. Her tears that only got worse as I sat down, and the fact she wouldn't even look at me. She fidgeted with the phone, turning it over and over until I put my hand on hers and spoke very calmly. "Gum-drop… is everything okay?"

"I… um…" It would come out anyway - what was done was done. "I called the police…" Cohen's eyes went wide and looked at the phone in my hands. "I'm sorry… I'm really sorry, but… but it's better this way.  And I told them you didn't know the truth - that you thought I was a victim, not a criminal.  And you won't be charged, and… and I'll be back soon.  I promise…" But I couldn't stop crying.  Though even this, the thought of being taken away, was nothing to the thought that Cohen would be convicted for helping me.

I felt panic rise up my chest, catching in my throat as I wrapped my arms around the girl and cuddled her close as I could manage to my chest. "Oh, gum-drop, no. Please no. It'll be okay, it will. Come on now, we have to get you dressed now, pack light ~ we don't have much time." It was all I could think of to do was to run, to run and run and run and run and never look back.

I shook my head, still avoiding eye contact. "I… I can't.  They'll be here soon… and… and I'm gonna go with them.  If I vanish now, you'll both be in so much trouble.  I'm not going to do that… I won't.  I'll be out soon, Mom.  I promise.  And I'll be here and we can be happy and never have to worry again." I felt dizzy, though.  They'd take me back… they'd punish me.  More punishments… I couldn't even imagine.  But I'd done wrong by Jaime and I wasn't about to do wrong by Cohen and Emerson, too.  Just as my speech finished, red and blue lights flashed through the blinds outside. "I'm… gonna go…"

"It doesn't have to be this way, gum-drop!" I didn't realize how hysterically I was crying as I wrapped my arms around her body. At some point Emerson opened the front door, and I'd later have a recollection that he tried to argue with them, to cover things up and the police would eventually tell him to step out of the way. And when they came upstairs, when they peeled me off my daughter and pulled her away from me, she didn't say a word. She looked away and kept her eyes on her feet as I sobbed and screamed. She was my little girl. She was mine. Emerson shouted after them, his own composure broken; one of the officers having to hold him back against the wall as we both watched our child taken away.
 

  • Like 1
  • Sad 1
Link to comment
22 hours ago, Everlyn Ashley Harding said:

NONONONONO. I NEED MY FIX OF LOTTIE! HOW WILL I SURVIVE. I NEED TO READ THE REST!!!

 

22 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

I think that's great, you have been working so hard the last eww weeks that you and Pudding deserve a vacation for yourself .  I hope you have a great  time and look forward to the end of this story.  I can honesty say that when it ends I will really miss it.  I have come to love all three of the people in their own way.:wub:

Thanks both of you for being such loyal readers!  I posted a TON of chapters today to try to tide you over.  I'm sorry for the spot I left it on, but you wouldn't believe me if I told you any part past this is much, much worse to leave you for a week.  I'll finish posting everything on the 19th or 20th when I get home.  

Have a wonderful week! :D 

~Sophie

Link to comment
2 hours ago, Sophie ♥ said:

 

Thanks both of you for being such loyal readers!  I posted a TON of chapters today to try to tide you over.  I'm sorry for the spot I left it on, but you wouldn't believe me if I told you any part past this is much, much worse to leave you for a week.  I'll finish posting everything on the 19th or 20th when I get home.  

Have a wonderful week! :D 

~Sophie

I couldn't wait. I've subscribed to your Patreon. And am now reading every story I can find!

Link to comment

right now my heart is broken and I am so afraid of what is going to happen to Lottie.  If she will be reduced to being a baby for the reat of her stay and never recovering from it.  What ever happens to her her I hope she returned to those that love her:(

Link to comment
  • 2 weeks later...

49. I can be perfect.

"Oh now, Lottie. The one who got away." The Headmistress paced behind her desk as the orderlies set the girl down on the sofa and stood guard close by. "Do you know how much trouble you've caused me here? Your stunt put our entire operation in jeopardy, and things were already disappointing with you after your performance as a Second." The girl didn't seem at all afraid, though, and that bothered the Headmistress immensely; she was used to people fearing her. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Lottie? Anything to excuse your misconduct? Any pleas to make before you're given your punishment?"

I shook my head.  The car ride north gave me a lot of time to think, and though I missed Cohen and Emerson a lot already, I knew this was for the best.  I spent most of my time trying to figure out why I'd gone through the troubles of escaping just to turn myself in again, and I think I finally figured it out.  When I ran away, I was running toward nothing.  I had myself to take care of and I didn't care about anything else.  I never imagined I'd find something that meant more than me out there in the world… "I made a mistake.  I wanna finish the program here and be the best person I can be…"

She looked amused, sharing a glance with one of the orderlies before crossing the room and sitting on the opposite sofa. "Oh, poor naive Lottie. You don't just get to go back into the program where you left off now. You must be punished for your behavior. No, you'll be going into Phase Zero. You'll spend an indefinite amount of time in diapers and a crib, completely forgetting who you are and who you were. And perhaps if we need a filled-in space in Phase One sometime in the future, we'll promote you up. But don't count on it."

I didn't understand.  Phase Zero was always a myth I'd heard about as a First and Second, and I'd heard it was the worst punishment you could get, but no one knew what it was.  People would just disappear.  And, admittedly, when I called the police, I knew I'd get put into Phase Zero.  But she said the word indefinite… and that I simply couldn't get my head around. "What… are you talking about?" I shook my head back and forth. "No… I…  I'm saying I'll be good.  And cooperate.  And graduate.  And… and everything.  I'm gonna listen!  Do what I'm told!"

The Headmistress smirked and shook her head. "Oh my dear, you had your chance to do that. You were given your opportunity to be good, to cooperate and listen. But you escaped and have been marked down in our system as a failure. And there's only one place for our failures." She stood up, smiling sadistically as she delivered the news. "You'll be given a shot that makes it hard to think about anything too complex, and then you'll be put in a crib, in a room with many other cribs; our other failures. And you might be there for a day, or a month or a year or ten. It doesn't matter. You're a failure, Lottie."

I shook my head, breathing heavily, trying to wrap my head around it.  This wasn't right… this wasn't happening… "That's not true, though!  I'm not a failure!  If… if anything, my leaving only made me more determined to get through this program!  If anything, I was a failure before!  A failure with Cass!  But not now!  I'm determined!  I wanna go back into the program!"

"Yes, well, you should have considered that before you put the program in jeopardy. Do you consider yourself a better person now, than you were when you were a boy, Lottie?" The girl looked taken aback, and the Headmistress continued. "So do most of the patients here. Do you know what would happen if we got shut down, Lottie? It means nobody would get to become better people. No more second chances. All because you decided you knew better, and you threw the gift we gave you back in our faces." She picked up the girl’s file and shook her head.

"I… I'm really sorry…" I hadn't known.  I was just trying to save myself.  Without Clara, and with the way Cass was to me, I was in my own personal Hell when I was here.  But I didn't think it through.  I shouldn't have left.  I shouldn't have tried.  I was naive and reckless and… "Please… please let me show you what I can do?  I can be useful.  I can be perfect.  Please… don't keep me here… I wanna get out… I wanna graduate…"

"And what makes you think we want you to graduate? We want to sell success stories here, Lottie. You know you're the first person to ever escape from Mt. Calibeen? There have been numerous attempts, of course. And the closest to actually escaping were put into Zero as well. Why should you be given anything better?" She flipped through the file, continuing to speak as she skimmed the paperwork. "What can you offer me to make me not want to throw you in Zero for the rest of your pathetic existence?"

"I… I don't know… I don't know…" I shook my head, tears running down my cheeks.  I couldn't stay here forever, though.  I promise Cohen a year.  I'd be back in a year.  That's all the time I had, and… and this couldn't happen.  She couldn't do this. "Please… please don't… please don't keep me here… please…"

"Pathetic child. Do you understand what you've done here? The old Headmistress was dismissed as a result of your actions. Our facility nearly shut down, hundreds of people out of work, and even more troubled young girls not given the chance to have their redemption. What do you have that makes you special enough to be given another shot? Your alcoholic mother wants nothing to do with you, your father hasn't been on the scene your entire life, and your sister, your friends? They've forgotten you already. What are you fighting for? You have nothing to return to." It wasn't like her to be as cruel as her words were, but she was really very unhappy at the results of this girl’s actions.

"I… I have…" I looked down at my bare feet.  I hadn't had a chance to put shoes on as I was escorted out of the house. "I have friends… people I met, when I left.  And they're why I'm here…" I wouldn't get them in trouble - I knew better. "They didn't know my background, and… they were still so nice.  I was a stranger.  And I just… I wanna be back in their lives again.  I told them what happened after I called the police to pick me up… and they still want me around when I get out…"

"Oh yes, the couple who harbored you." She looked to the file and read the names of the paper. "Mr. and Mrs. Tovia-Roux. And do you think these friends would want anything to do with you if they knew who you were?" Lottie bit her lip and her thumb went to her lips as the Headmistress turned away. "It would be impossible to reintegrate you as a Second at any rate. The program doesn't work that way. Guards." I nodded to the orderlies and they approached the girl from the door.

I shook my head and quickly stood up, hurrying away from the two orderlies who moved toward me. "No, no, no!  I mean!  I'll be a First!  I don't care, I don't!  Please, please, don't do this!" The orderlies grabbed me around the arms and I whimpered in discomfort.  They held me just on my toes, my arms pulled backward, one held in place by each of them. "Please, Headmistress… please… I'm so sorry…" I was still crying, shaking my head.  I had to get out of this.  I'd promised Cohen and Emerson…

"I have a responsibility to the public, and to my investors. There's simply no way I can allow it." She turned away and pulled a cigarette out of her top drawer, lighting it and leaning back to watch the girl struggling against the guards. She did admire the girls tenacity; her escape had taught them valuable lessons about the security practices here and her voluntary return had shown a true integrity. But she was a problem the Headmistress couldn’t afford.
 

Link to comment

50. Please.

I whimpered and kicked my feet, doing my best to pull away from the orderlies, thrashing as hard as I could.  It was all futile, though, and it got me nowhere. "Please!  Please, let me go!  I… I'll… do anything… just… I… I have to get out of here… I'll do anything… please…" I couldn't stop crying, couldn't stop begging.  This wasn't happening.  I'd promised… I had to…

The orderlies continued to drag the girl down the hall, but by the time she was out of sight of the Headmistress's office, she stopped struggling; her energy slipping away into heaving sobs as she was led down various corridors and set down in a room with a bed in the center. On the left wall was a window viewing what might have been a nursery. There were a dozen cribs, about half of them containing a girl, each of them wearing vacant smiles and expressions, all in diapers and very little else. The orderly to her left spoke clear. "Sit on the table. The doctor will be with you shortly." The two of them left, closing the door behind them and leaving the girl alone with the only the window into her new future.

"Can't happen… it just… it can't… I gotta get out…" But the door was locked.  The window was just a sheet of glass.  There was nothing to throw, nothing to break.  The cabinets were locked, the mattress was bolted to the bed and the bed was bolted to the floor.  This wasn't happening.  This couldn't be right.  I shook my head again and again.  Just needed another chance.  I had to talk to her.  I could convince her.  I could offer her something.  There had to be something she wanted…

It wasn't too long before the door clicked open and a man entered; a doctor judging by his attire, which only made sense. He smiled and looked at the chart in his hand. "Hello, Lottie. My name is Charles. If you'll take a seat please I need to give you a short examination to ensure you're a proper candidate for Phase Zero." The girl didn't take a seat, though, and he smiled again. "Please? On the bed, if you don't mind. The sooner we get this underway, the sooner we can administer your shot."

I shook my head. "I don't want it.  I'm not a good candidate.  This is just… she's being… vengeful.  I want to talk to… a board of… trustees or something!  Someone above the Headmistress!  She's just mad because she could get fired, but I'm different, and I don't want this!  I just want to go back into the program and graduate.  Please, please, please… please help me…"

"I'm afraid I don't have the authority to discuss that business, Lottie. I'm just here to make sure you're in good physical health, to give you a shot, and to get you properly attired." He motioned once more to the bed. "Please sit down, or else I'll have to call for the orderlies. You've nothing to be afraid of, either; being a Zero is blissful. No cares, no worries, no stress. Just simple happiness. Isn't that what everybody wants?"

I shook my head and wiped the tears from my cheeks. "No, no, no, no, no, no…" The doctor sighed and looked at me, clipboard in his hand. "I don't want bliss… I want out of here.  I want to see my family again.  I want to graduate.  I want to be a good girl!  I'm not healthy.  I'm… very unhealthy.  I have… vision problems…" I couldn't stop crying or shaking, though, I think for once, I really didn't want to. "Please…"

He sighed and called out loud enough to be heard. "Orderlies." The door opened and the two men from earlier came in, quickly securing the girl to the bed so the doctor could begin his examination. Nothing too invasive. Heart rate, blood pressure, and a few vials of blood drawn. She didn't stop yelling and thrashing the entire time, but the orderlies never weakened their hold on her. "This would be easier if you'd stop struggling."

It was difficult to crane my neck in the right way, but I looked up at both the orderlies in turn. "Please… please tell someone… I wanna be good.  I wanna help… and… and I wanna cooperate… please tell someone to get me out of here…" The doctor took my blood and packaged the vials, putting them on the counter top by the cabinets. "Please let me go… I just wanna be a First again…"

The doctor prepared a large needle and smiled, looking down at the girl as one of the orderlies pulled up her sleeve. "Don't fret, Lottie. Soon you won't want anything. You'll be content to lay in your crib and play with your toes, and not even the putrid smell of your shit-filled diaper will concern you." Clearly the words of a man who'd been made to change one too many adult diapers in his time. He lined the needle up to her arm and pushed, piercing the skin and resting his thumb on the plunger. "Sweet dreams."
 

Link to comment

Intermission: Part 1

"What do you mean 'here to see me'?  It's one in the morning?" "I'm not sure, Miss.  They said it was important, though." She sighed and put her hands on her temples.  Like today wasn't stressful enough with that little twit… "I'm not interested." "It's about that runaway girl." Someone was here about Lottie?  It wouldn't be a board member, not this late. "Fine, send them in.  Guards, too."

Emerson and I had agreed in concept that he'd do the talking, but there was no force in Heaven or on Earth that could have kept my mouth shut when we walked into the office. The woman behind the desk stood up to greet us both, but I was at her desk before she got a word out. "I'm Cohen Tovia-Roux, and I'd like you to release Charlotte into my care." Emerson stood behind me, with the guards a ways behind him. I decided I didn't like this woman. Still, my words were well-chosen and curt, but firm and direct.

She raised an eyebrow and took a seat, leaning back in her chair with a small smile.  So, Cohen Tovia-Roux - Lottie's friend. "You do know Lottie-" Wait, did she call her Charlotte? "-is a criminal, right?  And you do know that this is a licensed penitentiary?  Allowing someone to go from this facility is the same as allowing an inmate to leave prison." Was she an idiot?

"After she left, we found a note in her room, explaining everything." I was careful not to implicate us and risk being convicted of abetting a criminal; Lottie wouldn't want that. "So yes, I know who she was and I know what she did. And I also know that she's not that person, anymore. She's a sweet, kind, polite and gentle girl who wants nothing more than to live a normal life. She wrote of how you rebuild people like her into better members of society. Well, that's what you've done. She has a life waiting for her with us; she's due to start the school year at the end of the summer. She's well-liked in the community, she has friends. Isn't that what you want? To reform these people?"

"Of course, Mrs.… Tovia-Roux, right?" The Headmistress didn't stand up or change her demeanor in the slightest.  She wasn't interested in what Mrs. Tovia-Roux or her husband had to say. "But breaking the law and fleeing this facility is the opposite of what a reformed member of society would do, don't you agree?  If Lottie really wanted to reform, really was the girl you claimed she was, then she would've finished her term here.  But she failed.  She took our sympathy and threw it back at us, and that murderer was lucky she got a second chance.  We won't make the same mistake."

"She also turned herself back in, or did you forget that?" I could feel myself getting agitated, and Emerson gently stood in front of me, putting his hand on mine to calm me. "What my wife means to say is that Charlotte has shown a true desire to reform, and her first step in doing that was to surrender herself here to your mercy. But having read her letter, we're led to wonder if there's anything more your facility can offer her?" I didn't like this place. I disagreed with everything it stood for, and every single bit of its methodology. But that opinion wouldn't get us very far, so I kept it to myself. "She's so very far removed from the acts she committed. And wasn't that your goal?"

"It was, certainly." The Headmistress had a small smile form on her lips. "But that isn't our objective anymore.  Her returning to us was an inevitability - it's something we teach all of our patients at one point or another.  But having fled in the first place?  She never planned to reform, Mr. Tovia-Roux.  If she had, she wouldn't have left.  She embarrassed the facility, and we don't take kindly to those who fail us.  We had high hopes, it's true.  She had one of the best mentors we'd seen in this place.  And for her to throw it all away… well, we can't let anyone that deluded out in the real world."

"Clara? You mean Clara, right? Her mentor? She taught her well, taught her honesty and integrity, compassion and thoughtfulness. That boy that got drunk and decided to drive? That's not her. That's not our daughter." I stopped after that, the Headmistress regarding me curiously with a slight smile on her lips. It was something we'd decided not to talk about; our adopted family dynamic - it would only complicate things and I'd already said too much. Emerson spoke up, as if to draw attention from the slip up. "Please. Release her to us under probation. We're both pillars of our local community; I teach at the school and Cohen is a veterinarian. We lead a simple life with good morals and solid values. In our care, Charlotte can thrive and grow."

Their daughter?  And if they knew Clara by name, they might know everything.  And if they knew everything, I had very little ammunition to play with. "I will do no such thing.  Lottie has not only broken the law once, but again by fleeing her sentencing.  She will be adequately punished, and if she completes the program, she'll be released as any other inmate would.  Until then, I can't do anything for you."

"In sixteen-eighty-nine, the English Parliament declared that no prisoner would ever be subject to punishments of a cruel or unusual nature. In seventeen-ninety-one, this very same provision was written into the Eighth Amendment to the United States Constitution." I leaned forward onto the desk and looked across at the Headmistress. "I understand that your operation may be sanctioned right now, but just how willing do you think the United States Judicial System will be to back your project if they knew that you were advocating the sexual abuse of your inmates?" She looked cocky, like she had a statement to make, something to shut me down; so I continued quickly. "Charlotte wrote of Cass. And of the countless other instances of senior inmates sexually abusing the newly arrived inmates. Do you think, Madam Headmistress, that this will go down well?"

"Well, I assure you Mr. Tovia-Roux, we here at Mt. Calibeen Reformatory do not advocate sexual abuse.  If any complaints ever arise of sexual abuse, we make sure to handle it personally.  That being said, Cass was severely punished for her transgressions against Lottie and recently one other patient.  And while we are on the topic, your daughter’s current punishment is not cruel in any regard.  If anything, it is the opposite." She finally leaned forward toward her desk and looked Mr. Tovia-Roux in the eye. "I suggest you don't imply you understand how this place works.  I am the Headmistress of this facility and nothing gets by me."

"Justice William Brennan wrote, with regards to cruel and unusual punishment that: 'The function of these principles, after all, is simply to provide means by which a court can determine whether a challenged punishment comports with human dignity.'" I paused for a moment before looking at the orderlies, and then at my wife, before turning my gaze back to the Headmistress. "Taken to the Supreme Court, are you willing to justify and defend yourself that your methods - which include procedures tantamount to irreversible body mutilation and psychological abuse, are not an affront to human dignity?" Cohen chimed in, "Let us have her. Let us have Lottie. And you'll never hear from us again."

The husband was smart, and that was annoying.  The wife, on the other hand, was incredibly easy.  And while she didn't want to fan one while snuffing the other, it seemed like that was her only choice.  The wife was clearly the weak chain in their link, and that the Headmistress could use. "Okay.  You can have Lottie on the condition she agrees to go with you." Realistically, she had no way how to get around the paperwork to allow that to happen, but just as equally, she knew for a fact that Lottie wouldn't recognize either of the parents. "You two.  Bring Lottie to room 104 please."
 

Link to comment

Intermission: Part 2

Cohen smiled, but I shook my head and slammed my hand down on the edge of the desk. "After she wrote of hypnosis, manipulation, control? Do you expect I don't know what it is you people do?" She looked at me with a crooked smile, and Cohen tugged on my arm. "Emerson, come on…" I shook my head. "If a punishment is substantially rejected by contemporary society, and if there is no reason to believe that it serves any penal purpose more effectively than some less severe punishment, then the continued infliction of that punishment violates the command of the Clause that the State may not inflict inhuman and uncivilized punishments upon those convicted of crimes." I stood up straight and shook my head. "You know as well as I do, Madam, that this facility will not pass this criteria. You will draft up paperwork that stipulates you will return Lottie to us in the same state as the day she was collected from our property. You will annul her of her crimes and you will agree not to pursue further action. And in return, we will sign away our voice to a non-disclosure agreement." Cohen looked at me with a little sense of awe on her face; she'd never seen Emerson so determined. Not like this.

The Headmistress was not amused by Mr. Tovia-Roux and got to her feet shortly after.  She was only an inch or so shorter than him. "Excuse me.  Our facility has been accepted as an alternate method of reform, and each and every person here signs a contract to this place versus prison.  The contracts specify which rights they give up on our premises and, as a matter of fact, our full program has had a one hundred percent success rate.  Look at Lottie.  She graduated from no more than half of the program and look how much she has changed.  If you're going to make an argument against us, Mr. Tovia-Roux, you better make a better one than that.  And if you plan to sue, I hope you're prepared to lose everything you have.  Not just your make-believe daughter."

"Is holding onto one young girl worth the risk to you? Whether we win or not, Madam, we will go to the press from the word go and you'd better believe that the inquests that follow will make it impossible for you to defend your methodology, contracts or no. If your facility is able to continue operating at all, you'd better believe that they'll call for a scapegoat in this scandal. And who do you think that will be? Are you willing to lose everything? Because we are." It wasn't strictly my decision to make, but I knew that if anything, Cohen would agree with me even more vehemently on the stance than I'd already taken.

Well. "I can't erase her record." It was plain and simple.  She ran a facility, not a strip club.  Lottie was a convict, and despite the little battle she was having with Lottie's pseudo-father, there was very little she could do.  She knew the contracts held up brilliantly in court and they certainly wouldn't be shut down, but she was still having issues with the publicity side of things.  Her trump card had waylaid the program for a year, now, and until she graduated she had nothing she could publicize.  Using a convict's information wasn't legal, even in contract, during their time of incarceration, and that was why I needed that girl.  Lottie, though, was expendable.  There weren't any loop holes, though.

"File her death certificate." "I can sign off on it as a suicide. It sucks, but it happens in prison all the time. You can bury it so far in red tape that it won't ever see the light of day." I looked at Cohen with a smile, completely and utterly proud of her in that moment. "Her family isn't expecting her on the other end, Madam. She won't be missed, and you'll never hear from us again."

It was such an appealing concept.  And if this place wasn't monitored like a CIA building she would've killed the little bitch herself - she was more trouble than she was worth. "You'd be surprised.  We've never had a death here and hers would be investigated to the fullest extent." She decided not to mention the fact that Lottie had no way of actually killing herself in this moment - to the contrary, she was happy. "She can't run from her past, Mr. and Mrs. Tovia-Roux.  Out there, in the world with you, she'll always be unhappy in one regard or another.  But that's not the case here.  I understand our methods are extreme, but we get results.  And for those we can't get results with, we keep safe and happy, like Lottie is now.  Taking her away from that is selfish."

"Do you know what will make her happy and safe? Being with us and not having to worry every minute of every day about being caught and taken back here. But do you know what she worried about more than that? She worried about us getting caught for helping her. Help us… help us give her the life she needs. She's smart and witty and adaptable and determined. Have you even talked to her since she got back here..?" I wanted for Cohen to finish before offering my input. "Graduate her out."

"That'll take a minimum of a year and a half.  Each graduate is assessed by a panel specific to that level.  All dates are electronic.  And her Zero time is a minimum of six months." The Headmistress was quite bored, now.  If it were up to her, she'd let Lottie out just to end this conversation.  But that wasn't the way things worked here. "There's nothing I can do, and I'm sorry about that.  Maybe if you saw how happy she was, maybe you wouldn't be so inclined to take her out." She pointed to the door. "One-oh-four."

"It's not my problem how you get her out of here, Madam. But you've been warned what will happen if you don't." I was ready to walk out at that point, to make good on my threat, but Cohen tugged on my arm and looked at the Headmistress, and then the door. "I think I'd like to see her…" "Cohen, did you hear how eager she was to offer us to take Lottie 'if she agrees to go'? It's obvious they're playing games with her head. Are you sure you want to do this?" Cohen sighed and nodded, looking at the Headmistress. "I want to see my baby… she needs me."

She couldn't help but smile at the word 'baby' and pointed again to the door. "One-oh-four." Working around the husband seemed like it would be difficult, but the Headmistress still had a tactic she hadn't used yet.  One that would be far more potent after the couple viewed their daughter.  So the Headmistress followed the couple into the hall and then through the door marked 104.  In the center of the almost family like room, sat Lottie, dressed in only a diaper and a t-shirt, her eyes unfocused and glossy.  She had one thumb in her mouth and the other hand played with a pile of blocks an orderly had brought with her.
 

Link to comment

Intermission: Part 3

I closed my eyes when I walked through the door, preparing myself for what I might have seen, and when I opened them I felt a choking sob escape my lips as I darted into the room and threw my arms around Lottie. "Oh, gum-drop, sweetie, it's okay, I'm here, Mom's here, we're going to take care of this, we're going to get you out of here…" I was babbling almost incoherently, but it was like she didn't even notice I was there. Emerson turned to look at the headmistress and spoke in a very serous tone. "Fix her. Now."

The Headmistress smiled warmly, walking over to the girl on the floor and taking her hand. "These people wanna take you away from us and your blocks and your friends.  Would you wanna go with them?" It took Lottie a moment to shake her head, her thumb still in her mouth.  The Headmistress stood back up and smiled at Mr. Tovia-Roux. "You talked about how this place would need a scapegoat.  Her second trial is in three days.  One word about this place and I'll push for publicity rights on your daughter.  And we'll start our examples from there." It had never been an opportunity to try someone twice in the facility, and the Headmistresses was nearly sure she could get publicity no problem.

"Three days? Do you have any idea how many times this news will spread, Madam. We've got friends in the Chicago Press. From there it'll hit New York, Los Angeles, and then from there, every small town rag will run the story on the factory that's turning our countries men into this." I motioned to the girl sitting on the floor, Cohen still cuddling her and sobbing. "Stripping away their freedom of speech and sense of self. If the pressure from the outraged public isn't enough by then, how do you think things will go once the story goes international? And it will. Mark my words, it will. International political pressure on the US government from London, Asia, the European Union. Do you think that you can stand to that, Madam? In three days this place will be shut down ten times over."

"And when it does, your daughter goes to prison.  A real prison.  For men.  And if you think there's "sexual abuse" here, oh, Lottie's in for a real surprise.  And with her looking like that?  As cute and feminine as she is?" The Headmistress smiled. "More importantly, she'll be there for life.  And you'll never see her again - I'll make sure of that.  And we'll see what all your trouble is worth."

"When the backlash hits, these boys and girls will be seen as the victims. With the government so desperate to save face in the eyes of public opinion, locally and abroad, you and I both know that each and every inmate here will receive settlements. And you? You will be the one locked up. Will you go to jail for her?" I motioned to Lottie and kept my resolve, though her words had shaken me a little. I couldn't show it, though; I had to maintain my position of confidence.

"She killed a ten year old boy." The Headmistress spoke plain and simply.  She was done being coy - this was starting to bore her. "And even if she gets a settlement, she'll be in prison.  And it's up to you what you want to do, Mr. Tovia-Roux.  If you want to send her to a real prison, be my guest.  Or if you want her to stay here, happy, blissful-" She motioned to Lottie, who was now giggling and playing with Mrs. Tovia-Roux's bracelet, to make her point. "-that's your choice too. But I can't get her out.  There's nothing I can do."

"We'll see how much you can do when the shit hits the fan. Cohen, come on." She shook her head and cried, looking up at me and the Headmistress. "I'm not going… she needs me. I'm her Momma. She needs me now more than ever…" Patience, Emerson. She's just a little distraught. "Cohen. We have to go." "I'm going to stay… take care of her…" I couldn't do this, I couldn't fight the war on two fronts; I needed my wife on this, which is exactly why I suspected we'd been brought to this room. "Say hello to Da-da, Lottie." Cohen motioned to me and waved, Lottie giggling cutely and going back to her blocks. "Fix her. Fix her now."

The Headmistress only shrugged her shoulders. "There's nothing I can do.  Zero initiation and conclusion are overseen by a board and a doctor.  I'm an administrator." Lottie had taken to sucking on Mrs. Tovia-Roux's finger instead of her own thumb, using two hands to try to stack the blocks higher.  The Headmistress couldn't help but smile. "If you'd like a job here, Mrs. Tovia-Roux, we have positions available." The contracts going into that would shut her husband up.

Cohen looked up and continued to let the girl suck on her finger, biting her lip. "I'm technically a doctor, but I'm a Veterinarian by trade. I…" I couldn't believe that she was considering the offer and I raised my voice. "Cohen! You can't work for these people, this place is an atrocity." "And if it's the only way we can see our little girl?" "It's not. We'll get her out of here. We just have to be logical." "You heard what she said, Emerson… it's a prison, she can't just be let out." I couldn't do this without her, without Cohen by my side; I'd exhausted everything I had to give, everything I'd prepared on the drive up here. I didn't know what else to do...

The Headmistress smiled and spoke, and though her eyes never left Lottie's father, she was speaking directly to her mom. "Mrs. Tovia-Roux.  If you'd like a job, we could talk in my office.  Maybe have you start working by tomorrow?" It was always so easy to manipulate people with love - it was the same way she'd handled situations in the past.

Cohen looked at Lottie and smiled, looking back up at me and then at the Headmistress."I want to take care of her." "Cohen! If you do this, if you play her games, we lose. We lose Lottie. Do you want that? Do you want to stare at her train set downstairs every day and know we failed her? Want to get up in the morning and lament not having to change her bedsheets, look at her chair at the dining table, or the drawings she made? Do you want to know we failed her?" Cohen stood up and shook her head, storming up to me and looking up into my eyes as she yelled. "Dammit Emerson! Don't you get it? This is the only way. This is the only way! We tried. And we screwed it up. And now this is the only way to help her… if you cared, you'd work here too…" In the middle of the room came the sound of crying from Lottie, obviously spooked by all the yelling. I knelt down in front of her and wrapped my arms around her. She was my daughter, but we couldn't save her by siding with the enemy; didn't Cohen get that?

"I'll draw up the papers." The Headmistress was so pleased.  The standard stipulation in the contracts for all employees was that if they went against the facility's best interests in any way, they'd be admitted.  If Lottie wouldn't keep Mr. Tovia-Roux in line, his wife certainly would. "Lottie, would you like to come with us?" She looked blankly at Cohen, her eyes still red from the tears.  She hadn't expected an answer.

I lifted the girl up in my arms; as far as the look in her eyes indicated, she had no memory of who I was, no recollection. But she cuddled up to me all the same, almost subconsciously. I could feel the plastic of her diaper and the disconcerting warmth that made it clear she'd wet it, but I put those thoughts aside as I made my way toward the door. Cohen was gnawing on the knuckle of her index finger - and the last time I'd seen her doing that was the breakdown she'd had during her finals at school. She wasn't coping. I wasn't sure that I was, either.
 

Link to comment

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...