"We only wanted to make the world better. Better never means better for everyone. It always means worse for some."

-Commander Fred; from The Handmaid's Tale (2017)

Olive Hamilton was considered small, standing barely over five-feet two inches. She'd been told multiple times that her blue eyes were big and sorrowful. It didn't matter what Olive was feeling in a certain moment, her eyes always maintained that sorrowful look. Her copper brown hair was thick and curly, being dubbed "unmanageable" by Olive herself. On more than one occasion, she considered cutting her hair off, but she didn't want to deal with a shorter, even curlier mess of hair. Olive also had light brown skin, signs of a partial Native American ancestry. She wasn't exactly sure which tribe she belonged to, but she'd grown up on a Cherokee reservation in North Carolina, under the care of her foster parents, Ama and Waya. A lot of Olive's background was considered a mystery by her community, even herself. She didn't know who her birth parents were; she didn't know where she was born; no one had a clear idea of when her birthday was; she had no idea if she had biological siblings or not — Olive's entire life made absolutely no sense. The only things she knew were in the reservation, with her foster family. She grew up with two loving parents who weren't biologically hers. She grew up with three, older foster brothers who treated her as lovingly as foster brothers could. Olive grew up believing wholeheartedly that she belonged in the Cherokee tribe, even if she didn't know which tribe she truly belonged to. That was her reality.

For Olive, every time she found herself looking in a mirror, she'd be disappointed in what she saw. Every feature she had had to originate from someone. She originated from someone. But there was something about the whole being put into the system as an infant that made the twenty-one year old feel as though she wasn't good enough. She wasn't important. Olive's lack of knowledge on knowing her biological parents made her wonder what was so important about her. Her lack of knowing why her parents didn't want her made Olive feel as though she wasn't good enough for anyone. While her life with Ama and Waya had been amazing — Olive made a point of showing her foster parents just how much she loved them for raising her — there was that sense of emptiness that swirled around inside the young woman, and no amount of love and acceptance from her foster family or the community she grew up in would make it go away. That emptiness was an overwhelming sensation, almost suffocating. For Olive, she wanted to make it go away; she wanted to understand her own history, the one thing that nobody had the slightest clue on. Did she have any biological siblings, or was she an only child? Why did her real parents decide to throw her into foster care? Did they not want kids? Were they in a bad financial situation? What was it? How many times in Olive's life had she encountered her real parents without noticing?

That part always made her roll her eyes. Olive grew up in the North Carolina Cherokee reservation, and no one had an idea on which tribe she really belonged in. The chances of at least one of Olive's parents being from that reservation were slim.

For Olive Hamilton, she could look at herself for as long as she wanted, but it'd never give her the answers she desired. It would never fill the emptiness that grew inside her.

0_0_0_0

Ama and Waya Beck watched silently as Olive brought down various suitcases and backpacks. She decided to go on a road trip to do a little soul searching, announcing it weeks prior, stunning the couple. The couple knew that, one day, their foster daughter would want to go and see the world, to try and understand why things were the way they were. Maybe it would help her see herself a little more. Olive always expressed how she wanted to understand herself, to see herself in a new perspective. Ama, being the overprotective mother she was, didn't want to see her little girl leave; Waya was more accepting of Olive's decision than his wife. For Ama, all she wanted was to keep her daughter close by, to be there for her whenever possible. Waya and Olive thought of it as endearing yet smothering, but it didn't matter in the slightest what they said. It had been decades prior that Ama found out she was sterile, never to have biological children of her own. Years later, she and her husband decided to foster children, maybe even adopt. Their boys, Chayton, Elan, and Etu, had been the first set of children to be brought into their homes. Olive didn't come until a few years later. Of all the children the Beck couple fostered, only Chayton and Etu were legally adopted. Ama and Waya let the others decide for themselves what they wanted.

"You don't have to go," Ama said, her voice wavering. "You could stay a little longer if you want."*

Looking at her foster mother for a brief moment, Olive gave a small smile. "I want to do this," she responded. "I'll call, maybe even send a letter if I can."

"Whatever works for you," Waya said, his voice calm.

With a slight nod, the twenty-one year old gave a sheepish smile. Waya was always the more lenient parent, allowing a little more flexibility compared to Ama's stern nature. But that didn't mean Waya didn't have boundaries for his kids. He allowed his children to experience things, but within the confines of what would be considered morally, legally, and ethically right. He wanted them to be aware that certain actions they did had certain consequences, and if they went down a road that they knew didn't end well, it'd be on them. No one else's fault but theirs. And Waya understood that Olive's need for the road trip was for self-discovery and seeing the world.

"I'm hoping this trip will be a couple weeks at most," Olive explained, "I'll call if there are any troubles. How does that sound?"

"That's fine, I suppose," Ama murmured. "But you'll be careful, right?"

"Of course." The twenty-one year old gave her foster mother a playful look. "Quit worrying so much, Ammy. I'll be just fine."

"Just let her go, sweetie." Waya gently nudged his wife's shoulder. "She'll be fine. Don't you trust her?"

"Of course I do. I just...I'm not comfortable with this."

"Let her do this. It's important for her."

"Like I said, the trip should take a couple weeks at most," Olive said, checking over her things. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

(A/N):

I know — an unnecessarily long wait on a ridiculously short and poorly written chapter. I tried to make it as good as possible, but I've been so overwhelmed with life that this was the best I could come up with. I hope you guys found something at least tolerable out of this. If there's any constructive criticism you can give, I'd appreciate it greatly.

I own nothing in this fandom, only the OCs and the subplots I put in. If you've got ideas for OCs or subplots, leave a review or a PM.

On that note, I bid you guys farewell for now. The next update will come when I have the time to post one.

Leave a thought on what I can improve on.

Thanks.

A.J. Menendez