Mold in the Closet
Disc: None
Dear Diary,
Today I get to meet my mother. Her name is Faith, and she is crazy. She lives in the Stockton State Women's Correctional Facility.
I know because we're going there now, and because it's written on the pass Daddy gave me. It says in large, bright red letters
that I am a VISITOR and not a prisoner. I've never met my mother before, but from what Daddy tells me, she is a nice lady.
I've had a picture of her for as long as I can remember. It's of her and Daddy. They're both smiling, and laughing, and they look happy.
I hope she's happy to see me. I don't know why Mommy has to live here, but Daddy said it's because of something bad she did a very
long time ago.
"Ready, Prima Donna?"
This nickname was reserved with special rights. First, only Xander, or for more proper title, Daddy, can use it. Second, it is only used when his nerves are too on end to think of anything comforting to say. And third, it had the cute back-story beneath it that only Xander and Lena could tell. The story was a bit of a blur to them both now, but it eagerly consisted of Lena's cooing all through the night and a too famous Opera singer.
"Ready."
Lena was pretty. She had a head of thick hair, overflowing with the slight curls and chestnut colour of both her Mother's and Father's own heads. Her cheekbones were high and a just barely visible pair of dimples appeared across her face with every slight emotion. She was seven years old, and felt that it was normal, just meeting her Mother. When she told her four foot tall, blonde, and well kempt friends where she would be today, why she would be missing from the normal routine of school, play, school, play, they got a funny look across their faces and asked, "Why don't you know your Mother?" And Lena couldn't answer their questions. And so she asked her Father.
Xander explained, in layman's terms, that Faith had done some bad things many, many years ago, and she was repaying her debt to society by living in the catacombs of a dank, dripping 8 x 10 cell and surviving on the most minimum of edible foods. Of course, he didn't include much detail.
The car doors opened, Lena was removed from her seat with the unneeded help of Xander, and both made their way up to the front steps, through the gates and delicately operated security doors, and both steadily received hand cramps from showing their badges every few moments. Xander's hand, large, warm, and worn from years of work in the business of construction, wrapped around Lena's as they were led down a dizzying amount of hallways.
Xander breathed louder than usual, and Lena noticed. She squeezed his hand and smiled a bit blankly up at her Father. She knew, from Xander's tenseness, that she as well should be fidgeting. She wasn't. She wasn't nervous, and this she knew for a fact, was weird. She was about to meet her Mother for the first time, and she wasn't nervous. Deep in between the cracks and at the very bottoms of her heart Lena thought fear would rise, and yet it didn't. Should she worry?
A few men dressed in all too professional outfits, complete with gun holsters, handcuffs and mace all stuffed into their utility belts, ran by. Xander pulled Lena a little closer. Everything that passed them on their journey to the magical land which would introduce normal life to the youngest of the Harris Clan was clean, shiny, blinding with a reflective shadow that could show the pigments of your skin without leaning in too close. There weren't many people around, except for, surprisingly, a few doctors, officers, and other specialized looking people who probably had no business being at the Stockton Facility.
With one final curve around a hallway, revealing rows and rows of baby blue coloured doors, backed by a sort of chipped manila colouring, Lena finally let herself into the fear that slowly crept upon her fingers, toes, and pit of her child sized stomach. This feeling was similar to the stage fright she had gotten while performing in the class play, standing in the middle of the makeshift stage, wearing a grocery bag as a vest and her lines completely void in her mind. She hated that feeling.
One of the doctors Lena had seen passing them in the hall just moments before was suddenly standing beside them, unlocking one of the doors. They had stopped walking. Maybe her mind had deceived her on just how nervous she was. The doctor was looking at her as his fingers blindly, yet expertly thumbed through a complicated set of keys and slipped it into the key hole. His mouth was moving, words were coming out, but Lena only caught the last few.
"…and don't worry if your Mom is a little sleepy. It's just the medicine."
The sickening door, a single paned glass window backed by bars providing the most light in the hallway opened, and Lena was gently shoved inside.
The seat beneath her, a cold plastic like synthetic that stood her child hairs on end was strangely comfortable. It agreed well with the curves of her bottom and her hips, though it dissolved swallowed her in its extreme adult size. She liked it. Her legs hung over the edge, swinging back and forth as she silently awaited the arrival of her companion.
The room was big, too big for Lena. The table and two chairs sat perfectly centered in the middle of the layout. Two doors stood exactly opposite of each other, one behind each chair. The walls were the same envelope colour and peeled in the same way as the table before Lena. It was another greyish, turquoise, reminding her of the plastic seats she sat on every day in the school cafeteria. No windows.
It took a few minutes, three if Lena had counted, though she was not bored enough. The door opposite her swung slowly open and the fictional woman she had wanted to call Mommy for so long was led inside by a short, stumpy sort of man, a guard she guessed. Lena wondered when he first met his mother, at birth, like the rest of the kids, or maybe in a surrounded by invisible cameras, being watched by another set of lazy guards on another floor of this place.
She was dressed in a uniform pair of pants, dark blue, possibly the most colourful thing in the room besides Lena's own bright clothes. A white tank top hung off of her still toned and olive skinned body, a mix of muscular and thinning pairs of limbs. Handcuffs, not the typical kind of cold, glinting metal, but a safer looking version wrapped in a soft, and leather feeling material hung at her wrists, keeping them slightly rendered in front of her abdomen. And just as the doctor mentioned, her eyes were tired, drooping, looking like sleep hadn't graced her in years, if possible. That wasn't true though, she was always asleep it seemed these days. Too many pills.
Faith took a heavy seat at the identical chair sitting across from Lena. Her hands rest on the table. She said nothing, didn't move, just sat with eyes that looked like they so badly wanted to blink and never open up again. Lena just watched. The little girl's hands shook slightly in her lap and she wished Daddy was in the room with them.
"S'okay… I won't bite."
The words started as a weakly attempted joke and absently transformed into the strangest image Lena could come up with in her mind; her mother snapping and snarling like the monster this place thought she was. No, that wouldn't happen. A smile cracked at the sides of her lips and strenuously grew.
Faith could see it coming before it even grew. Lena's smile mirrored her own cocky, sarcastic face that she knew her favourite Slayer hated to love. However, if Lena was anymore like Faith than need be, it would be for her own good that Xander kept his eyes on her, and straightened her out when needed. But Faith didn't think that would need to happen. She could already see the heart of a Harris shining through the eyes of her daughter. No, she wouldn't be anything like her.
