Prologue
"Mommy," a five-year-old-me said to her mother, "Where are we going?"
"Away, Sweetie Baby, just away,"my mother said to me. I was extremely confused at the time.
"But why?" So many questions were packed into those two words. Why leave our home? Why so fast? Why aren't we taking Shaun? Why are we running to the train? She never answered any of my questions. Don't s'pose she had the chance to.
"Baby, just get on the train," she said. I glanced back at her nervously. Why was she putting me on first? "Don't worry, I'm right behind you." I hate her for saying that. She let go of my hand and shoved into the car, at which point another lady grabbed my arm and pulled me into the seat next to her.
I screamed. It was in vain; I could already see my mother hurrying away from me, leaving me in the hands of this stranger. I didn't know to cry or kick and scream or make a break for the door. I also didn't know why I had been handed over to this rich lady. I turned to look her in the face and she smiled a warm, knowing, loving smile.
I looked deep into her eyes, which looked so much like my mother's, only infinitely younger. She slipped her arm around me in a comforting way and pulled me close as the train slowly pulled away from the station.
Only later, after what seemed like months on the train, was I told that she was my real mother. My world was hurled into a tailspin, but my young mind soon latched onto the idea. The woman I had lived with the first five years of my life with was my aunt, who was five years older than my mom.
When my mom got herself pregnant, my grandparents kept her inside until I was born and left with my aunt, who had just had a baby and was already married. My mother was sent to live with my rich great-aunt in Maine. So that's where I went to live now that my true mother was old enough to have me (by my grand parent's standards).
And now I'm 14, on my way home to find Shaun, whom I now know is my cousin and not my twin brother. I'm standing at some newsboy distribution center. Gone are my nice clothes that I wear at my mother's mansion (my great aunt died and left it to her) and I have donned shabby work clothes that I found three weeks ago in the attic.
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Okay, this was the prologue. Was it good? Please, please, please review. I won't write anymore if you don't, or maybe I will. I dunno. Just tell me if you like it. Please?
"Mommy," a five-year-old-me said to her mother, "Where are we going?"
"Away, Sweetie Baby, just away,"my mother said to me. I was extremely confused at the time.
"But why?" So many questions were packed into those two words. Why leave our home? Why so fast? Why aren't we taking Shaun? Why are we running to the train? She never answered any of my questions. Don't s'pose she had the chance to.
"Baby, just get on the train," she said. I glanced back at her nervously. Why was she putting me on first? "Don't worry, I'm right behind you." I hate her for saying that. She let go of my hand and shoved into the car, at which point another lady grabbed my arm and pulled me into the seat next to her.
I screamed. It was in vain; I could already see my mother hurrying away from me, leaving me in the hands of this stranger. I didn't know to cry or kick and scream or make a break for the door. I also didn't know why I had been handed over to this rich lady. I turned to look her in the face and she smiled a warm, knowing, loving smile.
I looked deep into her eyes, which looked so much like my mother's, only infinitely younger. She slipped her arm around me in a comforting way and pulled me close as the train slowly pulled away from the station.
Only later, after what seemed like months on the train, was I told that she was my real mother. My world was hurled into a tailspin, but my young mind soon latched onto the idea. The woman I had lived with the first five years of my life with was my aunt, who was five years older than my mom.
When my mom got herself pregnant, my grandparents kept her inside until I was born and left with my aunt, who had just had a baby and was already married. My mother was sent to live with my rich great-aunt in Maine. So that's where I went to live now that my true mother was old enough to have me (by my grand parent's standards).
And now I'm 14, on my way home to find Shaun, whom I now know is my cousin and not my twin brother. I'm standing at some newsboy distribution center. Gone are my nice clothes that I wear at my mother's mansion (my great aunt died and left it to her) and I have donned shabby work clothes that I found three weeks ago in the attic.
___________________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~____________________
Okay, this was the prologue. Was it good? Please, please, please review. I won't write anymore if you don't, or maybe I will. I dunno. Just tell me if you like it. Please?