METALLIC FLOWER
Chapter I:
Burn
A.N. The reference in the prologue was "good dreams and nightmares," the very last line. As for where it's from... it's the last line in the prologue of Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases. I had to find somewhere for her to basically quote Mello, and that's what I did. Sadly, no one figured it out. Then again, I didn't really give it that much time.
"Mommy stop!" I cried out, as she pinned me to the floor. I was trapped underneath of her, my stomach pressed against the floor. In response, she yanked my hair. The left side of my face was the side against the floor, meaning I could clearly see the fireplace, as well as what she did next.
My mother grabbed a nearby pair of scissors and cut my shirt in half, exposing my back. After moving the fabric away, she grabbed the poker from the fireplace and moved back a bit.
Searing pain attacked my back as she placed the red-hot steel against my skin. I could feel the centre of the pain -where the tip of the poker was- move in a pattern across my left shoulder blade. A crescent moon.
"Please!" I cried, "stop!" No matter how much I cried and begged, she refused to let up. Instead, she slowed down. The pain lasted longer, and burned more of my skin.
Remembering we lived in a duplex, I continued to scream at the top of my lungs, hoping, praying that our neighbours were home, would hear me, and try to stop it.
A few moments longer, my prayers were answered. "Lucille, is everything okay?" a voice asked. I recognized it as Mr. Coldstream, our neighbour who also happened to be a cop.
Mother hit the side of my head to try and get me to be quiet. "Shut up you devil-child!" she cried, digging the poker into my shoulder.
"Mr. Coldstream!" I called out. "Help!" At that moment, I began to hear a furious pounding on the front door, followed by a crash. Footsteps thundered over to where we were, and my mother was pulled away. The poker was tossed aside, landing with the tip back in the fire place.
Struggling, I sat up and watched as handcuffs were placed around my mother's wrists, which were pinned behind her back. She had a wild, deranged look in her eyes, and I would do nothing but cower in fear.
"Saffron," Mr. Coldstream said gently. "Go over to my place, Mary will take care of you there."
Not knowing what else to do, I nodded, stood up and left. Doing my best to ignore the pain in my shoulder, I clutched the remainder of my shirt against my chest and stumbled through the room, past the busted down front door, and into the cold early March air.
I slowly made my way across the cold wooden deck between the two homes. Reaching the other door, I knocked. The door was opened by Mr. Coldstream's wife Mary. She's a gentle woman with long light blonde hair and green eyes. She's friendly, creative, smart, and the only person I could really look up to after my mother let herself go.
Mary gasped, then ushered me inside. "Saffron, you poor thing," she muttered. "Let's get you cleaned up." She took my hand and led me to the bathroom. Reaching under the sink, she pulled out a little box and opened it to reveal bottles and bandages.
"Can you please take your shirt off?" she asked gently. I complied, and allowed the cloth to fall to the floor. She grabbed a large hair clip and used it to hold my braids to the back of my head.
Mary took a white bottle out of the box and poured a little of the cream onto her hand before rubbing it onto my back. "It's burn cream," she explained, "to help the burn heal. Luckily for you, these burns aren't too serious. I'll just put it on tonight, and after that, I'll put aloe vera gel on to draw the heat away. Give it about four days, and you should be fine."
I nodded, as she continued rubbing the cream into my back, wincing whenever she touched the poker's path.
When she was finished, she spoke again. "Wait here," she told me, "I'm going to see if there's an old shirt of Alyssa's you can borrow."
A few moments later, she returned with a plain navy blue t-shirt. "Try this on," Mary said, handing me the shirt. I took it and slipped in over my head. The shirt was a little baggy, but it wasn't about to fall off or anything.
Nodding in approval, Mary left the room, and I followed her downstairs to the living room. There, I climbed onto the leather couch and laid down. My eyes slowly drifted shut as I fell asleep.