Overcoming Jordan

She stood by the window, the light spinning her hair into streamers of liquid gold, which flowed over her shoulders and down to her slim waist, and hid her face from sight. Her navy shorts, which only reached halfway down her thighs, were ragged at the hems. Her too small, too tight, pale orange T-shirt hugged her blossoming form like a second skin. Her feet, on the worn, threadbare carpet were bare, which made it easy to see that even they were a pale, moonshine white color, like the skin around the heavy bruising that was visible on her arms and legs.1

Turning away from the window, her eyes swept over the room, taking it in again. The walls were a strange gray-green color, like the color of moss when the sun hits it. It reminded her so much of home...2

Forcing her eyes, and her mind, away from that painful subject, she examined the bed. It was covered in a deep blue blanket that had been hand-made by one of her foster mothers especially for her, and she had taken it everywhere with her. On top of it was a pillow, which was an earthy red color.3

A single shelf above her bed held few things of interest to her- a teddy bear, worn and ragged. Two books whose covers were coming off. A half-melted, fist-sized glass globe that was filled with glitter. Several pictures, frame-less. 4

There was the closet, full of clothes that didn't really fit her, all of which were out of place for winter- shorts and the like. And there, in the corner, was the dresser, which stood empty of everything but dust. Next to the bed, there was a nightstand, upon which stood a small clock.5

The overhead light was shaded, and colored. It was like sunlight- not quite white, but not really any other color, either. And barely visible on the ceiling around it were the luminescent stars that she'd put there as soon as she arrived.6

That was all, in this new prison that she'd come to. That was all, except for the promise that she'd taken with her wherever she'd gone.7

She didn't need to look at the window again to know it was there, or what it looked like. The dream-catcher hung still, its interconnecting, curious pattern familiar to her. The beads were bright in the fading light from outside, and the feathers and bits of obsidian still hung from it.8

She remembered the fire that had devastated the family, that had caused her to be sent away. "Only for a little while," her grief-stricken father had said after Mother died. "It's only for a while. And look- take this," he'd said, tears running down his face as he offered the dream-catcher to her, "take this with you, as my promise that I'll come and get you as soon as may be."9

She'd been seven at the time. She was thirteen now, and still he hadn't come. And though she wanted to hate him, she couldn't bring herself to do it.10

And she couldn't forget his promise, either.11

She wanted to throw it away, to destroy it, but Mother had made it. And even if Father hadn't kept his promise, she could still keep hers.12

So she hung on to it.13

It had followed her, along with her teddy, her books, the globe, and the pictures, throughout six years and thirteen different foster homes. 14

And now, here she was, her first year at foster home fourteen ending.15

The door burst open, and her new foster father came in, a scowl deeply etched into his drunk, fleshy face.16

"Dinner time." He snarled.17

She nodded, and walked to the door without speaking.18

"SPEAK!" He roared, his fat fingers digging into her arms and shaking her. "ACKNOWLEDGE ME!"19

She winced as his fingers dug deeper, knowing that she'd have a new set of bruises to explain away in the morning. Not that there was much to explain, since it would only be her younger foster brother who would ask what had happened.20

"DO YOU HEAR ME??? ARE YOU DEAF??? SPEAK!!!"21

She was silent, as she had been since the day that she left home. She'd never break her silence, her promise, for a man like him.22

She'd never break it for anyone.23

"STILL WON'T SPEAK TO ME???" he raged, spit flying from his mouth on his breath, which smelled of the drink. "FINE THEN. I"LL LEARN YOU!!"24

With that, he began hitting her. Again and again his fists struck, bringing new bruises to the surface and reviving the old ones.25

Still she was silent, refusing to cry out, though by this time she had bitten through her bottom lip.26

"I'LL LEARN YOU!!!" He roared again.27

In the flurry of blows, he hit her hard on the forehead, and everything began to go dark and fuzzy. The room seemed to spin as she fell to the floor, and she felt his boot kicking her, again and again, and felt her ribs breaking.28

She dimly saw the dream-catcher through a haze of pain and determination, it's beads shining as brightly as her tears.29

Then she was lost to the darkness.30