Twisted Fates Chap Two

Chapter Two:
The police officer came towards me slowly as if afraid of what I might do. Stopping only a few feet away, he asked me my name. I told him it was Aden. He said, “Come with me, please.”
While extending his hand toward me, I took it cautiously and stepped out from behind the couch. He led me outside and I took one last look at my former life… After getting checked out by the probing paramedics outside, I was taken to a place where they said I would get a new mom and maybe even a dad...
I spent one year in a temporary foster home until they found a place for me to stay permanently. I liked the foster home that I was in. My temporary mother, and indeed my new father were the nicest, kindest people that I had ever met. I remember when we first came to the house my foster mom met me and the social worker at the door. I remember her sweet smile as she enfolded me in her arms for the first time.
“Hello, sweetie. How are you?” she half whispered. I smiled and almost cried.
“I’m fine, thank you, mam.” She then grew stern. she stood up straighter and knitting her eyebrows together, replied. “Aden. I wish you wouldn’t call me “mam”. She shook her head, which made her curly, dirty blonde hair shake; she had blue eyes and a very pretty smile. “Call me Leanne or mom if you wish --all the other boys do.” She laughed at her own joke and led me inside her home. She led me into the kitchen where she had fresh milk and cookies waiting on the counter. I spied them greedily, which, of course, she noticed.
“Go ahead and have some. Go on.” She smiled lightly pushing me towards the island. I took a cookie and a sip of milk as she called the rest of the boys to the kitchen to meet me. ”Boys. This is Aden Da Nerezza. He’s new here. I expect you will all show him the ropes around here and be nice to him.”
“But he’s such a scrawny little thing!” said one of the boys. He had black hair and green eyes. He was taller than I was but not by much. When he noticed that I was looking at him, he sneered. “What are you looking at?” I shook my head and looked down at my plate that now only held one cookie.
“Look, Casey. I’m fed up with your attitude” my new mother said shaking her head. ”You never get along with any of the new boys here. If memory serves me correctly, you were the new kid here not so long ago…”
He sneered at me and turned to leave the room.
“It was nice meeting you!” I yelled to him. He waved his hand to signal that he had heard me and kept walking.
“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’ll come around sooner or later. He always does…” She gave me a hug and ruffled my hair and told me that if I wanted to, I was more than welcome to watch TV, which I did gratefully. My year there was wonderful. I would wake up in the morning and dress in my new cloths, get on the bus and go to a school I loved. I was a bright boy and I loved to read and write.
I remember that Leanne was so happy the first time I got an A that she posted it on the refrigerator.
Too bad it didn’t last… The year came and went and 1981 came to a close. One day as I was watching TV, Leanne came in and sat next to me on the couch.
“Aden, Aden. Turn off the TV. We need to talk.” I did what I was told and faced her.
“What is it, Mom?” I asked turning my head to one side.
“Aden, they’ve found you a new home,” She said putting her hand on my shoulder. I assumed by “they” she meant DHS.
“What? Why? I want to live here with you!” I wrapped my arms around her neck, kissing her cheek, slightly whimpering. She sighed and shook her head.
“Stop your kisses, there’s nothing I can do, Aden. Your new permanent mother is coming to get you in the morn…“I stopped her before she could say the rest of the word by hopping off of the couch and running to my room.
I slammed the door and sunk to the floor and cried. I didn’t want to leave. I thought she loved me.
The next morning I didn’t eat. Suddenly, I heard grunting behind me, and I turned to see Leanne holding my bag.
“Well? Are you ready to meet your new mom?” I nodded my head. “Good, because she will be here any minute. Just as she said this there, was a knock on the door. Leanne sighed and went to get it. There in the doorway was my new foster mom. She was a heavyset woman --this new mother with long, dark brown hair that lay in thick curls around her shoulders. She had hazel eyes, and wore big black-rimmed glasses that made her eyes look huge, although her face reminded me so much of a kitten.
“Ahh right on time.” Leanne smiled at her guest. ”Please, come in.”
“Well thank you,” my newest mother said as she stepped out of the doorway.
“Are you ready?” Leanne asked putting her hand on my head. I nodded and she handed my bag to the other woman. She smiled sweetly at Leanne and took it then I gave Leanne one last hug and set off with my new mother.
I hoped that she would love me as much as my real mother did; unfortunately it wasn’t meant to be. As soon as the door shut at her house she started yelling. She first told me that she hated kids especially little boys, and that the only reason that she was in the foster care business was for the money that she got each week. She told me that she would enjoy making my life as miserable as possible and if I ever dared to tell anyone, she would make my life a living hell.
Then she told me to do the dishes for her while she went and watched her show. She told me if they were not done by the time she came back, there would be consequences; I didn’t know what those were and didn’t want to find out, I was a good kid. I mean, as much as possible. Hey, I was an eleven-year-old boy; we all get into some sort of trouble!
After a week or two there, I was no longer allowed to go to my new school-- the only rest that I had. My room was taken from me, and I was forced to sleep right outside her bedroom door on the fuzzy brown carpet that smelled of both dog urine and smoke. To make matters worse, she would step on me to get by. When she did have friends over, I would have to stay in the broom closet that was under the stairs. The first time she locked me in, I pounded on the door and screamed to be released; she finally opened the door and smacked me right across the face.
“What did I tell you? My friends don’t want to be disturbed by your incessant noise.”
“I… I… I’m sorry,” I sniffled. She slapped me again and I cried out in pain, and then retreated to the opposite corner.
“Did I give you permission to speak?” she screamed, “And what did I say about looking at me?” She smacked me again and I let out a slight whimper while staring at the floor.“Ha! Pure entertainment. You are such a joy to hit. Believe me.”
She laughed and shut the door, leaving me to my misery and pain I rubbed the cheek that she hit, sat down and pulled my knees up to my chest. I think I nodded off because when I woke up, she was there grinning.
“Did you have a nice sleep?” she asked. I stood up as fast as I could and looked at the floor. She laughed again and shoved me to the ground. My head hit the wall, and she stood there with a derogatory look on her face. “Well?” she said. I wanted to say. “Well what?”
“Did you have a nice sleep? Answer me when I’m speaking to you!”
“Y… y… yes,” I cringed. She smacked me again.
“Wrong answer!” She grabbed my shirt and drug me out of the closet. ”I’m going to make you really tired, boy!” She screamed while turning towards me and letting go of my shirt. That night I was made to clean the entire house top to bottom. Then she told me to stand by her bed the entire night. If I fell asleep, she threatened to skin me alive.
That night, while she snored in her bed, I stood beside her. I
often caught myself nodding off, and then I would shake myself awake. Around three o’ clock she woke up.
“You still awake?” she asked. I stood in my position not daring to utter a word. ”I asked you a question!”
“Yes mam, I am just like you told me to do mam.”
“Good.” She got out of bed and headed down the hall. I counted her steps and then heard the door to the bathroom close. I sighed and stretched my arms and legs out, carefully listening to make sure she was still in the bathroom. She came back and I immediately locked my eyes to the floor. I heard her grunt as she got into the bed, and she turned off the light.
For days afterward I was not allowed to eat with her if I was lucky enough to get her scraps, I had to eat it before she changed her mind and she did that often…
I was there a grand total of three years. Those years were probably the worst years in my life. I remember she would tell me, “Why don't you go kill yourself? Obviously, your real parents didn't want you and look what happened to them! Your poor father was driven out of his mind and he shot both himself and your mother! Get out! Get out! Why would I want you? Why would I love you? You’re nothing but a thing; yes… a thing is what you are. Get out!" She hit me with brooms at the back of my legs when I did not complete my chores on time or if I was late getting up in the morning. She starved me and locked me in broom cupboards for days, maybe even weeks at a time --prisoner in my own filth. I grew to despise myself, but I hated her even more. What did I do? Nothing, that’s what.
And as soon as I figured this out, I found that I could actually do something about my situation, so… I did. Can’t say that I was proud of it, mind you. I just... I snapped. I had enough of the beatings, the week long "solitary confinement," only to be let out to do her chores while she sat on her butt.
I got rid of my problem. She didn’t even see it coming. I was washing my regular dishes when the thought occurred to me. She sat in the living room dressed in nothing but her peach colored cotton robe, sipping rum, her feet propped up on the coffee table rather lazily. Her head was pointed down making the fat around her neck bulge. Her eyes were half closed and her hair bunched up and tied in a bun on the top of her head.
I took the heavy wrench from under the kitchen sink and hid it behind my back. I crept to the living room and stood behind her and swung. The first time I hit her, she sat there kind of dazed. All of a sudden, she fell over and I went around the couch to hit her again. I hit her not one time, not two times, but four consecutive times. Afterwards I dropped the blood-drenched wrench and lay down on the floor; I stayed there for hours and stretched my arms and legs out.
Before long the shock wore off. The madness left and I realized what I had done. Only then did I weep for her. I finished her life --not sickness, and no other being did it -–me, the lonely orphan. And so my life truly began...