Post by Chanterelle Stone on Aug 28, 2010 3:27:30 GMT
Chanterelle signed off the computer with shaking hands. That sick, sick, sick freak on the IM system - 'Rio Shonski' - had pissed her off beyond belief. How could someone be such a jerk? She genuinely couldn't understand it. ' Great, you're a good mother from North Dakota while your kids are in Texas. ' She was a good mother. She would have been, anyway, if her babies hadn't been taken away from her. All because of that bitch, Megan.
She took several deep breaths, then stood up, leaving the computer on, and walked to one of the sofas in the corner of the room, sitting down and staring into space. Was Riordan in this room? Were Kitty and Chris? Or had they been in the computer lab? She couldn't see a pair of twins anywhere, but her eyesight was slightly blurry. Raising her hand to her eyes, she was shocked to find she was crying. Crap. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then reached into her jeans pocket, pulling out a worn photo.
Chanterelle stared at the familiar picture, the only one she had of James and Jamilla together. She'd had others - she'd been a complete camera whore for a while - but she hadn't been allowed to keep them by the foster carers. Those idiots said that it wouldn't be 'constructive to her recovery', and had ignored her when she'd screamed that she didn't need to recover from anything. They'd had trouble getting the pictures off her in the end, though. They'd waited until she left the house, then searched her bedroom until they found them, hidden beneath the mattress. She wondered what they'd done with all her photos. Burnt them, probably.
Putting the tiny square close to her mouth, she pressed her lips against each minute head, closing her eyes as she did so and remembering the milky-sweet smell when she'd cradled the two in her arms, straight after they'd been born. Her children. Hers. Would they miss her? Would they remember her? Probably not. Her eyes pricked again at the idea. Well, she'd never forget them. And if she had to kidnap them again to save them from Megan then she would. Just as soon as she got out of this fucked-up place.
She took several deep breaths, then stood up, leaving the computer on, and walked to one of the sofas in the corner of the room, sitting down and staring into space. Was Riordan in this room? Were Kitty and Chris? Or had they been in the computer lab? She couldn't see a pair of twins anywhere, but her eyesight was slightly blurry. Raising her hand to her eyes, she was shocked to find she was crying. Crap. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then reached into her jeans pocket, pulling out a worn photo.
Chanterelle stared at the familiar picture, the only one she had of James and Jamilla together. She'd had others - she'd been a complete camera whore for a while - but she hadn't been allowed to keep them by the foster carers. Those idiots said that it wouldn't be 'constructive to her recovery', and had ignored her when she'd screamed that she didn't need to recover from anything. They'd had trouble getting the pictures off her in the end, though. They'd waited until she left the house, then searched her bedroom until they found them, hidden beneath the mattress. She wondered what they'd done with all her photos. Burnt them, probably.
Putting the tiny square close to her mouth, she pressed her lips against each minute head, closing her eyes as she did so and remembering the milky-sweet smell when she'd cradled the two in her arms, straight after they'd been born. Her children. Hers. Would they miss her? Would they remember her? Probably not. Her eyes pricked again at the idea. Well, she'd never forget them. And if she had to kidnap them again to save them from Megan then she would. Just as soon as she got out of this fucked-up place.
((Lyrics in the title are Missing, by Evanescence.))
