Status: Writing when an idea is in my head...
Daughter of Rage and Love
Last of The American Girls
The birth certificates were laid in front of Adrienne along with the adoption papers. For the past half hour, her pen scribbled across the official papers, signing her one and only daughter away to two strangers. She had filled in her name as Lillith. Lillith Athena Armstrong. Born February 28th 1995 at 12.37 noon. A lone tear crept down her cheek as the care worker stacked the fateful documents into an envelope.
Adrienne stood outside the baby ward; fingers pressed against the glass. she looked into the room full of sleeping babies; casting a crying eye over the blissful children. She focused her gaze to two in particular; a little boy and girl. They looked similar despite the gender gap. She focused on the girl taking in her angel like features. The little one was born with bright, vibrant, cheerful gorgeous green eyes; like glittering living emeralds. She had deep rich brown hair; similar to liquid chocolate or dark caramel. She'd a rounded face, with her mothers smile and fathers expressions. She was perfect; at least in Adrienne's eye. Her daughter; her only one.
Beside her was a couple; a blonde haired woman in her early twenties and a male just a day past 26. The woman wore the latest fashion; denim jeans and cowboy boots paired with a boyfriend shirt. The man had brown hair and he wore a light blue plaid shirt over a white t-shirt. He wore baggy jeans and sneakers covered his feet. On closer inspection, Adrienne noticed they both had blue eyes; a major contrast to her daughters.
Adrienne looked down at her own apparel; an Iron Maiden t-shirt and skinny jeans. She wore a waistcoat and over that her husbands leather jacket she had borrowed. She dressed like a teen; she lived like a teen; she was in love with a teen heartthrob. And the fruits of her and her lovers passionate labours lay in her cot sleeping.
The baby girls lids opened and she looked upon her mother for the very last time. She took in her mothers graffitied eyes; her reddy brown dreadlocked hair; her loving smile. She remembered her unforgetable scent; old leather, polish, cigarettes and petrol. She remembered her perfume; soft subtle roses and another mans testosterone. She held onto her last few glimpses of her true family; the one she rightfully belonged to.
"Nurse? What's that one called in cot number three?"
Adrienne's head snapped round to look at the couple when the blond woman spoke. No she mouthed. A milling nurse came to the fashionable womans aid with her clipboard.
"Which one again?" the nurse asked.
"The one in cot three." The man replied.
"3...3...3... Ah. Miss Lillith Armstrong."
More tears streamed down Adrienne's face. Her baby girl began to cry aswell. Tear sodden, wretched, angry and heartbroken; Adrienne fled the ward leaving her beloved daughter alone; with only a paper ring around her wrist and silent dreams and memories to remind her who she really was.
Adrienne stood outside the baby ward; fingers pressed against the glass. she looked into the room full of sleeping babies; casting a crying eye over the blissful children. She focused her gaze to two in particular; a little boy and girl. They looked similar despite the gender gap. She focused on the girl taking in her angel like features. The little one was born with bright, vibrant, cheerful gorgeous green eyes; like glittering living emeralds. She had deep rich brown hair; similar to liquid chocolate or dark caramel. She'd a rounded face, with her mothers smile and fathers expressions. She was perfect; at least in Adrienne's eye. Her daughter; her only one.
Beside her was a couple; a blonde haired woman in her early twenties and a male just a day past 26. The woman wore the latest fashion; denim jeans and cowboy boots paired with a boyfriend shirt. The man had brown hair and he wore a light blue plaid shirt over a white t-shirt. He wore baggy jeans and sneakers covered his feet. On closer inspection, Adrienne noticed they both had blue eyes; a major contrast to her daughters.
Adrienne looked down at her own apparel; an Iron Maiden t-shirt and skinny jeans. She wore a waistcoat and over that her husbands leather jacket she had borrowed. She dressed like a teen; she lived like a teen; she was in love with a teen heartthrob. And the fruits of her and her lovers passionate labours lay in her cot sleeping.
The baby girls lids opened and she looked upon her mother for the very last time. She took in her mothers graffitied eyes; her reddy brown dreadlocked hair; her loving smile. She remembered her unforgetable scent; old leather, polish, cigarettes and petrol. She remembered her perfume; soft subtle roses and another mans testosterone. She held onto her last few glimpses of her true family; the one she rightfully belonged to.
"Nurse? What's that one called in cot number three?"
Adrienne's head snapped round to look at the couple when the blond woman spoke. No she mouthed. A milling nurse came to the fashionable womans aid with her clipboard.
"Which one again?" the nurse asked.
"The one in cot three." The man replied.
"3...3...3... Ah. Miss Lillith Armstrong."
More tears streamed down Adrienne's face. Her baby girl began to cry aswell. Tear sodden, wretched, angry and heartbroken; Adrienne fled the ward leaving her beloved daughter alone; with only a paper ring around her wrist and silent dreams and memories to remind her who she really was.