Cry Cry Baby

"Don't call your sister that," Mrs. Ember - Mommy number five - said.
"She's not my fucking sister," Paulie said low but loud enough to be audible.
"Paul Owen Ember, what have I told you about cursing!" she replied.
"Christ," Paulie shook his head. Mom had gone off in a tirade.
'And your not her fucking son either,' I thought.

Paulie knew I was adopted, but he had no idea he was too. Mom and her husband had been trying to conceive for years. She didn't want to get old and not know the 'joys of motherhood', as I heard it put once, so she and her hubby adopted Paulie from this reckless teenage couple. It was arranged that when the Paulie came out of the girl, he goes directly to Mom, and he did. So reader, you expect this has a happy end right? Well you'd be wrong.

You see, her husband has always wanted a child of his own. But we can't always get what we want can we. Not even a year after the adoption, Mom got ovarian cancer. The surgeons had to do a total hysterectomy, a removal of the womb. There goes his dreams of having his own kid.

You would think that he would stay with her in such a time right? Well you'd be wrong again. That ass-wipe left her just like that for some young thing in a dress two sizes too small. And his poor missis left all alone with a nine month old who didn't know how to do anything except shit himself and cry all day long.

Mom and that jack-ass are separated, but in my mind they're as good as divorced. Mom is a Bible-thumping Catholic you see. Has all these morals and views on life and constantly annoys you with her insistent bitching. So ya, she couldn't be divorced, 'I mean, what would the neighbours say?' She was that kind of woman who cares about appearances and stuff. So when I found out about Paulie, she practically had me write it in blood that I wouldn't tell. As for Paulie, all he knows is that his father, or who he thinks is his father, is dead. I mean, that is the lie he's been growing up with, so why ruin the kid's life.

I, on the other hand, was a completely different case. I was in the hospital for a while before someone claimed me. It was either I didn't have any relatives other than Papa, or he didn't keep in touch with them well enough for me to know them. Notwithstanding, someone came claiming to be my father's bastard brother. I guess he checked out okay for them to release me to him, a member of the Mafia.

I got tied up in a human trafficking ring where I was pimped out out, beaten, raped, abused and sold a a slave. The first guy who got me was some lame-ass, computer nerd who was a forty-five year old virgin. He bought me as a sex slave. One day, he tried to make me give him a blow-job, so I bit the fucker's six inch so hard it bled. As a reward, he locked me in his basement with little food for a month before I escaped. I had spent two years in the ring before getting with this guy so I was about nine then.

No one gave a damn about me on the cold streets of where I assumed to be New York. Once or twice I'd get a forty dollars at the end of the day when people actually cared enough to give a dollar. It was tough on the streets so I had to grow up fast and defend what was mine from, hobos, dogs and on rare occasions, children around my age who had gone wild from the street life. I hoped I wouldn't turn savage like that. And I was pretty sure I wouldn't cause it seemed I could handle myself.

Once, I fell asleep on a park bench. You couldn't imagine my fucking shock when I woke up on a ship that was going all the way to only God knows. To my left, I see Indian kids, to my right, I see Asians, in-front of me, I see African kids who look like they were getting ready to eat the first thing they can get their hands on. But then I realize, I'm the only white kid here. I mean yeah Italian, but my complexion was pretty white.

So anyways, I'm here, stuck in this human trafficking shit again, going God knows where, to God knows who, with absolutely no means of communication whatsoever due to the diversity in this God-forsaken box or whatever it is we're in, so you know what I do? I take a fucking nap. That's right, I look around on all the kids in here, and by the look on their face, the world hasn't fucked around with them yet, and I take a nap.

I pretty much hope that this was all some sort of weird dream; but I was in for a rude awakening. I was still on the ship, in some sort of box thing which was probably a cargo box thing or whatever it's called. It's so sick, that human beings could do this sort of thing to children, who didn't do anything in their life.

But what pissed me off the most was, why the fuck was I here? I mean I didn't do anything. There I am, minding my own business, sleeping in a bench, not bothering anyone, then the next thing I know, I'm here in this fucking boat. As in, who the fuck do they think they are? Taking me up like that! Did this douche just see a pretty young girl taking a nap and say 'Oh hell, I can get a pretty penny selling her! Lemme just take her up and send her across the world!' That bastard, the nerve of him.

After we docked we drove somewhere, still in that damn box, then we got to a ware-house in the middle of god-knows-where. There was more children there too. We were chained to beds and given food weekly by some person in a mask. I noticed the Africans looked on me often as if they were afraid of what I would do to them. Well I couldn't make friends because no one here spoke English and I may look rough around the edges, but I would hurt them.

After a month I got sold to some snooty ass rich bitch. When I finally got outside, I realized we were in England. Me and My Lady didn't live there though. She spent most of her time in Germany and comes to England on occasion to visit family. I lived in Germany as her helper. She always seemed paranoid that her maid stole her money. More to the point, I had to learn German.

My Lady didn't like the look in my eyes. That was the reason she used when she sent be back to the ware-house and she paid double to send me back too. 'It looks like she's going to poison my tea or stab me in the heart while I sleep' she said. It was true though, I was actually plotting how to kill her. That woman acts as if she has a stick constantly stuck up her ass.

Afterward, I went a french couple who had a hard time having a kid. I wondered as to why the hell they didn't just adopt. But hell, who was I to impede on their fantasy. I met another girl there too who was in the ware-house. I recognized her because although she was Indian, she seemed to have green eyes. And they were so sad. I remembered how I wanted to help her but I could because of the chains and the language barrier.

They treated us pretty decently in the year that I was there. The Indian girl's name was Aaheli, she told me it meant pure. We spoke in French and I was actually starting to like it there. I couldn't go outside but I had a mother, a father, a sister and for a time we took in this mongrel dog. It was good, until the fire ruined it all.

I woke up and it was really early in the morning. It was still dark. I looked and I saw smoke all around the room. It suffocated me. Although the fire wasn't in the room - yet - I felt hot. I shook Aaheli so hard. (We slept in the same room.) I wanted her to wake up but she didn't respond to me. 'Aidez-moi maman! Aidez-moi papa!' I remember yelling. No one came. I was left alone like this.

That's when I remembered, Aaheli had really bad asthma. The smoke probably took more of a toll on her than I. I put my hand on her chest, she wasn't breathing. The cruel reality, crept on me. And I cried on her body for so long. I held her hands as I cried. My first sister, my first family in a long, long time, was just taken away from me.

I felt a warm glow on my face that told me the fire was inching closer. I remembered how no sooner than I lifted my head up, the door exploded with fire. I kissed my sister on her cheek and bid her adieu.

I ran down the fire escape, the police station wasn't very far from where we lived. I tried to tell them about the fire, but they didn't believe me. They though I was some crazy homeless kid. When I ran back to the house I collapsed because of all of the smoke I inhaled.

When I came to, I was under a bridge. Not too sure where I was or how I got there, I started panicking. There was a coat over me and I was wrapped in dirty blankets. My muscles felt really tense as if I haven't moved in ages. I was hungry too.

I stayed still for about four hours before my saviour came. He was a home-less man who went by the name Jaune: yellow. I suppose it was a pun. Jaune sounds like jeune, which means young; this old-timer was pushing seventy. But he was kind. I realized that I was not in my night-gown, but in men's clothing. I looked on him shocked, and he gave me a toothy smile. (His teeth may be another reason why he goes by jaune.) He didn't touch me though, if that's what you're worried about.

Together, we got in a lot of trouble. We broke into houses, I gained another skill, stole food, (especially pastries) annoyed people. It was so fun! He was like a grandfather to me. Can you imagine my distress when I woke up one day and he didn't. It looked like a heart attack or something. I felt bad that the most I could do was give him this half-dead looking chrysanthemum I found, after all he did for me. I didn't even cry. In a sick twisted way, this felt all too natural.

After he died, I had to sell my body just to get money to eat. Not long after, I found a decent pimp. he called himself Brass. (In English, not French.) Although he got the money, I got food and shelter, so I was good. He didn't beat me or forced me to have sex with him like the other girls he lived with. Maybe he saw the same thing in my eyes that My Lady saw that told him that I would kill him if I didn't need him so bad.

Then, the happiest chapter in my life after my father died began. The day I met Okaa-san, Setsuko - Okaa-san. Okaa- san means Mother in Japanese. She was from Japan and didn't speak much English or French. She saw me roaming on the streets one day and I guess she took pity on me.

We somehow became friends. I told her about my current situation but because she didn't speak much french, I had to act out a few things. Somehow, Brass found out and he wasn't happy. That pussy finally got the courage to slap an eleven year old across the face. I retorted by introducing his balls to my knee. Twice. While he was down I made my escape and as luck would have it, I bounced right in to Setsuko-san.

I don't know why, but when I saw her I just burst into tears. She was the first person I talked to about all my problems. She cared, she patted my head, she sang to me sometimes too and bought me Gougère although she didn't like cheese, she was like a mother to me. And I was so glad when she smuggled me back to Japan with her.

She was rich, richer than My Lady. We had a nice life together. I picked up another language, Japanese. Because it was so different from English, French and German, it took me a year before I completely mastered the language. I had a lot of friends although I didn't got to school. They called me Jaku-chan and were very kind to me. I did learn though. After all, Okaa-san didn't want me to be stupid. I had a lot of tutors and I learned a lot.

I spent four years there. They were four of the best years in my life. Although Okaa-san didn't have a husband, she had a lot of servants who where kind to me. My friends, Ai-chan, Katsumi-kun and Noriko-chan and I, Jaku-chan, had lots of fun together. We ate sweets and sang Karaoke. We had tempura and roasted squid on the beach. The Summer Festival was always fun and I liked dressing up in a yukata.

I got healthier in Japan. I wasn't so thin and didn't get sick once I got all my shots. I got taller and my hair got longer and shinier. Everything seemed more kinder and gentler when I was in Japan. It was like, no one was there to hurt me and every face I saw, was the face of some one who genuinely cared for me and wished for my happiness. I even stop swearing as much. I had friends and I had a mother, I finally had a life I loved and I saw a beautiful person staring back at me in the mirror. So why? Why did things turn out the way they did? Why is it when everything is finally so peaceful, reality comes around and fucks it up?

No dear reader, she didn't die. She was arrested for involvement in human trafficking and was sentenced to ten years in prison, three years for every year she kept me. They was rather lenient because she didn't hurt me and I was properly cared for and received an education. I was immediately deported back to America and set to ACS.

The first family I had didn't even keep me for a week because I attacked them once when they pissed me off enough. My soul was still pretty raged after all I went through. Being happy then fucked up again, then happy and fucked up again in an endless cycle, that will take a toll on people. I don't even know why Mrs Ember took me in. Maybe she always wanted a girl or maybe she just wanted someone to cook and clean on occasion. She doesn't seem to like me and she's always doting on that fat-ass son of hers. Ah well, with my luck, she'll probably end up dead in a freak accident. Either her or her son.

Reader, do you find me cruel? Is it not natural to hate the ones who are wicked to us? Or have I not have a normal enough life to be the judge of morals and natural reactions? Maybe, to those who don't understand, if life had raped you as much as it did me, you would understand.

"And you Jackie!" Mom said, "Jackie are you even paying attention? Jaquelyn!"
"Hai!" I said, "I mean yes"
"If you keep acting like a that you'll be never make any friends and you'll be all alone for the rest of your life!" she continued.
"If you want to be a space-cadet, wait til you grow up," Paulie joined in.
"It's exactly as he says, don't be an embarrassment to us. You owe me that much for taking you in, show your gratitude," Mom added.
"Yes, yes," I said ignoring Paulie's childish snickering, "Oh we're here." We just pulled in to the school.
"Have a nice first day Paulie!" Mom said cheerily, "Jackie, try not to embarrass your brother."
"Will do," I said with a little mock salute.
"I told you Mom, SHE IS NOT MY SISTER!"