prologue
LULU
I'm not sure where to start.
Maybe that's the Little in me, but I'm lost. Starting at the most important part is probably best but just thinking about it makes me want to cry and burrow beneath my blankie. Unfortunately, sometimes I need to be an adult, even when the very thing that might help is being Little.
I'll be Big and just say it...
My mom died this week.
I'm floundering and have no idea what comes next. I feel like I can't breathe half the time and some days the tears won't stop. What do I do now?
A Daddy would know how to help me. At least that's what the books suggest. I’ve only been able to sneak to the library a few times in the last year of high school, but what I found gave me some idea on the things I’m interested in.
Living is suffocating as it is. Now what am I supposed to do with the account Mom left me or the house? I don't know anything about owning a house! My father took care of everything in between punishing me and shouting at my mom.
Her husband, abuser, and my father are all the same person. He didn't know she had been secretly saving money for me and he's furious.
I should be grateful for the gesture and risk she put into those funds, but it has only added to my fear. Kirk, my sperm donor, resents me. When he gets mad... well, let’s just say hiding won't stop him.
I left that out, didn't I? He hurts me too.
This next bit of information would most likely get my butt spanked, but I don't have anyone who cares enough to battle the mean voices inside my head. Not even my blankie can tell me I'm wrong when I say I deserved father's punishments.
What nineteen-year-old wets the bed? I most definitely deserved the grounding I got. I could've handled the dark basement if that's all there was to it, but the welts on my butt made it awful to sit on the concrete down there.
Mom used to protect me but that always made things worse. Still, I appreciated her devotion to me through the bouts of pain and tears. Spending more time in the basement while her shouts echoed through the floorboards broke my heart a little more each time.
I was brought into this world to bring my mom some sunshine. Lucinda means light in Latin, which Mom never failed to remind me of. With a smile on her face and a shaky hand while we hid in the closet she would cry and tell me I was the light of her life and she always knew I would be.
I'm not, though. Huddled with my legs to my chest, staring up at her black eyes and wincing from the welts on my lower back, I knew all I did was bring darkness to her world.
When I stood over her grave on Wednesday, I wondered about the stories that came before me. The onlylightin our home was her smile. She kept me going, even in the darkness of the basement.
I can still hear the muffled words she sang to me through the floor upstairs. Nursery rhymes for a teenager becoming an adult might seem odd, but as I rocked myself back and forth and used the heat from my wounds to convince myself I was warm, I felt comforted.
She kept me going. I wish I could have done the same for her and now I'm not sure how to manage the world on my own. I'm not prepared for the cruelty that's sure to hunt me down some day and there's no telling what the real world is like.
Is there anyone out there who wouldn't harm a vulnerable young woman? I'm scared there isn't and I don't know how to be strong. I don't know how to be Big. My Little wants to be loved but I'm terrified that doesn't exist for me.
Who could love a scarred girl who's... different?
one
LULU
I should have left a few minutes ago except I can't get my feet to move. My lips wiggle and twist from side to side as I fight off the tears that are sure to come if I leave Binks home.
"I have nowhere to hide you," I whimper, losing the battle and quickly wiping my cheeks. "You make me small. I have to be Big today. I'm sorry." I sob and run from my bedroom.
Forcing myself to keep going, I grab my purse and ragged sweater from the dining table. I can't look back because if I do then I'll decide bringing my blankie is acceptable.
It's not. Nobody would hire a girl clutching a silly blanket and scuffing her toe like she's afraid.
"It's okay." I sniffle and lock the front door behind me. I test it because the fake Daddy in my head would demand I do so.
I've had a lot of time to imagine all the things my dream Daddy would require of me. Safety would be first and since I'm a young woman living alone, I should definitely lock the door.
