Written by Dastem
Angelica’s father worked as a prison janitor just up the road from their small, one-bedroom apartment. Although he usually stayed drunk in between his long work hours, there was never any doubt in Angelica’s mind that he loved her. He just wasn’t always good at showing it.
By contrast, her mother had run off not long after she was born. By the time she was ten, Angelica had all but forgotten about her.
Still, there were times, when things got bad, that Angelica would open her book; the one her mother gave her as a baby. She would take out the only picture she had of the woman who gave her life and gaze at it until she fell into a trance.
The tattered, faded and worn image of a young beauty smiling in the summer sun whispered fairy tales in Angelica’s ears. Being that her mother left when she was far too young to remember, those fairy tales were all she had to go on. The picture was their inspiration–
Angelica closed her eyes to visualize the woman who’d abandoned her. She imagined her living in a beautiful home somewhere with her new family. So, like a movie in her mind, Angelica would watch her mother playing with the siblings she’d never met.
Well, one morning, after a particularly heavy night of drinking, Angelica’s father woke his daughter up with a loud crash. Angelica didn’t think much of it at the time, considering he was always doing something strange at odd hours. Falling into walls was anything but abnormal–
On one hand, Angelica was amazed that he functioned as well as he did with as little sleep as he got. On the other, she knew the years had taken their toll. Episodes like this were happening more and more frequently.
“Where is it?” She heard him slurring to himself.
“What are you looking for, Pop?”
“That picture… The one of your ma.”
Angelica felt butterflies take flight in her stomach, knowing that if she gave her father the picture, she would never see it again. So, she bit her lip and didn’t say a word.
“Ah, who cares,” her father eventually said when he couldn’t immediately find the snapshot. “…don’t even know why I’m looking.”
As Angelica got ready for school that morning, her father poured himself another drink. It was Friday, after all… his only day off. That meant he was going to spend the day nursing a handle of vodka until he descended into a state of complete oblivion.
“You know I love ya’, girl,” he said as she walked out the door for school.
“I know,” she replied.
“I loved her too… Your ma.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah… It’s good she ain’t around, though, I tell ‘ya. She had demons… even worse than me. She used ta’ say I had to raise ya… or else her demons would.”
Then, he paused for a few seconds before adding, “I know I haven’t been the best Pop for ya’, Angie, but damn if I haven’t tried.”
Her father’s words echoed in her mind all day long. Before she knew it, school was over.
Walking home, Angelica wondered what kinds of demons her father was talking about. Were they like the ones she felt inside her own chest, tempting her to hate the world?
When she came around the corner to her apartment building, though, those thoughts immediately flew from her mind. They were replaced by a fear she had never known before.
There, in front of the building she lived in, were two police cars and an ambulance. They seemed to be working a crime scene. The whole street was cordoned off with yellow barricade tape.
The gurney next to the ambulance appeared to have a body on it, sealed up in a black bag. The paramedics were just about to load it into the ambulance.
An attractive young woman, dressed in brown slacks and a white blouse spotted Angelica from across the street. She quickly rushed over to the girl with outstretched arms.
“Angie?”
Angelica’s face went numb when she heard her name. It told her everything she needed to know… Her father was the one in the bag.
So, at ten years old, Angelica became a ward of the state, her father having died when he stepped off the curb into oncoming traffic. Why he was outside, nobody will ever know.
Angelica spent the next seven years, nine months and fourteen days moving through the foster care system. Some of the houses she stayed in were better than others. Some of the families actually seemed to care…
It never took long for something to go wrong, though, and when it did, Angelica would turn to the picture of her mother.
Even if they were false, the memories she conjured up always made her feel more at home than any foster family ever could.
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