Karen paused as she picked up her handbag from the shelf where the workers of the soapland kept their belongings. Finally, her shift was over, and she could go home. Home, which was home only to her, and cold and silent except when she had company over. Most of the time, her company were her colleagues, and they saw each other enough at work, so she didn't have guests very often. Home was always empty.
But then, hasn't it always been? At least home now is comfortable.
Waving goodbye to the others lounging around the room, she plunged into the cold street.
She took the back lane, preferring its embrace to the far tighter one of the main street, which most people used. Snowflakes drifted lazily down, lining her fiery red hair. The street was quiet. Karen hated it, but she was also drawn to it. Streets like this were all she had to remind her of her mother.
The snow fell, thicker this time, and Karen continued walking. It was cold, too cold, and she was wearing only a coat over her work clothes. She looked around. If there was no one around, she might be able to warm up with a little fire.
Then she felt a sense of deja vu strike her as her eyes picked up a shadow cowering in the dark.
A girl, of no more than six or seven, with filthy, tangled dark hair. Karen moved closer, taking cautious, measured steps, so as not to alarm the girl. Quietly, she said, "Hi." The child looked up, and stared at Karen, saying nothing. On closer inspection, she was older than Karen had first thought, perhaps as old as nine or ten, only painfully thin and underdeveloped. She looked into the child's face, and was lost. How many years ago, had this been Karen herself?
"Where are your parents?"
Silence. The girl's eyes never wavered from Karen's face.
She tried again. "Is there anybody taking care of you? A guardian? An aunt or an uncle? Why are you out here?"
Karen waved a hand in front of the girl, trying to get a response. But she neither moved nor flinched. She sighed, then smiled at the child. "Would you, then, like to come with me?"
Silence.
Karen looked at the child imploringly, then extended a hand towards her.
The child flinched.
She snatched her hand back, immediately. In moving, the child had allowed Karen to notice something that she hadn't before- under a shift of rags, the child was shivering. Without hesitation, Karen stripped off her coat, and put it about the child, whose eyes widened slightly at the sight of her work clothes. "We need to get out of the cold, you and I both," She said, simply.
Slowly, the child rose from her hiding place in the shadows. She took a step forward, tottering slightly and blinking at the sudden light. Karen extended her hand to her, again, and this time the child took it. A smile lit up Karen's face, as together, they started down the snow-covered alley.
----
Sleeping, clean and well fed- or at least with some food in him, the child looked angelic. Still far too thin, with hollows in his cheeks, and dark circles under his eyes, perhaps, but infinitely carefree and innocent.
This could be a scene from a fairy tale, thought Karen. All we're missing is the merrily burning fire in the fireplace. When they had reached Karen's apartment, she had sat the child on the sofa, and then thrust some food at him, which he had devoured hungrily, still without a single word. She left him there for a while, going to the kitchen for more food, and when she returned, he had fallen asleep, with a bread roll still clutched in his hand, as angelic a picture as could be, barring the ugly purple bruise on his right cheek.
So she had bathed the child, and that was how she had found out that she was really a he, and that his emancipated body was covered all through with black and blue. Sleeping like this, though, warmly wrapped up in a blanket on Karen's bed, there was no outward sign of his injuries except for the large bruise on his cheek. His long hair was fine and silky, a beautiful rich black that she'd never seen elsewhere other than on Kamui.
As she watched him sleeping, she wondered where he had come from. He was an abused child, that she was sure of, as she recounted the numerous injuries that marred his fair skin. A runaway? Abandoned? Or.. had his mother died, like hers? What was she to do with him? She was only a Soapland Hostess, who knew nothing at all about children. Much less an obviously abused child like this one.. Then she smiled. It was all the stress of work getting to her, really. She didn't have to take care of this child, he was just a maybe parentless, maybe homeless child that she had rescued from the streets. Tommorrow she would call his parents or guardians, or even the police, and he would be safe and warm in a house that wasn't empty, where there would be people who would take care of him.
Karen relaxed. What in the world had given her the absurd idea that she would have to take care of him?
She got up from her perch in the chair and pitched some cushions and blankets on the floor. While the sofa outside was more comfortable, she wanted to be in the same room in case the child was the sort who had nightmares while sleeping. Then at least he would have the comfort of someone who would try to help.. Karen smiled, a sad smile meant only for herself, and switched off the lights.
----
Cold. It was horribly cold, and she was freezing up and she would never be able to see Mama again, because when she died she would be in hell forever, like the devil's child she was should be. Karen clutched the ragged remains of her dress and huddled in the street where Mama had left her to spend the night in punishment. She shouldn't make the fire. It was bad, it was the sign of the devil, and Mama would be so angry if she did.. but it was so cold, just so cold. Surely a little flame wouldn't hurt, not if Mama didn't see her..
Karen glanced around. There was no one in sight, no one to see her if she kindled a little flame. Surely it wouldn't hurt, just a little bit of fire. She raised her palm and concentrated, thinking of how she would like to be warm, and how that pretty flame would help her. And the flames came. They always came. For a moment she was warm, and there was pretty light again in the cold dark alleyway.
Then the shadow came. Darkness fell over her, and dimmed the radiance of the flame, even though it still burned merrily in her palm. "M-mama!" Karen cried, panicked. Her mind raced, trying to think of explanations, of a way that she could use to make mama less disappointed in her. But her mother's eyes bored into her, and Karen could see the rage that burned in them, the disappointment, as bright as the fire in her hand.
"Scum. Demonspawn." She spat, voice acid with anger. "I leave you here to be purified, and here you are, consorting with the very devil himself!"
Karen cringed at the tone of her voice. Then she saw the heavy rod hurtling towards her, and screamed.
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The flame went out.
The first thing that Karen noticed when she woke up was that her throat was raw, as if she had screamed her lungs out. As she came to full conciousness she also realised that she was lying on the floor of her bedroom, in a mess of the spare blankets. What had happened? Groaning, she sat up, rubbing her forehead. It had been a hell of a night, however she had chosen to spend it. Then she glanced at the sleeping figure on the bed, and it all came back to her.
God. What had she gotten herself into, this time? Shoving those thoughts away, she forced her wobbly legs to bear her wieght, and stumbled towards the bed. Good. At least the child was still asleep, though how he had managed to sleep through all the ruckus indicated by the state of her throat eluded her.
She leaned on the wall, just watching. By daylight, she noticed things that hadn't been obvious before, even in the harsh lights of her apartment. The hollows in his cheeks, for example, and the tension at the shoulders, even asleep.. Karen watched until the numbness in her legs receded. Then she made her way to the bathroom.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
She had managed to hide most of the traces of the night before by the time he woke up. Breakfast was a simple affair of rice and instant miso soup- the closest things to a healthy breakfast that she kept in the house. It seemed strange to be awake so early- with the hours a soap girl kept, noon was usually about as early as she chose to get up. And she had no idea when her guest would awake.
Karen placed the miso soup in its pot on the stove, ready for heating up when the boy awoke. She'd let him sleep for a while longer- there was no hurry, although his parents might be worried. But then any parent who let her child be treated like that deserved a little worry. Karen left the rice in the cooker, the dial set to "warm".
What now? She wasn't due for work until later that afternoon, and her usual poisons of listening to music and watching television were out, because of the sleeping boy. Housework, then. Or a book. Something to fill the emptiness that was her life.
Karen found herself moving in the general direction of her bedroom, although why she did so she wasn't quite sure. The boy was still sleeping on her bed. Seemingly, he hadn't stirred since she had woken up. She placed a slim hand on his forehead, brushing away some of the smooth black strands of hair that fell over his face, obscuring it. No fever, which both surprised and relieved her, considering the unknown amount of time he had spent out in the cold of the streets.
The boy stirred at her light touch, turning towards her in the bed. "Mama.." He moaned, his voice barely a whisper in the silent apartment.
Karen froze, her hand still stroking the boy's hair.
/Mama../
Rising from her position beside the boy, she turned and fled.