Words had completely deserted me, and all I could do was stare at her, this woman who claimed to be my mother. She had the same slight build as me, and she was dressed in a black skirt and leather boots, her white jacket had a heavy ring of fur around the hood. She looked like someone I would have made fun of only days ago. Someone who’d been born into money.

She was still talking, telling me how good it was to see how I’d grown, how she’d dreamed of meeting me for years. Her words were suddenly hollow, echoing in my ears as thought they came from miles away. The rushing noise of my blood in my ears was overwhelming as hot fury hit me from all sides. My fingers curled into fists and my jaw clenched painfully.

How dare she babble on about it, like we’re distant relatives of some kind, like it’s no big deal she abandoned me. Does she think everything is going to be great now? That I’m going to start calling her mom?

Her words trailed off. Something in my face must have alerted her that her perfect family reunion wasn’t going so well.

“Jessica, is everything alright?"

"No, it's not alright!" I exploded, "how can you possibly think anything is alright? Why should I pretend to be happy to see you? Why should I act like you didn't ruin my life?"

The shocked look on her face was gratifying, filling me with a kind of savage pleasure, so I continued my attack, "You must have had some idea what dad is like, considering you two obviously spent some quality time together creating me," the idea was gross when I thought about it, but I was just getting warmed up, so I didn't let it derail me, "you had to have known about his temper, about how violent he gets when he drinks. Or if he didn't drink until you left, apparently you people have been keeping tabs on me, so why the hell would you let a little kid live in a place like that? Why didn't you take me away from him?" 

I didn't say what I really was thinking. That back when I was little, hiding in the dark corners of the house from the raging acholic that was my father, I had dreamed of something like that happening, about my mother swooping in and taking me away. Or even some kind hearted stranger passing by on the street. In my imagination they would hear the shouting and crashing, the sound of bottles breaking, and they would storm inside and punch dad in the face and then carry me away to live happily ever after with a new mother and father. Of course, it never happened.

The only thing that did happen was a few trips to the school shrink, and a visit or two by a pair of grim social workers. Dad would always manage to pull himself together for those visits, and as a kid I was almost as afraid of them as I was of him, so there was no help from anywhere.

The woman in front of me, my mother, looked deflated suddenly. Her smile drooped and her shoulders hunched a little, as if I was physically attacking her, "Jessica, I'm sorry." She gestured at the arm chair by the fire across from hers. "Please, sit down. We have so much to talk about. There is a reason I had to leave you there, though it may  not be a good one."

I walked over and sat down across from her, eyeing her distrustfully.

She sunk back into her chair with a sigh, "let's start over. My name is Kari, and yes, I was with your father for years," Kari edged forward in her seat, eyes searching my face anxiously, "but I was being irrasponsible, running from my destiny, from my people. They needed me, and I cast them off for a human."

I glared at her, "so then you had so much resposibility that you couldn't have a little kid getting in the way, right?"

She flinched, "No, it wasn't that. I would have gladly taken you with me if I could have. The problem was that if I had, I would have put you in grave danger. The King and Queen very much want me dead, and anyone around me comes under fire because of this. Jessica, don't you see? It would have been miserable life. A life of constant running and hiding, dodging soliders and fighting battles..."

"Yeah," I said sarcastically, "and the life I ended up having was so much better. Just full of rum drenched nights of hiding in the closet from my dad, and when I didn't hide fast enough, trips to the hospital to set broken bones. It was so much better."

Tears welled up in Kari's eyes, and she stammered, "I didn't...my men didn't report the full details..."

"No, I guess they didn't."

We were both silent for a minute, and then Kari's voice, trembling in the silence, "All I can say is that I'm terribly, desperatly sorry, Jessica. And that things will be different now."

Her warm hands were suddenly on mine, and I could smell a wiff of something flowery as she leaned forward. I had to fight the impulse to yank my hands out of her grasp. She continued, "I'm going to keep you safe now. I'm going to teach you how to control the fire so you don't have to worry about it anymore, and if you like, you can go back home...or you can stay with us and join our cause. If you do choose to stay, I will always gaurantee you a warm bed and a roof over your head, and as much love as I can give you. I know it will take a long while before you trust me again. Please believe I really want to make up for what I did to you."

I mumbled something, nothing that even made sense, but she seemed to take it for an affirmation. I was glad when she released my hands and sat back. She was smiling slightly, but my thoughts were still just one big tangled mess. I didn't know what to feel. Part of me, a part I didn't want to to admit to myself, was feeling the intense longing to belong here, to call her "mom" and let myself believe she really cared. Most of the rest of me was a mixture of hostile distrust and loathing though...

Kari smiled at me, "Thank you for being so understanding, Jess. May I call you Jess?"

I only nodded, and she said, "Wonderful. Trent will show you to your room now, and in the morning we'll all eat breakfast together," again she reached out and this time, brushed a finger across the top of my hand, "very much like a family. I think you'll see that your people will welcome you in. We really are nothing but one big extended family, Jess. I think you'll grow to like it here."

She reached over and pulled a velvet tassle that hung from the roof, something I hadn't even noticed before, and after a moment there was the soft thumping of footsteps from the hallway and the door opened a crack. Trent's brown eye peered through it, "all ready?"

"Go on, Jess. Have a good sleep, dear."

I turned without saying anything, a pang hitting my stomach at the word "dear" coming from her. I couldn't tell if I was excited or disgusted to hear it from her. My brain kept going over it again and again.

She's my mother. That's my mother. My mother.

I resolved not to call her that. It would just be too weird. It was way too soon.

When I got out into the hall, Trent was standing there waiting for me, leaning against the opposite wall. He straightened up and flashed me an anxious grin, "how did it go? How do you feel? Are you alright?"

I blinked at the onslaught of questions, "it was...okay."

He nodded, face curious, but luckily he was smart enough not to say anything else while we were still out in the hall, "come on, I'll show you upstairs to your room."

A few flights of stairs revealed that the house was even bigger than I'd first thought. Finally we arrived in a long hallway with dark wooden floors and old oil lamps on the walls. None of them were lit, there were florescent lights on the ceiling, but it still gave the place an old-fashioned bed and breakfast feel. Trent directed me to the first door on the right, and the hinges creaked in protest as we passed through the door.

It wasn't anything fancy, but it was nicer than my bedroom at home. It was spotless for one thing, not a speck of dust on the tall, skinny wooden dresser and nightstand. The bed was a double, with arching headboards on both ends, and the green comforter on top looked poofy and comfortable. There was an old fashioned mirror and a silver hairbrush on the top of the dresser, and a little square box that I told myself I would snoop through later, when Trent was gone.

"How do you like it?" His voice was eager, as if he'd be crushed if I said I hated the room.

I did my best to force a smile, "it's very nice." I shuffled over to the bed and sat down, and it recieved me with a slight squeak of rusted springs. It was soft though, and the comforter was fluffy beneath my hands. I sighed, "the bed is nice."

Trent hesitated, and then sat down on the bed beside me, "are you really okay? You look...overwhelmed."

"I am a bit," I admitted, "I'm really..." I trailed off. I wanted to say I wasn't sure about my mother, about trusting her, or even if I liked her. But who was I kidding. Trent worked for her. He was the one that brought me to her in the first place. Of course he was firmly on her side.

He smiled knowingly at me, "don't worry, you can say what you want in front of me. It's perfectly normal to be unsure of someone you just met. Especially someone claiming to be your mother. And you don't have to worry about me repeating anything you say to her. It doesn't work that way. Nobody here is her lackey, we're a team. And I can understand if you think you don't like her, or you distrust her. You just met her, and what reason has she given you to trust her yet?"

"It's just..." I hesitated, bursting to tell him, to tell someone, but still nervous about it finding its way back to my mother, "she abondoned me, Trent. I lived with that....that ass hole, my dad, for years. Did you know he broke my jaw once? Not that long ago either. I was in the hosiptal for ages and I couldn't eat. Had to drink through a straw." I rubbed at my jaw abscent mindedly. When I looked down I was suprised to see Trent was clutching at the comforter with both fists. I glanced up at him. His face had colored slightly, cheeks red.

He took a deep breath, "I wish I'd been there..." he seemed incapable of continuing the sentance.

I shrugged, "that's just it. That woman, Kari or whatever. She says she's my mother. But she was never there. She wasn't with me all those times I went to the hospital because of him. She didn't try to stop it. I just don't know how I'm supposed to suddenly call her mom."

Trent's face darkened, "Jess, what happened to you was terrible. And it makes me angry just thinking about it. I wish I could beat your dad's face in, to be honest. And Kari made a lot of mistakes, all things she regrets. She's sorry, she's really upset. I can't make you trust her," he edged sideways on the bed, closer to me, until our legs were nearly touching, "but I hope you can trust me."

His hand brushed mine, just for a split second, and it sent tingles over my skin. His voice was low and serious, "I'm not going to let him touch you again, not ever. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore."