Fairies of Light

by J. E Hanson

  The Enforcers

  Fairies Of Light

  J.E. Hanson

  Copyright 2013 J.E. Hanson

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced,

  or used in any manner without the express written permission of the

  publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any

  written, electronic, recording, or photocopying

  without the written permission of the

  author, J.E. Hanson.

  ~~~***~~~

  All characters, places appearing in this work are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  ~~~***~~~

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN-13: 978-1500273422

  ISBN-10: 1500273422

  ~~~***~~~

  Illustration and front cover creation by:

  Kellie Dennis-Book Cover by Design.

  www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk or

  www.facebook.com/bookcoverbydesign

  ~~~***~~~

  Questions or comments can be directed here:

  https://www.facebook.com/jehansonwriter

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 1

  The windows have dirty and muddy handprints. The people keep us in here, so that we don’t try any funny business. I stand next to a window, and watch the leaves twist in the breeze. The place across from us has slides, swings, and other weird things. There are kids of all ages with their parents. I stare at a daddy playing with his daughter. They laugh, and they appear happy together. I wish that was me, but it’s not.

  One of these days, someone is gonna want to take me home, but nobody wants me though. I am over the age, and it’s no longer cutesy for families to want me anymore. I wish I were just like that girl. Life is not fair! So far, mine is going this way. My social worker moves me from house to house. I can’t wait to bust outta this dump! Awe shucks! Who am I kidding? I’m never gonna know what it feels like to have a love like that. All I want is for someone out there to love me. I want to eat at a table with a mommy and a daddy. I don’t even know what a brother, or a sister feels like. I just want a mommy, who will brush my hair. And I want a daddy, who will keep me safe, by chasing all the scary monsters from my closet. I want a grandma and grandpa to tell me, what the past is like from the good ole days. I could be a big sister or even a little sister too! Why won’t they take a chance on me? I can wash, cook, and I promise to keep my room clean. I just want to be a part of a family.

  Just as Marisa told me, I am stuck here forever. Marisa is the oldest girl here. She knows better than the rest of us, what it feels like to bounce from home to home, and feeling unwanted. I have been here for a very long time. I always have chances to be a part of a family, but I have always done something stupid to bring me back to Ms. Crabtree. She is the woman who is in charge of my case.

  Marisa Jones walks over to me, “I heard that they’re moving you today.”

  “I hope not!”

  Marisa shakes her head at me, and she leaves me alone. The other girls are mean, but Marisa is sort of my only friend. The meaner girls kick, and hit me. She always keeps an eye on me, since nobody messes with her.

  Ms. Crabtree wears that stinky perfume on her body, and it smells disgusting. She joins me in the room, and she is bossing me around, “You have to take a shower, and then come right back here to me. I will brush your hair out, so that you will look more presentable to the Jeffries today.”

  I never whine, but I roll my eyes at her. My raggedy towel will dry my tiny body off. You have better not turn your back in here, because those mean girls will cut you up in a split second.

  She paces back and forth, because I can hear her heels smack across the floor, “Hurry up Rose, I am waiting!”

  I scrub myself and keep an open eye on the door. The rusty shower nozzle looks yucky, because it hasn’t been cleaned in a long time. On my skin, you can see burn marks from all the bad homes. They moved me to ten different homes.

  Only one of them I really liked, but she had a stroke before she could fully adopt me. Her name was Mrs. Spears. She wanted children badly, but Mr. Spears was lame from what she said. Mr. Spears never wanted any kids. When her husband died, she chose to look for a cutesy child to adopt. She chose me from all the others. She taught me how to tell the difference between a flower and a weed. She even made the most tasty chocolate chip cookies and snickerdoodles in the whole wide world! Mrs. Spears, was the only one, who was aware of my iron and lemon allergies. If I have any of those two it will make me really sick, and I have to go back to the hospital.

  Ms. Crabtree wants me to wear that itchy dress with those ugly dress shoes again. She jerks hard on my hair, and she makes me cry out from all her rough yanks.

  “Stop being such a crybaby!” she yells. She jerks my head straight, “You need to keep you head still!”

  I won’t even argue with the woman. The last time I did that, she slapped me across the room. Through all the hard tugs, jerks, and the tears, she continues to pull and twist my hair. She even shoves what clothes and books I have in my suitcase.

  My favorite books are mystery books. I love the “Nancy Drew” series. Nancy can escape from tight places, and she always gets the bad guys. I want to be like her someday. Ms. Crabtree yanks me hard by my arm.

  She says that she’s overworked, underpaid, and overstressed. She always complains about having too many cases and not enough help. She never has the time to date either.

  She pushes a button, and then she releases me from the “Group Home for Girls.” “I’m placing Rose with the Jeffries today,” she tells the other women, who are behind the glass window.

  She opens her rear car door to her Pontiac Grand Am, and then she pushes me in. The sun continues to shine brightly here in Iowa. I love and need the sun. I can even draw a happy face on the sun. Today, she sings a religious song, “Jesus Loves Me.” For someone so mean, she sure does pray a lot.

  I try to stay awake, but the car ride puts me to sleep with the sun kissing my face. I often dream of what my mommy and daddy look like. I’ve never met my parents. Ms. Crabtree found me in a closet underneath a pink blanket. Someone called her to let her know that I was all alone.

  The only thing she found was a necklace that says “ROS” on it, and the rest of the locket is missing words. My locket has a keyhole in it, except she never found the key to my locket. When she moves me to a new home, I have to hide the locket inside my teddy bear. People have tried to steal it from me a few times. When I was a baby, Ms. Crabtree kept it with her, but now it’s my responsibility. She even named me Rose, because I look like a rose with my red hair. The other thing I have with me is my pink blanket, and it has these three letters on it, “RSO.” Those letters could mean anything. I was only four months old, when she found me at the bottom of a closet with my pink blanket.

  She drove for another long hour. There are no hills or mountains here. The land is flat with corn everywhere.

  She stops her Grand Am at a fami
ly restaurant, and this is the only time she buys me a meal. The juice doesn’t have any lemons in it. I eat my food quickly, because I’m about to move to a new home in a few minutes. This is how she always rewards me. It feels like a bribe for the house she’s taking me to. This doesn’t look good. She might as well give me a death sentence. After my yummy meal, we return to her car. The boring drive continues down a graveled driveway. She parks the Grand Am outside an ugly looking house. The shudders are falling off this house, and the white paint is chipping away from the house too. The lawn out front needs a good mowing. There are no pretty flowers or plants just weeds and tall grass.

  A crazy looking woman runs outside her house in a loud voice, “We are so grateful that you chose us to take care of this darling little angel!”

  The woman is wearing a tight pair of knee high black pants with red high heels. Her top is red with blue polka dots. Her choices in clothes are awful on her.

  Ms. Crabtree gives her my suitcase, for which the woman barely lifts with two fingers. The grey doggy sits outside on a chain in the backyard. He seems hungry, because you can see his bones popping out of his skin. He doesn’t even have a doghouse either, and that poor doggy seems so sad too. If they have trouble taking care of their doggy, how are they gonna take care of me? This is a really bad sign.

  This woman is not a good choice for me. I have been in many homes, and I know what this home is gonna be like. The woman even asks about the amount of money she will get from taking me in. I try to hide behind Ms. Crabtree.

  The woman walks over to me, and she yanks my arm hard. I can feel my shoulder pop from the hard tug, “Time to show you your room, little darling!”

  I look behind me, but Ms. Crabtree drove off, and she never even looks at me either.

  The new mom drags me through the yard, “Now… come along dearie! I can’t wait to show you where your new room is.”

  She pushes me inside her house. I can see a cigarette burning in the ashtray, and a bottle of alcohol sitting on a dinner stand.

  The woman throws me into a very small room, “You need to change out of your clothes, because I have a list of shit you need to do.”

  The new mom throws my suitcase in the bedroom, and I want to cry. I fell down on my knees to pray with all my might, “Dear God, please protect me and I’m so sorry, if I was a bad baby.”

  The itchy dress with the itchy stockings returns to my suitcase, and my small dress shoes lay on the floor. My new bedroom doesn’t even have a dresser or a closet. She only gives me a filthy mattress with holes, and it lays on the floor. I take my pink blanket out, and I hug it tightly. My blanket now rests on the dirty mattress. The only other set of clothes I have is a shirt with holes and a pair of blue jean shorts.

  My feet need bigger socks and tennis shoes. These socks are two sizes too small for my feet. The tennis shoes have large holes in the soles, and grey tape covers the larger holes. My shoes leak, but I won’t ask anyone for new shoes. The last time I asked for shoes, people broke my leg. This is not all they do. I don’t like people playing chicken with me either. What they like to do is take a lit cigarette, and burn my arms—or legs with it. It hurts badly, when they do that. This is much worse than the broken bones. The burns leave nasty scars on my skin.

  “You get your ass out here right this instant! Hurry the fuck up!” Mrs. Jeffries screams.

  I start to shake from her screams, and I cautiously walk out of my new bedroom, but the woman jerks me hard by my red hair, “When I tell you to fucking do something, you better damn well do it!”

  She shoves a blue bucket, a nasty rag, and cleaning solutions in my hands. She flicks her ashes right on the floor, “You need to vacuum, wash the dishes, clean the kitchen, sweep the floors, mop all the floors, clean the bathroom, do the laundry, feed the dog, and clean all the bedrooms. You have precisely eight hours to get it all done—or you will face my consequences. Everything you do better be spotless too! You better get fucking busy! I have my shows that I need to fucking watch.”

  I pull my hair up in a ponytail. The kitchen needs the most cleaning first. There are dishes all over the counter, and dirt everywhere.

  Luckily, they give me a solution without any lemons in it, because I’m allergic to lemons. The dishes are the easiest to clean, and I start with those first. There is nasty greasy stuff stuck on the bottom of the pans. The black grease makes me want to throw up. The dishes appear as if they have been sitting in the sink for weeks. I will do whatever they want just so I don’t get another beating. I don’t want to go back to the group home either. I will do anything just to be a part of a family. I’m a great little worker too.

  So far, this woman is being mean to me. I’ve never seen anyone suck down alcohol, the way that Mrs. Jeffries does. I scrub as fast as I can. Their nasty clothes are in the washer, with an extra capful of laundry soap to make sure their clothes get clean.

  Their nasty toilet needs a good scrubbing, but Mrs. Jeffries joins me in the bathroom, “Get the fuck out! I need to take a big shit right now!”

  I do whatever she wants and leave. The heavy vacuum cleaner is hard to push around, but the floors need vacuumed.

  I make great time until her daughter comes home. Kayla Jeffries starts to laugh at me as she purposely pours her red drink all over the clean floor, “My mom only took you in, so we can go to Florida this year. She doesn’t give a shit about you either. I’m her only kid, and you’re just the hired help.”

  Kayla leaves, and then she returns a few minutes later with another red drink in her hand. She purposely pours it all over the floor for a second time, “Whoops! It looks like you had better mop up the kitchen floor again.” I want to say something nasty, but her mom might beat me.

  I make sure their doggy has an extra scoop of doggy food, because he’s starving. Poor little guy. At first, he growls, and then he barks at me. Once he sniffs me, he calms down. I also love animals, and they love me too. I even make sure that he has fresh water. I think I’m gonna name him Jazzy.

  Jazzy licks my face, “I will make sure you have food, but you need to eat buddy.” Jazzy licks me in the face again, and I swear he’s smiling at me. I skip inside the house to dust all their furniture off. The bathrooms need another good cleaning.

  The front door slams hard behind me. A man with black hair shows up, and he doesn’t seem happy either, “Who the fucks is you?” He doesn’t sound so bright either.

  Mrs. Jeffries pats my head, “She’s our new foster child, and she’s proven herself useful. Look at how spotless our house is now. Isn’t she darling?”

  “You kid, needs to cooks my fucking dinner! NOW MOVES IT!” the man orders nastily.

  I’m so glad that Mrs. Spears taught me how to cook. I cook the hamburgers he threw on the counter with a frying pan. I use a chair to help me. I make dinner for them, but they won’t allow me to eat any of their food until they are full.

  Kayla has short brown hair with small brown eyes. She’s a big girl, and she makes sure her plate is full. Sadly, her ankles are swelling over her shoes. Her clothes are too small and too tight for her. She needs bigger clothes too. I feel sorry for her.

  Mr. Jeffries throws the plates at me, “Clean the fucking dishes, and then you get your ass to bed! You damn well better be up, by four o'clock in the morning to make us breakfast!”

  By the time, they finish eating; they left me with hardly any food. I stole a small burger earlier, and hid it in my bedroom. My burger is the only thing I eat, and I ate it on my dirty mattress. I’m too scared to fall asleep, but my eyes feel heavy. I wipe the grease off my hands, and over their dirty carpet. My blanket protects me at night, and I have a habit of sucking my thumb. These people scare me with what they might do next.

  The light pops on, and a leather belt stings my back. The pain throbs through my body, and it feels as if my skin is ripping apart.

  “I told you to make sure that you’re up! Now I’m going to be fucking late, because you’re unable to tell the fucki
ng time!” The man said a bad word again.

  The belt cracks hard against my skin, and I scream out from the pain. That leather belt stings badly. My body feels like blood is coming out. The belt cracks hard against my body again. I try to hide from them, but Mr. Jeffries jerks my arm hard, and he pops my arm. The pain shoots through my arm and to my neck.

  He throws me on the kitchen floor, “Get to cooking! You had better fucking do it now, before I gives you something else to fucking cry about!”

  They start the stove, and then they order me to make them scrambled eggs with bacon. I don’t want my back to have any more stings from his leather belt. It has three fresh marks on it, and it still stings badly. I will hope and pray that this won’t leave another scar.

  “Get out, you nasty girl! You have no business being in my bathroom!” Kayla Jeffries yells too. She jumps on the hardwood floor, and the boards shake. I leave her alone, so I can wash all those dishes again.

  ~~~***~~~

  Since it is dinner, I have to feed the foster family. I have to make them fried chicken. The oil from the deep fryer pops against my arm.

  But, there’s something different about the dish soap this time. They bought a dish soap made with lemons. I try to squeeze out the soap from the other bottle.

  “You need to use the other fucking dish soap,” Mrs. Jeffries said the f-word again.

  I ignore her, and try to squeeze the dish soap from the old bottle.

  This makes her angry, and she threw the old bottle in the trash, “Are you fucking stupid? I told you to use the other fucking bottle!”

  I can no longer take it, “That dish soap will kill me! It will make me really sick, if I touch that soap!” I yelled at the mean woman.

  The woman slaps me hard in the face with the back of her hand. My body hits the kitchen floor hard, and then she hits me again with more force. It is hard to hold back the tears.