Lucy swiped her cheekbones with the dampened cotton wool, removing the last layer of make-up. Staring at her pallid reflection she wondered where she had gone awry. Why did she keep picking the wrong mother? All she had ever wanted was somebody to love her, to say the magic words and bring her home. Tilting the bottle of toner, she dabbed it onto another cotton wool pad. Lucy dragged it across her skin, shedding her persona as she returned to real life. But she could not leave her troubles behind. Her potential mothers were selfish bitches. They screamed and whined about how they wanted to get home, without even a thought for her. Nobody ever apologised, or asked her how she was feeling. And when they begged… why weren’t they pleading for forgiveness? Why weren’t they saying what a terrible mistake they had made? Time and time again she overlooked their hurtful comments in an effort to make things right.
Picking up the paddle brush, she eased it through her hair, staring unblinkingly at the mirror. She didn’t recognise the blank-faced person gazing back at her. She was a nobody, with no real identity or persona. Stepping out of real life had become a practice which made her feel real again. As if she mattered in the world. When she eased on her dress and wore her blonde curls a calmness spread over her. It was nice to be a child again, without boundaries or cares for the adult world. In the confines of the basement she was safe, and all attention was on her. And if pain was to be inflicted, she would be the one doing it. But all she wanted was to be graced with the life she deserved.
Barefooted, she hardly made a sound as she padded into the kitchen, pausing to gaze out the window to the streets below. She had truly believed Monica was the one, and she could have been had she not cracked her skull. She had not meant to hurt her, but a hysterical snapping woman would hardly qualify as the mother she had longed for all her life.
Her eyes strained against the daylight, and she wished she didn’t have to go outside. Lucy loved her underground space and the feelings it invoked. Her Christmas tree, the twinkling lights. From the minute she forced her way through the cobwebs and decay she had seen potential in the dank space.
Finding her mother had become an addiction which absorbed the pain inflicted by her past. And as for Ruby Preston? Lucy was enjoying their little game. Somehow it made real life more bearable as she integrated with the outside world. She smiled as she picked up the black-edged envelope, running her fingers over the rim. She was looking forward to her next contact. She had lots more in store for her.