I haven’t always been so tall. There was a time when I wasn’t even up to my mother’s waist. I was little. Yes, there was a time when I was a child. I’m sure it would a surprise to a lot of people that I was once a child. I wasn’t hatched from an egg nor was I born from a volcano. I hadn’t even sprung from the Earth fully grown. I was a very small child, in every sense of the word.
I started out very short. I was always very pale; I don’t know why that is since I have always gone outside often. I was thin, but that was probably because I had only just gotten into the hands of people that cared. I was also very, very scared.
One day, my new mother, my better mother, Missus Possible took me to the mall. The mall at the time represented absolute terror to me. I would have been more in favor of going to the lowest levels of Hell than entering that damnable mall.
It was my first time back in the mall since my better parents adopted me. I couldn’t step into the mall for quite a long time after the Possibles found me. I didn’t mean to be so troublesome when it came to the mall, but I couldn’t help it. I was completely and utterly terror stricken of that place. Missus Possible had tried to take me back there several times before that day and I just couldn’t do it. She didn’t want me to develop a phobia, so she always tried, but until that day I always fell to my knees and began shaking when she took me to the mall. I never cried because I promised myself to never cry in front of my good parents.
Still, whenever we went to the mall before that day, I always collapsed to the ground and just could not move. My body simply refused to move. Missus Possible never pressured me. She would always take me back home.
That time around, I made it through the front doors somehow without feeling like I was going to have eight heart attacks all at the same time. I used to imagine that the mall was a living organism, something that could devour me whenever it felt like it. Not a monster, or even a predator. Just a large organism that could swallow me whole whenever the urge ever came over it, like a whale. I was very surprised to not be in a stomach when I entered the mall. I actually let out a breath that I was subconsciously holding. I was still alive and in the mall; it amazed me.
I was holding Missus Possible’s hand when we went in, just like she told me to. I was obedient like that, much like a pet would be. She could have told me to yelp like a puppy and I would have. I would have done anything she told me to because I never wanted her or her husband to have a reason to want to get rid of me. I suppose it was a good thing that they are kind people or who knows what they might have had me doing when they realized how badly I wanted to stay with them.
Missus Possible was holding her daughter; I remember how wide I grinned when they told me that I had a baby sister. I thought of Kim as a sister from the first moment that I saw her. I was proud that they trusted me enough to say that she was my baby sister as soon as the adoption went through. I understood that it was a very important job to be a big sister and I always took it seriously.
Kim had just turned two when that day took place. It was during the era when I was the great protector from all and every monster in existence. If you don’t believe me, ask Kim. I protected her from monsters, being sort of an expert on the subject at the time; I knew monsters very well. She used to climb over the guardrail around her bed and sneak into my room to get away from all sorts of shadows that only a child can see. I have come to understand that most children go to parents for things like that, not their midget siblings. I can tell why that plan wouldn’t and didn’t work in our house.
Our parents are a rocket scientist and a brain surgeon. They are extremely logical beings, even though they are just as creative. If Kim or myself were to go to them and tell them that there was a monster in the closet, they wouldn’t check the closet. They would sit us down and explain to us why it wasn’t feasible for a monster to be in the closet.
Look, I don’t mind logic now, but when you’re three-feet-tall and lucky to be able to reach the doorknob, you want something a bit more reassuring than the Socratic Method, which was one of their favorite techniques for getting us to come to conclusions on our own. You want someone to check in the closet, reveal that it is empty, and say something like “I must’ve scared away the monster.” A child likes to think her parents can scare the shit out of a monster, pardon my language.
Well, to get back on track, I was holding Missus Possible’s hand. It was not a new concept to me as one might guess. Believe it or not, the woman that gave birth to me used to hold my hand all of the time. I believe now that it wasn’t that she was attempting to lose me when she left me places. Quite the contrary, she wanted to know right where she left me because she always came back. So, she always held onto me tightly until she came to the place that she wished be rid of me.
To this day, I wonder why I never ran after that woman when she began walking away from me. I always let go of her hand when she released me and stupidly waited for her like she wanted. It was as if I didn’t want to be with her, but I was too scared to be on my own completely. I knew that if I waited there long enough, she would come back. I often waited through rain, snow, harsh winds, and nights alone on the street. I’d just tell myself she would come back and she always did and I always left with her. It didn’t matter what I had gone through or what state of mind she was in, I left with her. I might not even be happy to see her, but whenever she showed up, I’d grab her hand and leave with her.
So, I was an expert at holding hands. Or at least, I assumed I was. Missus Possible was naïve to the practice, I’m certain of that. I never would have gotten away from that woman that gave birth to me, especially not as easily as I had gotten away from Missus Possible. You know, I didn’t mean to let go of her hand. I was so accustomed to larger hands gripping mine as if they were clamps and my hand was unbreakable.
Missus Possible held my hand differently. It was not as if our hands were shackles, but as if she was merely saying that she was there for me and she wanted me to be aware of that through her touch. As a child, you only vaguely realize these things and I’d like to think that I was a perceptive child. Yet, I let go.
Maybe it was because I was able to let go that I did; it was the first time that I was able to let go. Maybe I was frightened to have a mother that seemed to care about me beyond being some object that she used for attention. Or maybe it was because a chocolate-chip cookie the size of a bicycle wheel deserved a little attention. Yes, I stopped to stare at a huge cookie. I was five years old and cookies will always be good.
I was memorized by the giant cookie for the appropriate few seconds that a child would be. Then I realized that I wasn’t holding a soft hand anymore and worst yet, the smell of raspberries was fading; yes, I know her scent very well. She still uses a raspberry body lotion that I had committed to memory days after living with the Possibles. The aroma was fading, meaning I had stayed longer than I assumed and my adopted mother quite plausibly hadn’t noticed that she wasn’t tugging my very little body weight anymore. As I said, I was small in every sense of the word and I would have been quite surprised if she noticed my absence.
At first, I panicked. I was horrified, like a lion was charging me with its jaws open and displaying those three inch long canine teeth. It was a new type of terror for me. I doubt I can explain it even now. It was worse than jumping out of a plane and the parachute not opening. I suspect that it was like freezing to death. A sudden impact death is swift, quick. The moment after you realize that you’re going to die, you are dead. Freezing to death is a long, drawn out, and painful death all the while knowing that you’re going to die. I felt like that for a few moments. Okay, maybe it was longer than a few moments.
It was actually worst than when I realized that day that the woman that gave birth to me had abandoned me in that accursed place. No one was aware of the fact that I had actually been in the mall for over a week before the Possibles stumbled across me. I ate by stealing food from the tables at the food court. I washed my face in the fountains. I even managed to steal a new outfit to avoid smelling too horrible. Clever I was, but I doubt that I was smart. I mean, I still waited for that woman after all. Well, I would not wait again; not that Missus Possible compared to that woman.
Still, I decided that I wouldn’t wait again. I picked up my guts, courage, and my soul and ordered myself to not wait again. Why wait for someone that probably wasn’t going to come back? Why should Missus Possible come back, after all? It wasn’t like I was really her daughter. I was merely an urchin that she and Mister Possible picked up in that very mall. I figured that they would eventually dump me back there one day sooner or later to just be rid of me, which was another reason that I never wanted to go into the mall. How ironic, I thought; the first time back in that place after getting over my negative thoughts, they had come true. I had been abandoned in that damnable mall once again.
So what, I said to myself. You know, so what I had been left by the Possibles? I didn’t need them anyway, I told myself. They were weird anyway.
Yes, I thought they were weird. They were always hugging me and stuff like that. What kinds of parents hug you? None that I knew at the time. They read to me too. Oh, I thought that was extremely peculiar. I would always ask myself what kind of people read. I liked it, but still, I didn’t think people read to children at the time. I thought they were freaking weirdoes and that was why it was all right to not be with them anymore.
I didn’t like living with them anyway, I had confidently shouted in my head. They made me wake up early in the morning. When I used to live with the woman that gave birth to me, I got up whenever I felt like it. Sometimes, she would be in our rundown, roach-infested, mouse-infested apartment and sometimes, it was just all of us that weren’t paying rent, namely me, the roaches, and the mice. The Possibles were always home when I woke up and there weren’t any tiny critters in the house that weren’t paying rent, except for me and Kim.
Another thing that struck me as odd at the time was that whenever I woke up, there was always breakfast waiting for me. It was so bizarre. Missus Possible made hot cereals like oatmeal and things, which I had never experienced. I liked it, of course, but at the time, I told myself otherwise.
I told myself that they were weird and I would be better off without them. I walked off; I have no idea where I was even thinking about going at the time. I just strolled off with no money in my pockets and just the clothes on my back, swearing that I was going to be much better off on my own rather than with the Possibles. I didn’t even know what state I was in at the time; I couldn’t even tell time at the time. But, I swore that I was going to be better off.
It took some minutes and my circling the third floor a couple of times, for me to realize that I might actually miss the Possibles. I had chosen to stay with them when I had the chance, making sure not to tell anyone my family name or anything else important, so I couldn’t be sent back to that woman. While I admit that I wasn’t very smart, I wasn’t exactly stupid. The people that created me versus the Possibles, it wasn’t a fair contest.
Those people that created me, they weren’t close to the Possibles. They were nuts. They were scum. They were assholes. I knew I was lucky to get the hell away from them and I was so happy to get away from them. It wasn’t like that with the Possibles. I wasn’t happy to be separated from them.
Oh, to be five years old and lost in a personal hell while trying to swear that everything was going to be fine, I was overwrought in under an hour. I wanted my new mommy to come back for me. She had gone from Missus Possible in my head to “mommy” in about thirty minutes. I had gone from being on top of the world to being ready to fall apart without them. I don’t know, maybe it was because I was five or because I’m very crazy that I flip-flopped so easily. All I know, I wanted to go back to them and we hadn’t been parted for a whole hour yet.
I used to be separated from the woman that gave birth to me for days and to be quite honest, I didn’t care. I didn’t miss her once. I waited for her, yes, and I left with her whenever she wandered back to me, but I never missed her once. So, it was new to me to miss someone and it was frightening.
I felt lost in more than just my wanderings now. I didn’t understand and why I missed them at the time. I know now that I missed them because they were the type of parents that children deserve. They are loving, caring, warm, and concerned, which were things I wasn’t accustomed to at the time. I was much more familiar with being a ghost, a source of conflict, an object. I was just an object, a little trinket to those people that created me. To the Possibles, I was a human being and subconsciously, I missed that after losing it for only an hour.
I eventually wound up next the entrance of the mall, which was weird because I don’t recall getting on the escalator or getting in the elevator. I rubbed my forehead as I paced the front of the mall, wondering if I should leave the belly of the beast. The world was huge and I was so small, yet I would face the world alone if I exited that damnable mall.
I stared out of the glass doors; my fears grew exponentially with every second that passed. I was so anxious at that point that breathing was becoming a chore of me; my tiny chest ached with each inhale. I sincerely didn’t desire to be alone in such a frightening place as the world was, but I didn’t see any way around it. I mean, it was obvious to me that my parents, all four of them, didn’t want me.
Part of me wanted to cry at the thought of being unwanted by everyone. I must’ve been such a loathsome creature; I believed that at a very young age. I had to be a detestable thing because no one wanted me. I’d like to say that I didn’t pity myself, but I was five. A five-year-old doesn’t know much about pride or self-respect, making them just a little smarter than the adult population when it comes to certain things. I felt sorry for myself because I didn’t want to be a despised trinket.
I walked over to a fountain and looked at my reflection in the water. My hair was combed and brushed perfectly; Missus Possible wouldn’t have it any other way. She always made sure that I was presentable, not just my hair. Having my hair done was something that I appreciated even at that young age. Before her, my scalp used to always itch and my hair was like four different kinds of messes. Before her, I looked like the urchin that I was.
Missus Possible also made sure that my face was always clean; the woman that gave birth to me never seemed to care about that. My clothes were always clean and pressed when it came to Missus Possible. She was the person that took me to get my first pair of glasses, which I had on at the time. She was actually the first person to notice that I required glasses. She was such a nice person, so why didn’t she want me, I wondered.
I wanted to know why a person like Missus Possible would leave me in that fucking mall! Was it because I was not her real daughter? Was it because I was annoying? Was it because she didn’t really like me? I had already come to understand that I wasn’t likable. Those people that created me used to argue over me all of the time while I was standing right there; no, they didn’t like me much at all.
I studied my very pale face in the fountain water and tried so hard to figure out what was so disagreeable about me. I came to the conclusion that it was because I was so small. It was what made me so different from those that disliked me. They were big and I was small. They were healthy complexions and I was pale, like a doll, a little trinket. Yes, I was just a trinket and they were people. That had to be it, I decided. I wasn’t really a person, just a thing.
“Trin!” I heard Mister Possible call.
I turned my head as he came toward me. He grabbed me into a tight hug; I didn’t tell him, but it hurt a little bit. I didn’t understand why he embraced me anyway. I didn’t get the whole hugging thing; I still don’t really get it.
Mister Possible then put me down on the ground and went into something that I understood very well, he began reprimanding me for wandering away from Missus Possible. I took all of the scolding without interrupting him. I figured that if I let him admonish me, maybe even hit me if he wanted to, then maybe he’d take me back home with him. I just wanted to have a home to go to. The worst thing that he could have done to me was to leave me there.
Of course, he didn’t leave me there; I know for a fact that he never even thought to do something so cruel. Once he finished scolding me, he picked me up to go home. I was so relieved, even though I was hurt for being yelled at; I was five and no five-year-old wanted to be yelled at. At least he hadn’t hit me, I thought at the time. The man that helped create me, he used to hit me when I saw him, which was why I wouldn’t have minded if Mister Possible hit him. But, he never did hit him. The Possibles never physically hurt me.
Mister Possible took me out to the car, where his wife was waiting in the front seat. She opened her door and grabbed me from her husband. She hugged me tightly, just like Mister Possible had done. She cried tears of joy when she was holding me.
“I thought I lost you, Trin. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry,” Missus Possible apologized to me. It was the first time that someone apologized to me. It was the first time that something wasn’t my fault.
“It’s okay…Mommy,” I said. It was the first time that I had ever used that term, not just for her, but ever. It was that day that I realized I was a Possible. They were my parents and I was their daughter.
Next time: Trin meets Shin, much to the rest of the world’s dismay.
A/N: I’m sort of experimenting with the first person POV. I’m not very comfortable with it, so I need to know if it’s good or not. Let me know. Also, this won’t be updated as quickly as I usually do because I’ve merrily bitten off more than I can chew and I’m now gladly choking. I should be able to update like once a week, but don’t hold me to that. School is killing me and it just started last month.