Monsters don't always hide under the bed...
Disclaimer: I own no part of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Stargate SG1.
She sat there staring at the small stick in her hand, too shocked to fully comprehend its meaning. Glancing at the closed bathroom door, picturing her mother passed out on the couch in the room beyond, empty bottles littering the floor around her...how was she supposed to handle this?
Her mind flashed back to a month ago, to her mother’s man of the moment...he’d made her skin crawl from the moment she met him, and she knew enough to make sure never to get stuck in a room alone with him. All she needed to do was be careful for a few weeks or so – her mum’s boyfriends never really hung around longer than that. It should’ve been so easy, just to be careful, but she’d been tired and in her tiredness had forgotten to lock her bedroom door. Such a stupid mistake! That was the first thought that crossed her mind when she had woken to find his face mere inches from her own. Her cries hadn’t woken her drunken mother at first, but something must’ve eventually penetrated her alcohol induced stupor, as she finally stumbled through her door.
Her mother had pulled the monster off her and dragged him from the room, screaming at him to leave. Curled up on her bed, she cried softly, and when her mother returned to the room she reached for her, longing for the comfort only a mother could give. To say the slap was unexpected would be understating things a little. The screams that followed were even more shocking to her distraught mind. ‘Whore!’, ‘slut!’, ‘dirty little thief!’...each one punctuated by another slap, though at that point those hardly registered. Finally the adrenaline must’ve worn off, and her mother returned to her previous drunken slumber, this time on her bedroom floor.
She had crept from the room, and locked herself in the bathroom. She had cried throughout her shower, and then cried some more as she curled up on the floor with a towel hung loosely around her shoulders. Eventually she had cried herself to sleep.
The next day the only sign that anything had happened was the lack of a male presence in the apartment. Her mother said nothing, and so she, in turn, said nothing. It had been going on like that for a month, both pretending that nothing had happened that night.
Now that wasn’t going to work anymore. At 14years old, Faith was pregnant.
Faith crept quietly around the small apartment grabbing what few possessions she had and placing them in the small tattered duffel bag. One thing she knew for certain was that she couldn’t stay here, not now. She had no idea how her mother would react if she told her, but she was sure it wouldn’t be good.
She had eight months to sort something out, something other than bringing her child into the same hellhole she’d been raised in. She had no money, no friends, and very little family, but anything had to be better than this, right?
Her mother had told her once, in a rare sober moment, that she had a brother she hadn’t seen in nearly 20 years. Neither he nor their parents had agreed with her life-choices, and she had run away with her boyfriend in a fit of pique. By the time she realised she’d made a mistake her pride wouldn’t let her go back.
This mystery uncle was Faith’s plan. Find him, and see if she could trust him to help her. If he hadn’t liked her mother’s alcohol and men he couldn’t be all bad, could he? She had a name, and she knew he was in the Air Force – she was family so they might be willing to help her find him, right?
She knew where her mother kept the money – she had after all kept herself fed with the small amounts she managed to sneak from it before her mother bought her alcohol for the last few years. Counting what was in the jar, she decided to take half of it – that should last her a few days if she was very careful, and should give her enough for the phone calls she was planning to make.
Faith sat at the pay-phones in the library, fingers clutching nervously at the small piece of paper she’d copied the phone number onto. Hesitantly she reached for the receiver, dropped her money in, and dialled. At the first ring Faith almost hung up, by the fifth she was scowling in annoyance – what, they couldn’t spare five minutes to answer the damn phone? Just as she was about to give up a click sounded and a cheery voice drifted over the line.
“United States Air Force, how may I direct your call?”
“Um, yeah, I’m trying to, uh, that is...” Faith stuttered, unsure of how to start. “Aw hell, I need to get ahold’a my uncle and my mother said once that he was Air Force, so can ya help me or not? Don’t meanta sound rude lady, it’s just real important, ya know?” She could hear the quiver in her voice, and she was sure the woman heard it too.
“Of course Miss, if you could just give me your uncle’s name, and any other information you have...?”
“Name’s Jack O’Neill, he’s a colonel I think, that’s all I know...is it enough?”
“If you’ll just hold on for a moment, I’ll see what I can find. Just to let you know, I will require some personal details from you before I can give out any information, for our records.”
“Like my name and shi...stuff?” That made sense, Faith guessed. Couldn’t just go giving info out willy-nilly without at least keeping track of who it went to after all.
“Yes Miss. I’ve located the information you’re looking for, so if I can just take your name, date of birth and current address please?”
Faith quickly reeled off the requested information, impatient to hear about her uncle.
“Thank you. I have a phone number and address for your uncle, do you have something handy to write it down with?”
“Sure,” Faith quickly grabbed up the pen and pad she’d been using earlier, “Shoot.”
“Colonel Jack O’Neill; 126 East Fountain Boulevard, Colorado Springs, Colorado; 719-555-3564. Is there anything else I can help you with Miss?”
“Nah, that’s all I needed, cheers for the help though – I really ‘preciate it!” Hanging up quickly Faith looked down at the paper in front of her. Should she ring? What would she say? Maybe it would be easier in person, but then what if she turned up on his doorstep and he didn’t want to know? After all, her mother had cut him off for the last 20 years, that’s got to leave some kind of resentment, right?
“Right, bus station first to see if I even got enough cash to get there, then I’ll decide if I got a choice...” Faith muttered as she slung her bag over her shoulder and left, notepad clutched tightly in her hand.
Author's Note: so, there's chapter 1 of my very first fic...please review :-)