Emancipation

Book 1 Story 11 – More pieces of the puzzle that is Dana. 

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9 years ago 

Adults knew how to fix things, like leaking roofs. Dana had been a 16-year-old adult for 3 days now, but nothing was coming to her. She didn’t have a ladder. Her bed wasn’t nearly high enough to stand on and reach the hole, even if she could move it into place herself. She rubbed her swollen ankle at a loss. It wasn’t getting any better. She’d fallen trying to climb onto the roof and twisted it. She was usually really good at climbing things, but it was wet, and dark. Dana watched another drop fall from the ceiling to join the rest on the floor. Maybe the rain would stop soon, and she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Adults didn’t worry about such things. The water wasn’t hurting anything. It was just pooling there. 

She had to work tomorrow. Adults worked. It was the only thing about being an adult that she liked so far. It was a good job. She worked at the coroner’s office in the morgue, where she happily processed dead bodies. The work wasn’t as exciting as she thought it would be, but there was plenty to learn. Interesting things. Like what a clogged artery looked like, or what happens to your insides when you drink bleach. She wasn’t supposed to peek, but she couldn’t help it. The lead pathologist, Professor Dockett, wasn’t mad though, not like some of the other people who worked there. He gave her textbooks to look at with bookmarks in them. Dana didn’t understand most of it, but she wanted to, and was trying.

She needed to sleep but the sound of the rain was no more comforting than the sound of silence. Something this big empty house had in spades. Her house, however improbable that sounded. Dana had to have a place to live and a job to be an adult. Officer Daniels had explained it all to her, but there was a lot she didn’t understand. She’d never heard of emancipation. All she knew is that she didn’t ever have to go back to her terrible aunt. She couldn’t hurt her any more. Or keep the money that was supposed to be hers. Money that bought her everything she had now, including the house.       

A sudden flash and the deafening crack of thunder startled her, sending her scurrying back what few inches she could to the furthest corner of her little cave. She’d always liked being alone, until now. The smallest of movements echoed against the cold, unsympathetic walls. When she didn’t move there was a terrible silence. Even the chatter in her head and the rich images they evoked had left her, replaced by nervous attentiveness and fear. 

She’d always longed for the comforting feel of walls closing in, so she created it. There was a chair to her right, the bed to her left with the only blanket she had stretched over the top. It left far too many holes though, so she stuffed what little she could in the gaps. Cushions from the couch, a few items of clothing. It felt better to know exactly what was laying around her. To be surrounded on all sides by her own warmth, in a place she could control.

Her only companion was a small, brightly wrapped box. A birthday gift she refused to open yet. Officer Daniels had dropped it off earlier. She was excited to see him, no one else ever came to the house. She wanted to invite him in, but he had to go. His duties as an adult demanded it. Besides, while he was glad he could help her, he wasn’t really her friend. Not the kind that came over for dinner or went to see a movie with you, that is. He’d congratulated her again on her new freedom and said how proud he was of how far she’d come. Then he left.

Dana had to let him go without pleading or begging him to stay. Adults didn’t cling. Once they got a job, a place to stay and were financially independent, they didn’t need their hands held. They were responsible people now.

She placed a finger on the little box, sliding it one way and then the other. It was still a few hours until she turned seventeen. 1:21 am to be precise. He said it didn’t matter, that she could open it right then, but it wasn’t right. She had to at least wait until the right day.

She picked it up to feel the minimal weight of it, examining the glossy paper it was wrapped in. There were no colorful balloons, no dancing words in all capitals saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! There were no cute little animals, no cartoon renditions of cake or of sweets. It was sensible paper in metallic red, with a sensible white bow on top, more fitting of her new adult status.

Maybe there was some cream inside to soothe her aching ankle. When she scrambled backwards to get away from the thunder, she’d twisted it anew without thinking. She was determined to ignore it though, no matter how much it hurt. It reminded her too much of the things her aunt had done to her. That was supposed to be in her past now, like the parents who didn’t like her. Then they died. She didn’t have to think about them anymore either.

She’d had nowhere to go after the small plane crash that killed them. Just to the relative who’d liked her less. Her aunt did like the millions of dollars Dana had inherited though, and the lucrative vineyard. She couldn’t get her greedy mitts on all of it all at once, but she had figured out some complicated way of taking some at a time. It rightfully belonged to the girl, but not until she was eighteen. Dana didn’t understand any of it, much less know what to do about fighting for it. All she knew was loneliness, coupled with constant fear. Her aunt had made sure of that. She didn’t want Dana to attract the wrong type of people. The suspicious, the well-meaning or the saviors. She had been kept out of school and kept quiet.

She wished she’d been better at telling people what was going on. Better at expressing herself and her needs. It always came out all wrong, which only made things worse. When no one would listen, Dana had tried to take care of her aunt on her own. She grabbed a knife and tried to stab her, but the woman was bigger and stronger and just laughed. The police came and were told that Dana was crazy, that she needed locking up, and they were going to do it. Dana fled. She ran and kept running until she couldn’t anymore. She built herself a little place in the woods out of branches and leaves and tried to make it on her own, scavenging for scraps when no one was looking. It was all right for a week or so, but she needed more than half eaten meals. Her feet were bare and covered in sores. Her new home couldn’t keep out the cold, or the rain. So, Dana made her way to a homeless camp she’d spotted to sell the only thing she had, her innocence. That’s when Daniels first saw her, flying out of a tent, beating on some greasy haired weasel. He’d promised her three hundred dollars for the virginity he took, then left her with nothing. 

Daniels was the first person that had believed in her. He helped her start a better life, got her cleaned up and fed, even found her a place to stay for the first few nights. He introduced her to Professor Dockett who gave her a job. He’d even found people that could help her get her money and the house she was in. He said that she was strong and could take care of herself. That meant she could officially be an adult, more than a year early.

Dana wasn’t entirely sure about that. She’d always taken care of herself when no one else would. Nothing about that was new. Being an adult didn’t seem much different than what she was before, except that it mostly seemed to come with higher expectations. She couldn’t just run off and explore anymore. She was expected to get on a bus and go to work. She had to buy food and learn how to cook it, pay bills and figure out how she would manage her massive inheritance. If that wasn’t enough, she’d also have to sort out what was to be done with the vineyard. She wished she could just pay someone to make it go away. What did she know about selling property? 

Dana rested her chin on her knees, hugging them closer to her frail body. She’d been undernourished for years but was getting better. Her shoulders didn’t jut out the way they used to, and she couldn’t see her ribs anymore. Her eyes didn’t look so sunken, and her short choppy hair didn’t look so lifeless. She put some red dye in it the other day so she’d look more alive. It made such a difference. Her cheeks looked rosier now, her eyes so much brighter. It was the first time Dana really liked how she looked. 

There hadn’t been a single day in months she hadn’t eaten. Not a night that she’d lay, begging her empty stomach to let her sleep. Her aunt hadn’t starved her, but she hadn’t given her much either. It had always been a choice to refuse it, which Dana often had. She didn’t trust her. Not since she figured out that her meals had been laced with drugs to make her lethargic.

Anyway, Dana didn’t want to think about any of that now. She wanted to know what was in the box. Would it really be so bad to open it now? It was only a few hours early. It was probably something good, something to make her happy. She needed that. Being an adult was hard. Dana peered out of her little shelter. There was no one here to tell her that opening it a bit early was wrong. Not unless they were hiding in the shadows. They could be, the place was pretty big, but she doubted it. She made an enthused little utterance, expelling a burst of air with a little, “hoo!” She couldn’t open the gift, but she could open the card! Dana didn’t think there was a rule about that. 

With a little grunt of delight, she picked the box up, carefully separating the red envelope from the rest. It was sealed but wasn’t hard to open, though she did rip it a touch. It couldn’t be helped, she was so excited.

She pulled out the pretty card with ‘Happy birthday!’ written on the front in cursive. There were leaves and red lilies next to the words. She opened it up to find what looked more like a letter than a quick well wishing. It read,

You are tough. You are resilient, resourceful and intelligent. Never forget that. You’ve made it this far and will go so much further. 

Keep smiling. Your unstoppable enthusiasm is your greatest strength and will always keep the darkness away.

All the best,

Roger Daniels

Dana read it three times, once out loud, marveling at the words. She never thought of herself as strong or resilient, she’d just done what she always had. Stayed in the world of her own creation. The one in her head. She liked it there. Other people weren’t invited, nor could they get in, even if they tried.

Reading it once more, Dana wondered what he meant by her enthusiasm keeping the darkness away. She didn’t feel very happy, and the darkness all around her was really menacing. 

What if there was something in that box that could keep it away? 

She should have been reserved about opening it, like a proper adult, but she’d had enough of that. Even Daniels said that her enthusiasm was a strength. She tore off the wrapping in a frenzy, using her teeth at one point to rid it of some stubborn tape. When the paper was in shreds and scattered on the floor, she lifted the box’s lid – the final obstacle to her prize, then furrowed her brow in confusion. 

It was a toy. A strange, plastic bird with paper thin wings in rainbow colors. She lifted it from the box, turning it over in her hands. It weighed next to nothing and was about the same shape and size as a starling, with pretty realistic details, like little blue eyes and a yellow beak. The wings had feathers printed on them which moved up and down like real ones. Rubber bands connected some internal mechanisms, ending with a little crank under the tail. She poked a finger against the handle with curiosity. 

Looking to the box for an explanation, its only accompaniment was a thin book entitled, ‘How Birds Fly’. She picked it up to leaf through a few pages. It had a lot of pictures inside. Anatomical drawings, diagrams with formulas. It looked interesting. A bit like the textbooks Professor Dockett gave her, but with fewer words, and it wasn’t in color.

Dana put it down to further examine the plastic figure. The rubber bands inside were loose right now but could be tightened by rotating the crank. She began twisting it and kept going until it couldn’t move. She then held the bird before her, waiting for the magic, but nothing was happening. Looking at it again, she found a small lever by the wing and pressed it in, crying out with a loud “HO!!” when it shot forward, frantically flapping across the room.

Her eyes grew as wide as they could go, her great toothy smile banishing every shadow in the room. She lunged forward, out of her sanctuary, hands firmly planted before her with a radiant explosion of joy. Wonderful noises burst forth from her throat, the ones she usually kept buried inside nowadays. They weren’t very adult like, but she didn’t have to be one right now. 

The bird soon fell, unable to find the freedom it needed but Dana wasn’t discouraged. She could make it fly again. It just needed room. Like her. She gathered it up and began coiling it anew, running for the door. Hopefully it wasn’t raining too hard.