My bags begin to slip from my perspiring hands. I cling onto their handles as tightly as I would onto the edge of a cliff. These two women have taken me into their expansive home for a temporary stay. I revel in its beauty. No cigar smell, or any pungent scents reaching my nostrils. The low ceiling lights shine yellow like a yolk, not one dimming bulb. The clean walls around me provide as the white egg shells.

“Make yourself at home, Lilly.” The woman on my right, Carrie, kneels down. Her eyes are like honey, the warmth of their gaze too good to be true. They drop to the slashes on my wrists, to the bruises on my forearms, and finally over my shoulder. Her hand forks through her frizzy blonde hair, her long, manicured nails like claws. The woman on my left, Amy, placed her hand against my back and led me upstairs. The familiar, uneven surface of scar tissue rubbing gently against me. My body tenses.

“I have a surprise for you, Miss Lilly.”

A stuffed teddy bear is held out to me like an offering. It’s missing left eye is replaced with a deep blue button. Tentatively, I reach for the stuffed toy, as if anticipating the revealing of its pointed teeth.

“I got it from a toy store a long time ago. Fixed it myself too,” Amy said proudly. “A simple needle and thread can go a long way.”

I place my bags down and wrap my hand around its tiny, soft body. It felt unnaturally new, like the many unfitting clothes I’ve worn on my back. My pointer finger and thumb grab onto its stuffed arm, dangling it like a pendulum before my interested eyes.

“You like it?”

I press it against my chest and hold it like a baby. “Yes. Thank you…” The words come out slow, almost fearfully.

“Your welcome!”

I choke back a sigh of relief. This mask of kindness may only last a few hours, possibly a day, but it’s appreciated nevertheless. It’s been years since my presence didn’t bribf disappointment or anger to the people who chose to take me in, so I relish in this gratitude like a child plant absorbing the last rays if sunlight. Meanwhile, my eyes move to the scar on Amy’s hand.

“Oh this?” She held it flat in front of her. “I burnt myself on accident while cooking. We’re kind of matching, aren’t we?”

I nod, enthralled with the size of it. It was a large splotch directly in the center, blanketed with scabbed flesh during the slow years of healing.

She closes her fingers around the darkened flesh of the wound.

“If you need anything, just holler. We’ll be in the kitchen.” She patted my cheek and left.

My room fascinated me more than the grand enterance. The bed is a grand centerpiece, large and soft like the clouds angels would rest on. It’s soft covers were patterned with tiny white flowers, like bits of snow. A nightstand lay next to it. I listen for the chatter of rats. Nothing but the faint conferring of Carrie and Amy.

“Oh, poor thing. What have they done to her?”

“She’ll be okay. We know we can keep her safe.”

I unpack my bags, laying the clothes carefully in neat piles on the floor. My new teddy bear is piled amongst the pillows. I will now be referring to him as Terry.

This new world I live in is enthralling, but unreal. An invisible veil of sympathy seems to blanket the house. The furniture it swallows possesses an artificial luxury, like living in a dollhouse.

The thought of being a toy, a possession, leads my hand to seek Terry. I press him to my chest.

He smells like lillies.

Tears fall down my cheeks, and for the first time, it’s painless.