HOPE
CHAPTER 1: THE UNWANTED CHILD
"Get out of my sight, you piece of trash!" Clarissa screamed.
Hope had only just opened the bedroom door. She stood there holding a small crayon drawing, her face lit up with a smile meant for her mother.
"I never want to see you here again!"
Chloe, her grandmother, rushed in at the sound.
"Clarissa, you have not stopped being cold to this child. You are scaring her. Can't you see?"
"I don't care," Clarissa snapped, her eyes red from alcohol. "She can die for all I care."
Hope didn't understand the words, but she understood the tone. Her smile faded. Her little hands began to tremble.
Chloe bent down and softened her voice. "Don't mind her, my love. Come, let me take you to your room and read you some books, okay?"
In her bedroom, Chloe opened a storybook. Hope sat on the floor, laughing quietly to herself, her eyes drifting from the window to the ceiling. She brought out a blue pen and began scribbling circles on paper. That was her world. Quiet, repetitive, innocent.
CHAPTER 2: A MOTHER'S HATE, A GRANDMOTHER'S LOVE
Hope was born autistic.
Clarissa had been raped one night on her way home from work. It was dark, raining, and no one came to help. Weeks later, she discovered she was pregnant. She hated the child growing inside her. She tried to abort it, but her mother Chloe refused to let her. Chloe insisted the innocent child must live.
From the day Hope was born, Clarissa never bonded with her.
Clarissa's life changed completely. She stopped going to work. She started drinking in the morning and smoking late at night. She became an alcoholic who never bathed, fed, or held her own baby.
"Is that even a child?" she would sneer.
But Chloe became both mother and grandmother. She woke up at night to feed Hope with a bottle. She bought her clothes, toys, crayons and picture books. She knew Hope was autistic, but she never saw her as a burden. She clapped for her when she drew a line and loved her unconditionally.
Still, Hope wanted her mother. Like any child, she craved her mother's touch. Whenever she waddled over with a teddy bear hoping to play, Clarissa pushed her away.
"Get lost!" she would scream, sometimes shoving her so hard that Hope fell. Hope would cry in a high-pitched, broken whimper that made Chloe's heart ache. And Chloe would always run to carry her.
"Clarissa, this is your daughter. Learn to love her. Stop this drinking," Chloe pleaded many times. But Clarissa never listened. The sight of Hope reminded her of that terrible night.
When friends visited and saw Hope playing outside alone, humming and flapping her hands, they would ask, "Who is that little girl?"
"Oh, she is my niece's daughter," Clarissa lied with a smile. She never admitted Hope was hers. She never took her out. She denied her completely.
CHAPTER 3: THE BIRTHDAY PARTY
Then came the day of the birthday party.
Clarissa had invited all her friends. Music was loud, drinks were everywhere, and laughter filled the living room. Hearing the music, Hope wandered out innocently. She saw her mother in the middle of it all and her face lit up.
"Mummy, mummy, mummy..." she said with a wide smile as she ran to her.
The room fell silent.
Clarissa's face hardened. She grabbed Hope by the arm and pushed her away harshly. "Get away from me! I told you to stay in your room!"
Hope stumbled and hit a side table. Several glass cups crashed and shattered. Guests screamed.
"Who is this child? Why are you pushing her like that?" one friend asked.
Embarrassed and angry, Clarissa dragged Hope to the door and shoved her outside. "Get out!"
Hurt and overwhelmed, Hope ran past the compound and into the busy street.
Chloe panicked. "Hope! Hope! Clarissa, where is your daughter?"
"I don't fucking care!" Clarissa shouted.
"Tell them the truth for once, Clarissa! She is your daughter! She is your own blood!" Chloe yelled, in tears.
The room went silent.
"You mean that little girl is your daughter?" a friend gasped. "Why did you never tell us? You said she was your niece's child!"
Clarissa was furious at being exposed. "I have no time for this nonsense. The party is over!" she said, dropping her glass and storming into her bedroom, slamming the door.
Chloe searched the streets calling Hope's name, but Hope was already far away.
CHAPTER 4: LOST
Hope found herself in a noisy motor park. She sat alone on a bench. When she saw passengers boarding a bus, she followed them, walking unsteadily with unfocused eyes. People stared.
"That child is behaving strange," someone whispered.
The bus drove for nearly an hour to another town. Everyone got down except Hope.
"Who is this girl and why is she not coming down?" the driver shouted.
The conductor approached her. "Small girl, oya come down. This is the last stop."
Hope just smiled softly.
The driver pulled her out angrily. "I think this one is not well. Timothy, why did you allow her to enter?"
"Sir, I didn't know. I'm sorry."
"Next time you allow this kind of passenger, you are fired!"
Night had fallen. Hope walked away slowly in her own peculiar rhythm. Traders under the streetlights stared. Tired and cold, she found a wooden bench in front of a closed shop, curled up, and fell asleep under the open sky.
CHAPTER 5: THE ACCIDENT
Early the next morning, the shop owner found her sleeping there.
"Hey! Get out of my shop now!" he tapped her roughly.
Hope rubbed her eyes, disoriented, making only soft sounds.
"What kind of trouble is this early this morning? Get out of here!" He pushed her away.
Confused and hungry, Hope wandered aimlessly. People stared. "Who is that girl? She looks like a special needs child. Poor thing."
Her stomach growled. She saw a woman selling bread on a tray. She walked up quietly, picked up a loaf, tore it open, and began to eat hungrily.
When the seller turned and saw her, she screamed, "Thief! Thief! How dare you steal my bread? I will beat you today!" She grabbed a stick.
Terrified, Hope dropped the bread and ran. The woman chased her, shouting.
In her panic, Hope didn't look. She ran straight into the middle of the busy road.
A car was coming at full speed.
There was a loud screech of brakes. A heavy thud. Hope's small body was thrown to the ground.
People screamed.
The driver, a young man in his thirties, jumped out in shock. He saw the little girl lying motionless, blood on her forehead, bread still clutched in her tiny hand.
"Oh my God! Someone help!" he shouted. He picked her up gently, placed her in his back seat, and sped off to the nearest hospital.
In her pocket was still folded the little crayon drawing she had made for her mother.
*TO BE CONTINUED...*
