covered with meth sores, that her brain was in a constant fog …
A sane person wouldn’t have gone back to that dragon, but she’d never claimed to be sane. She’d sold her sanity years ago when she started down her mother’s path.
She sank down to her bed, unable to look at herself anymore. If her baby was safe, the beating would be worth it.
Her mother had gone ballistic when she realized the baby was gone. After she’d beaten Jordan, Jordan heard yelling in the living room, the man threatening her mother, and her mother begging for time to find the baby.
At first, Jordan had felt a feeble sense of satisfaction that she’d actually done one thing right for her child. But then her mother demanded that Jordan tell where the baby was, and since the beating hadn’t worked, she pulled out another weapon. A syringe full of meth that she would give her … if she would tell her where the baby was, then lie to the police.
Jordan had finally caved. When the police came, she told them Lance had kidnapped the baby right out of her arms.
She’d gotten her shot of meth as soon as the police left, but the high had been short and had done little to numb the pain and worry. What if they arrested Lance? What would they do with the baby? Maybe, with the police involved, she could get the baby into the hands of Loving Arms, the original adoption agency, and they could find her a home where sober people would love her and care for her. Maybe the baby would actually have a chance. Maybe the family cycle of drugs and violence would end with this baby.
But if her mother’s plan worked, the baby would be returned and given to those people who had come for it. She couldn’t let that happen.
Why had she left New Day? She should go back, but now there was so much pain. She needed a few more fixes to get through it. Meth was the only comfort she’d ever really known.
The dragon wasn’t just her tormenter. It was her savior. Her lover. It courted her with memories of glorious highs, and blocked out memories of shame and regret. It flashed hope and healing in her mind. Sometimes it took away the pain, and that was worth any price.
But even as she acknowledged that thought, enemy questions missiled through her. Did it block out memories of an abandoned baby? A friend accused of a horrible crime?
It wasn’t right. Lance had only come because he cared about her. This was how she repaid him?
And the baby—her sweet, nameless baby, with those big trusting eyes that looked right into Jordan, as if she knew her and didn’t even care that she was a worthless slave who couldn’t control herself.
That looked like grace—the grace they’d talked about in rehab, the grace she’d learned about in Bible studies there.
Grace. That was a perfect name for her. Little Grace, who’d done nothing to deserve the family she’d been born into.
Jordan’s mother banged on the door. “They caught your little boyfriend!” she yelled. “And they’re taking the baby to the hospital.”
Jordan went to the door and threw it open. “Was she okay?”
“They said she was convulsing and underweight.”
“I told you she needed to be in the hospital!”
But there was no point in yelling at her mother. It was Jordan’s fault the baby was in that condition. She’d been so high when she was in labor that she’d barely realized it when her water broke.
As she thought of the baby, her breasts began to hurt, and milk leaked through her shirt. The reminder of her failed motherhood made her long for another hit of meth.
But she had to clear her head and tell the people at the hospital what adoption agency she was using and that the baby needed a decent mother and father, not the ones her mother had chosen. The baby’s sickness would buy her some time.
“What about Lance?”
“He’s going to jail,” her mother said, laughing. “Picture that little dirt wad in a cell. Bet his prissy mother never expected that.”
Jordan slammed the door
A sane person wouldn’t have gone back to that dragon, but she’d never claimed to be sane. She’d sold her sanity years ago when she started down her mother’s path.
She sank down to her bed, unable to look at herself anymore. If her baby was safe, the beating would be worth it.
Her mother had gone ballistic when she realized the baby was gone. After she’d beaten Jordan, Jordan heard yelling in the living room, the man threatening her mother, and her mother begging for time to find the baby.
At first, Jordan had felt a feeble sense of satisfaction that she’d actually done one thing right for her child. But then her mother demanded that Jordan tell where the baby was, and since the beating hadn’t worked, she pulled out another weapon. A syringe full of meth that she would give her … if she would tell her where the baby was, then lie to the police.
Jordan had finally caved. When the police came, she told them Lance had kidnapped the baby right out of her arms.
She’d gotten her shot of meth as soon as the police left, but the high had been short and had done little to numb the pain and worry. What if they arrested Lance? What would they do with the baby? Maybe, with the police involved, she could get the baby into the hands of Loving Arms, the original adoption agency, and they could find her a home where sober people would love her and care for her. Maybe the baby would actually have a chance. Maybe the family cycle of drugs and violence would end with this baby.
But if her mother’s plan worked, the baby would be returned and given to those people who had come for it. She couldn’t let that happen.
Why had she left New Day? She should go back, but now there was so much pain. She needed a few more fixes to get through it. Meth was the only comfort she’d ever really known.
The dragon wasn’t just her tormenter. It was her savior. Her lover. It courted her with memories of glorious highs, and blocked out memories of shame and regret. It flashed hope and healing in her mind. Sometimes it took away the pain, and that was worth any price.
But even as she acknowledged that thought, enemy questions missiled through her. Did it block out memories of an abandoned baby? A friend accused of a horrible crime?
It wasn’t right. Lance had only come because he cared about her. This was how she repaid him?
And the baby—her sweet, nameless baby, with those big trusting eyes that looked right into Jordan, as if she knew her and didn’t even care that she was a worthless slave who couldn’t control herself.
That looked like grace—the grace they’d talked about in rehab, the grace she’d learned about in Bible studies there.
Grace. That was a perfect name for her. Little Grace, who’d done nothing to deserve the family she’d been born into.
Jordan’s mother banged on the door. “They caught your little boyfriend!” she yelled. “And they’re taking the baby to the hospital.”
Jordan went to the door and threw it open. “Was she okay?”
“They said she was convulsing and underweight.”
“I told you she needed to be in the hospital!”
But there was no point in yelling at her mother. It was Jordan’s fault the baby was in that condition. She’d been so high when she was in labor that she’d barely realized it when her water broke.
As she thought of the baby, her breasts began to hurt, and milk leaked through her shirt. The reminder of her failed motherhood made her long for another hit of meth.
But she had to clear her head and tell the people at the hospital what adoption agency she was using and that the baby needed a decent mother and father, not the ones her mother had chosen. The baby’s sickness would buy her some time.
“What about Lance?”
“He’s going to jail,” her mother said, laughing. “Picture that little dirt wad in a cell. Bet his prissy mother never expected that.”
Jordan slammed the door
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