Page 3 of Prospect
Sofia
Stretching, I roll onto my back. The warm glow of the sunrise is just beginning to peek through the sheer yellow curtains in my bedroom. I lay there snuggled amongst the softness of my white down comforter and listen to the soft whirring sound of the oscillating fan and watch my room come alive with a prism of colors dancing across my pale grey walls from the firefly sun-catcher hanging in front of the window. Closing my eyes, I take in a deep cleansing breath. I try to always begin my day with gratitude; thankful for another day of a life I fought so hard to stay alive for.
Slipping from beneath the comforter, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, curling my toes into the soft shag carpet beneath my feet as I stand. Before anything else, I spin around and begin making my bed. When I've fluffed the last pillow and flawlessly place it on the bed, I slip on my house slippers and shuffle toward the door unlocking it. I know I'm safe but locking even my bedroom door gives me an added sense of security.
Leaving the door open, I walk down the hallway. After making a quick stop by the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth and take care of other business, I continue my way toward the kitchen. I have been living at New Hope House for a few months now. I've accomplished a lot in the time I have been living in Polson by graduating high school and slowly reaching milestones with my therapy. Which is why Dr. Kendrick, my therapist suggested I take a significant step on my way to independence. I already spend so much of my time here anyway, so along with the support of my friends and family, I moved out of Logan and Bella's home, and into New Hope House.
As scary as it was in the beginning, it was the small nudge I needed toward so many more future goals. Another plus to living here is seeing Dr. Kendrick on a daily basis. Not that I always need to talk with her, but it is good to know I can walk right down the hallway, across the living room and straight into her office.
Also, I've recently applied for online courses to become a counselor myself. I know it will take time and hard work, but I'm willing to do it. Helping others and giving back to the community that has helped me is what I want to do with my life. I've watched how The Kings and the staff at New Hope House changed lives in this small town and I want to be a part of it.
Busying myself with what has become my morning routine, I start making coffee and go through the refrigerator and pantry taking stock of things we will need to pick up from the grocery store later today, before I go into work. I have a part time job at The Pier, which is a small family owned restaurant on Polson Bay. I work there four days a week and I love it. It's usually always busy but when the summer months hit, they stay packed. The best part of the job is the view. Open skies and open water. The sun and the fresh Montana air. There is nothing better. Sometimes, after my shift is over, I sit out at the end of the dock and watch the sun kiss the surface of the water and wait for the fireflies to come out.
Filling the tea kettle with water, I set it on the stovetop and light the fire beneath it. While most of the people in my life are coffee drinkers, I prefer a warm cup of chai tea sweetened with honey in the mornings. As I am searching for my favorite mug inside the dishwasher, I hear the unmistakable rumble of Sam's motorcycle pulling into the driveway. Kings Construction is adding a new addition to the house, and Sam happens to be heading up the job and was even given his own crew. Peeking out the window above the sink, I watch as he rounds the corner of the deck in the backyard. It's odd, the feelings I've developed for him. I'm not used to them. Not that I don't know what they are; trust me I do. But to be honest, I never thought I would want to feel this way for a man. Sam makes me feel safe and comfortable in my own skin. He doesn't look at me like I'm damaged goods.
Sam is also a handsome guy. Tall, dark hair, chiseled chin, an athletic build, and he has blue eyes the color of sapphires. Keeping my eyes on him, I watch as he places a small white paper bag on the back deck railing. The corner of his lip lifts in a subdued smile as he does so. I hold my breath; thinking this time he has spotted me in the window, but he continues walking toward the build site on the other end of the house allowing me to breathe again. Wearing a smile on my face, and feeling butterflies in my stomach, I walk over to the French doors near the kitchen table which lead out to the deck. Unlocking the deadbolt, I step out into the fresh morning air, pausing a moment as the warmth from the sun touches my skin. Knowing Sam is watching me, I cross the deck, past the patio chairs, stopping at the railing. Picking the white bag up, I open it and peer inside. The smell from the warm chocolate croissants instantly cause my mouth to water. These croissants have become my favorite guilty pleasure from Grace's bakery, The Cookie Jar since coming to live in Polson. And every morning since Sam started construction on the house, he has brought me my favorite treat.
Turning, with my breakfast clutched in my hand, tucked close to my chest, I lift my head in Sam's direction briefly making eye contact with him. It's moments like this I feel a little awkward, shy, and unsure of myself. Giving him a small smile, I walk back inside, locking the door behind me.
The tea kettle whistles. Sitting the bag on the table, I walk across the kitchen and turn the burner off. Pouring the hot water into my mug, I carry my steaming cup of tea to the table. With the sounds of Sam's work crew arriving and their workday getting underway, I sip my drink then retrieve a pastry from the bag.
"Good morning, Sofia," Emma, a woman living here at New Hope softly says as she enters the kitchen. Reaching into the cabinet above the coffee maker, she grabs a mug pouring herself some coffee before joining me at the kitchen table.
"How are you feeling this morning?" I ask knowing she has an interview later today here in town at the local library.
"Nervous." Her hands grip tightly around the cup as she brings the rim to her lips taking a small sip.
"You have nothing to worry about," I assure her.
"Finally doing something for myself without the fear of always having to look over my shoulder is an entirely new concept for me to get used to," she confesses.
Emma suffered several years of abuse at the hands of her now ex-husband. The last beating she endured landed her in the hospital, with severe injuries, which took her weeks to heal from. Now, with him finally behind bars and the help and support of the foundation, she is starting her life over.
Finished with my breakfast, I stand, throwing my trash into the garbage bin. "I want to hear all about your new job later today," I smile warmly in Emma's direction.
She laughs. "The job isn't mine yet."
"I have faith in you. You are perfect for the library assistant job, and I have no worries that you'll be hired on the spot."
"Your confidence means a lot, Sofia. Thank you," Emma gives me a small smile.
Taking my tea with me, I make my way back to my room. After changing out of my sleep shorts and oversized shirt, I slip on a lilac-colored, boho style summer dress and pair it with nude colored strappy sandals. Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I brush my long hair before securing it into a low ponytail. Not one to wear a lot of makeup, I apply moisturizer, brush a light coat of mascara on my lashes and swipe a light tinted gloss across my top and bottom lips.
Satisfied, I open my door and walk across the hall to the empty room. A new resident is scheduled to arrive late this afternoon, so I need to prepare her room by putting linens on the bed. Walking to the closet, I dig out the new unopened bed sheets along with a quilt Mila left that once belonged to her grandmother; the one this very foundation was named after. Getting to work, I pull the sheets from their packaging. Whipping the fitted sheet in the air unraveling it, I spread it across the full-sized mattress pulling the corners taught before moving on to the top sheet and finally the quilt.
Luna is the name of the young woman Dr. Kendrick will be bringing in today. I haven't been told much about her. Only that she is not from Polson, she's deaf, and she is in hiding from her ex boyfriend, who is currently sitting in jail and Luna is the only witness to the crime that landed him there. Luna didn't feel safe staying where she lived because of the connections her ex has. One of the detectives on her ex's case is an old friend of Dr. Kendricks. She is the one that suggested New Hope House. I'm reassured by The King's presence here in town and the top-notch security we have here at the house that this is a safe place for her.
My mind starts to wonder back in time to my own life and the fear I lived in for two years. Without warning unwanted memories from my past hit me like a tidal wave.
Slowly sinking to the bed, I struggle to gain control of the flashbacks that sometimes still plague me. Anxiety and panic can hit without warning; sending me into the state I'm in now. Closing my eyes, I take long breaths through my nose and release an even longer lung full of air out my mouth. I do this several times trying to slow the rapid beating in my chest. Trying to center myself is the hardest part of getting through a panic attack. With so many thoughts and emotions hitting me at once it is always a struggle to remain focused on one thought that doesn't sound negative. Bring in the fact I usually freak out by the way my body physically reacts I sometimes quickly start thinking something else is wrong with me as well, and that creates a continuous loop making it harder to break free from the crippling hold my anxiety and mind has on me. These vulnerable moments are flaws of mine that have become hard to except. And that I will probably live with it for the rest of my life. PTSD that is related to my childhood and my time with Los Demonios.
Los Demonios. The name of my demons who haunt me. They are the ones who even now in their deaths still control part of my life. They stole me from my family, from the only life I knew. Taking me was payment for what my father did. My life was never perfect. My family was poor, and I recognized the daily struggle my parents went through from an early age to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. Los Demonios ran things in the town in which my family lived in Mexico. They were feared and ruthless in the way they ran things. What my mother didn't know was my father had gone to them out of desperation one day begging for a job. So, they gave him one. I'm still not sure to this day what it was he was doing for them, but I know it was not good. Nothing good came from being associated with Los Demonios.
One night, just after my fourteenth birthday, I was awakened by my father and mother and not allowed to ask why we left our home under the dark of night. It was when we had made our way to the border did I realize what we were about to do. Not everyone crosses the border undetected, but we were lucky. Without hesitation we left behind our homeland and I never asked why.
Almost a year later after seeking asylum, which was still pending at the time, things were going okay. My father was working for a small landscape company, and my mother had found work at a restaurant waiting tables. As for me, my parents had enrolled me in school. We lived with another family and my life even though we didn't have much was better than it ever was in Mexico.
Little did I know what my father had done—until the day faces of men I thought we had left behind showed up one evening as we were sitting down for dinner.
