“Remember the lady uncle Neo told you about?” Cassius asks. She nods.
My smile turns brighter. “How come you're so upset, Sweetie?”
“I don't wanna go home with mommy,” she says, and her voice wobbles like she's about to cry again.
“That's okay, Sweetie; you don't have to go home,” I assure her. Her face brightens up.
“Queenie, her mom is on the way to pick her up; she has to go,” Cass protests, and I give him a death glare.
“She is not going anywhere; do you understand me?” My tone is deadly and comes with a warning not to fuck with me. He purses his lips but says nothing.
“How about you show me to your room, and we can play a little bit before bed?” My smile is genuine again.
“Okay,” she says softly, her crying has all but stopped, and she looks much happier.
Ignoring the annoyed men behind me, I hold out my hand for Rosie. She wiggles in her father’s hold until he lets her down.
Her tiny little hand takes a hold of mine, and she starts to lead me in the direction of her bedroom. She brings me to the door with a sign that says,Princess Rosie's Room. I smile as she pushes the door open. I giggle as I take in her overly pink room. Every single item is pink or Trolls themed. This little one is spoiled for sure.
“I see you like Trolls?” I smile as I take a seat next to her on the floor where her dolls lay.
“Yup! Poppy is my favorite. She's so pretty and funny and sings really good,” Rosie beams.
We sit for a little while and play with her dolls. Yes, this big, bad bitch is making an inanimate object talk as if it was real. But I'm already batshit crazy, so is this really all that surprising?
“Rosie?” I ask, getting her attention as she puts her dollies away for bed. She's really smart for a four-year-old. She holds a conversation well and is very polite.
When she looks at me, I continue. “How come you didn't want to go home with your mommy?” I ask, voice coaxing.
Her face turns from happy to sad again, there’s even a little terror making its way into her expression. She says nothing as she stands there like she's waiting to get in trouble.
“It’s okay, Sweetie. You can tell me anything. I promise you won't get in trouble,” I assure her.
She looks at me for a few moments before answering. “I'm not allowed to tell,” she whispers, looking at the ground.
“I won't say anything if you do. I promise. Pinky swear,” I say, holding out my pinky for her to take. She looks at it, then brings her small one up.
“Promise?” she asks.
“With my whole heart,” I smile.
“Mommy is mean,” she says, taking a few steps closer until she's in front of me. I hold my arms out, and she takes a seat on my lap. I like that she feels comfortable enough with me to talk and to let me hold her when she clearly needs it.
“How come?” I ask softly, brushing her dirty blonde hair from her face.
“She yells a lot. She makes me cry. She tells me that if I'm not a good girl, I won't ever see my Daddy again.” She sounds like she's about to cry, so I shh her, soothing her.
“You will always get to see your daddy, okay? I'll make sure of it, no matter what she says.”
Rosie just smiles. “Sometimes mommy is nice after my other daddy comes into my room to play at night. She watches us play, and when we're done, mommy tells me I'm a good girl, and the next day we get ice cream.”
Her words make my heart stop, and my beast is scratching at the surface to be let out and murder everyone in its sight. I'm not stupid. I used to have the guards at my group home come into my room at night, and we would “play,” and by play, I mean, the evil pieces of shit would touch me where they were not fucking allowed! Among other things. Trying to keep my control, I ask, “When you and your other daddy...” I try not to vomit on my next words, “play, what kind of things do you do?”
“He gets me to lay down, and then he massages my body,” she shrugs.
“Like your legs and back?” I ask, so ready to break.
“Sometimes.”