Cutler 01 - Dawn

closer to me, my grandmother appeared in the doorway. I jumped when she spoke.
    "If I were you, Eugenia, I would get a good night's rest," she said, her eyes moving from me to the pictures. "You have to get yourself into the daily schedule."
    I put the picture back quickly.
    "I told you," I said defiantly, "my name is Dawn." I didn't wait for her response. I hurried away and to my little room, shutting the door after I entered. I stood there listening to see if she had followed me, but I heard no footsteps. Then I let out the breath I was holding and turned to my little suitcase.
    I took out the picture of Momma as a young girl and placed it on the little table. As I looked at her, I recalled her final words to me.
    "You must never think badly of us. We love you. Always remember that."
    "Oh, Momma!" I cried. "Look what has happened to us! Why did you and Daddy do this?"
    I reached into the drawer where I had hidden the pearls and removed them. Holding them made me feel closer to Momma, but I couldn't wear them. I just couldn't. Not here. Not in this horrible place that was my new home. The pearls had been meant to be worn on happy occasions, and my current situation certainly didn't qualify. I looked at the pearls one last time and then hid them away again. No one at Cutler's Cove would know about their existence. The pearls were my last link to my family. They were the only thing that gave me some feeling of comfort, and they would be my secret. If I ever felt lonely or needed to remember happier times, I'd just take them out of their drawer and hold them. Maybe one day I'd wear them again.
    Finally, exhausted from what had to be one of the worst days of my life, I put away the rest of my things and dressed for bed. I crawled under the cover that smelled clean, but felt rough, and the pillow was too soft. I hated this room more than any of the awful apartments we had lived in.
    I stared up at the cracked white ceiling. The cracks zigzagged across, looking like threads pasted up there. Then I turned over and switched off the light. With the night sky now overcast and no lights outside my window, it was pitch dark in my room. Even after my eyes grew used to it, I could barely make out the dresser and the window.
    It was always hard to get used to a new place when we were traveling and moving from one town to another. First nights were scary, only then Jimmy and I had each other to comfort each other. Now, alone, couldn't help but listen to every creak in the antique wing of the old hotel and shudder. I had to get used to every sound until nothing surprised me.
    Suddenly, though, I thought I heard someone crying. It was muffled, but it was clearly the sound of a woman crying. I listened hard and heard my grandmother's voice, too, although I couldn't make out any words. The crying stopped as suddenly as it had started.
    Then the silence and the darkness became heavy and ominous. I strained to hear the sounds of the hotel, just so I would have the comfort that came from hearing other people's voices. I could hear them, but they seemed so distant, like voices on a radio far, far away, and they didn't make me feel any safer or any more comfortable. But after a while my exhaustion overcame my fear, and I fell asleep.
    I had arrived at what was my real home, only I didn't feel any sense of belonging. How long, I wondered, would I be a stranger in my own house and to my own family?
     
    My eyes snapped open when I heard someone at the door. For a moment I forgot where I was and what had happened. I expected to hear Fern cry out and see her bounce up and down impatiently in her crib. But instead, when I sat up, I confronted my grandmother. Her hair was brushed back as perfectly as it had been when I had first met her, and she was wearing a dark gray cotton skirt with a matching blouse and jacket. Pearl earrings dangled from her lobes, and she wore the same rings and watch. She smirked with disapproval.
    "What is it?" I asked. The look on her face and the way she had burst in my room jumped my heart right up against my throat.
    "I had a suspicion you were still in bed. Didn't I make clear what time you were to get up and dressed?" she asked sharply.
    "I was very tired, but I didn't fall right asleep because I heard someone crying," I told her. She drew her shoulders up and made her eyes small.
    "Nonsense. No one was crying. You were probably already asleep and dreaming."
    "It wasn't a dream. I heard someone crying," I