When the memories came, they tore at her stomach with icy fingers and hijacked her mind. It didn’t matter if she was hunched over a keyboard, or in a green room preparing for a T.V. appearance. The terror would suck her into the seedy, addiction fueled violence that was her youth. A time when her mother lived in the bottom of a bottle and her father, who refused to admit he was part of the problem, expected her to care for the house, and her mother. If she failed to meet his standards, she was rewarded with cigarette burns and beatings. She was ten when one of his lessons left her bleeding, with loose teeth and a broken rib on the bathroom floor.
Huddled on the bed, she waited for him to pass out before slipping out the window. Wracked with pain, she made her way to the local hospital, after that, things got blurry. Confusion reigned as they tried to find her parents and more importantly, who would pay the bill. Eventually they called in a social worker, who, after one look at the battered girl, set the wheels in motion to secure a better life for her.
Reluctant at first, and afraid of her father’s reaction, she begged them to let her go home, but her mentor refused, eventually making her see that her parents needed help and that what was good for her, was not one of their priorities. After bouncing in and out of a few foster homes, she met her new parents and discovered a talent for writing that they encouraged. Over the years, her body had healed, but her mind wore band-aids, ready to fall off at any time.
Now, she was a successful author. Two of her books had been adapted for the big screen and she was working on a Broadway play. At the age of thirty-three she had met a man who just may be the one she would grow old with. She had money, a great house and a few friends she could count on. Life was good. Her mother had died years earlier, but her father had tried to make contact a few times, hoping to cash in on her fame and fortune, she ignored him.
Jumping as the intercom sprung to life, instructing her to head to the set, she thought about her organization and the kids and women it would help. Vowing to get as many of them out of violent situations as she could, she took a deep breath and headed to the stage to sell her latest book, the one with fifty percent of the proceeds going to the “Kids First” organization. She rose from the ashes, now it was time to help others fly!