CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
(part five)

Thursday morning — 8:30 A.M.
Rose Hospital

“Who are you?” Sandy asked the woman sitting next to her bed.

She’d returned from a CAT scan to find a woman in her room.

“My name is Anjelika Katherine,” the woman smiled. “I’ve had a number of surnames. My last one was Roper. You may call me Anjelika.”

“Jill’s mom? But…”

“I had my face rearranged so that I could hide for all those years,” Anjelika smiled. “I used to look very much like Jillian.”

“You have the same eyes,” Sandy said. “It’s weird to see Jill’s eyes on your face. Your face is beautiful…”

“Just different from Jillian’s,” Anjelika laughed.

“Why are you here?” Sandy asked.

“I understand that the role of mother is currently open in your life,” Anjelika said. “I thought I might apply.”

Sandy smiled.

“What?” Anjelika asked.

“You’re Jill’s mother all right,” Sandy said. “I don’t know that I need a mother.”

“More than ever before, Sandra, you need a mother,” Anjelika said. “People want to get a look at the girl who caused all this ruckus. Everyone wants a peek at the girl who was so horribly abused. It’s a sick fascination that sends the insects out to get photographs.”

“Oh,” Sandy said. “Wow.”

“Wow is right,” Anjelika said. “I have some experience with this kind of thing. I’m here to help. Jillian is setting up a place for you to stay.”

“I really want to go home,” Sandy said.

“You won’t be able to go home for a while,” Anjelika said. “I’m sorry. Your apartment already has press waiting for you. Even at your work… You’re hot news, international news.”

“How do you know all of this?” Sandy felt like she might vomit.

“My husband has connections with the international group that is pursuing this case,” Anjelika said. “They need your help and need you to be safe. I’d like you to be well, happy even, so I volunteered to come.”

“You don’t even know me!” Sandy’s face reflected her distaste for handouts.

“But I do,” Anjelika gave Sandy a sweet smile. “I’ve read Jillian’s journals for… sixteen years? You are important to Jillian. She wrote about you, your life, and everything that’s happened to you. I know all about it.”

“Oh,” Sandy blushed. “I guess you know I’m a whore too.”

“I know many things, Sandra. You are not a whore. As women, we do what we can to survive. You were forced to be a woman even as a child. That’s not a choice. That’s cruelty of the worst form.” Anjelika’s eyes reflected her kindness. “And that’s life. You are not the only child who has been in this situation. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of children are in your situation every day. You only know you.”

Sandy nodded.

“You’re smart, articulate and beautiful,” Anjelika said. “You have a chance to speak for all of these children, to be their voice.”

“I don’t know that I can do that.”

“Do you want to?” Anjelika asked.

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….