The first flight landed in New York. The city was in a mess from the building explosion earlier that year. But it felt refreshing to standing in midst all the commotions. “Excuse me? Do you know how to get to terminal 10?” It was the first time anyone had directly talked to me. I started tearing up. Tears of joy ran down my face. Although the man walked away, I was certain that this was the start of my new life.

It didn’t take long for me to adjust to New York, but the money I brought was not enough to get me started on my new life. I searched day and nights for a job, but no one wanted to hire a 17-year-old with no resume or experience in working. It took me 2 weeks to find myself a place at the shittiest diner in town. They paid minimum wage with no overtime payment. It was tough trying to survive in the city without any spare money.

My place got levelled down every weekend. It went from a hotel to the streets in no time. Every night I had to fight old mans to keep my sleeping spot. When it rained everyone on the streets cuddled up together and fought the winds. We were like a family. At wars sometime but cared for each other. That’s where I met Michael. He also ran away from his home, from his abusive parents. He was such a sweetheart. He sang for me and helped me through the lowest point of my life. Or so I thought.

After we became together it was much easier for us. I got a raise from the diner and Mike got a second job. Although it took us over 3 months, we were able to move into a small unit. It only had one room and a bathroom the size of a cradle, but we were happy to have each other. I dreamt that these peaceful days could go on forever until our times ran out.

My diner closed at 7pm sharp on the clock, and Mike’s second job started at 7:30pm so we couldn’t spend much time together at our new home. I’d always have fallen asleep by the time Mike came back home, but one day I woke up during the night.

I was in pain but did not know why. My back ached as if someone had shot me, and my lower abdomen was on fire. I got out of the bed and saw that the sheets were drenched in red. I nearly fainted from the shock but got a hold of myself.

I cried and screamed in fear and pain until the old lady next door had to rush into my rescue. She collected my sweaty body off of the ground onto our couch. Then started cleaning up the place. I watched her in pain as she cleaned up my blood. She didn’t hesitate to bloody her hands for my sake. After she had done wrapping things up, she came to me and assured me that there was nothing wrong with me and explained what was happening to my body. I was flustered from the embarrassment and the constant aching from my own body.

The lady helped me up off the couch into the bathroom and bathed me. I kept crying and repeated said thank you until she finished cleaning me up.

She tucked me into a clean sheet and waited for me to fall asleep. I don’t remember clearly what had happened after that, but I can recall bits of my memory. She was there next to me throughout the whole night until past midnight when Mike returned. She sat with him and explained to him what had happened to me that night. I can remember seeing Mike on the couch with his head down.

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The next day when I woke up, I found a warm, wet towel placed on my stomach. Mike was asleep on the couch and the elderly woman was cooking in the kitchen. Her food smelt just like my mother’s cooking from when I was 12.

I waddled into the kitchen and sniffed the thin air full of the macaroni scent. The creamy yet salty smell travelled right up through my nose to the memories that were stored in the far corner of my heart. It had been long since it was opened which made my heart skip a beat. “Oh dear, come, come. Sit right there and give me a minute.”

Her voice was very high yet comforting. I sat on the left side of the table, facing the kitchen. In less than a minute she brought out a bowl of macaroni and cheese. The cheesy smell thrusted my nose as I dug in without a sec to spare. The old lady laughed as she watched me shove the creamy pasta down my throat. To be honest I don’t think I chewed the food that morning, I kept on pushing it down my neck.

Only after finishing the dish could, I have a conversation with her.

“Are you done, dear?”

“Ehem, yes, thank you very much.”

“That’s good, that’s good…”

“Sorry for all the trouble yesterday.”

“No worries, I’m glad that I could help.”

It had been long since I had felt such kindness from another person. Once again, I broke out crying and she had to calm me down. She patted my back as I grabbed onto her. It felt as if I was in my mother’s arms.

Later that day I learnt that her name was Monica Vails. She lived alone next door. Her husband and son died in a car accident long ago when she was in her 30s. After that day we became very close. We’d go to each other’s houses often and go out to eat together. She felt like the mother that I never had during my 10s.

It was another day of waiting for Mike to return when I saw Mrs. Vails walking into her unit. “Good evening, Mrs. Vails. Do you need a hand?”

“Oh, yes please dear. Could you open the door for me?”

I helped her move her groceries in. That when I noticed the flower by the entrance of the door. “Did you get a new pot of flowers Mrs. Vails?” I walked towards the pot to take a better look at the flowers.

Mrs. Vails walked out of the kitchen and started shouting, “NO, Dear! Don’t touch that with your hands!” I flinched as I backed off of the pot. Mrs. Vails walked toward me with thick gloves and a spray full of water.

“This is a Hemlock dear.”

“What’s a Hemlock?”

“It’s a poisonous flower. If you’re not careful it might kill you.”

“Why is this in here?”

“Well, I saw someone throwing it away by the lake, so I had to bring it in.”

The flower was beautiful. Too beautiful to think that it was toxic.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I bet the original owners thought that as well. But after they discovered that it was poison, they threw it out just like that.”

For some reason, the flower reminded me of myself. Cherished by everyone before they found out that I was a poison. So, toxic that even being close could kill them. After watering the Hemlock Mrs. Vails made me wash my hands thoroughly before eating the steak that she had prepared for dinner. Mike came back earlier that day and joined us. We were like a happy family. Mrs. Vails was the mother and we were her two children. It was a joyful dinner, but I could help myself from staring at the poisonous plant throughout the rest of the evening.