CHEROKEE STAR
Part 6 (Continued From Post on 11/28/10)

He [the Sheriff] had opened his mouth to say something when she [Cherokee] suddenly whirled around and looked at him. He was startled not only by the unexpected move but also by what he saw. Tears streamed down her cheeks!

“That’s not true, what I just said about my mother. I remember now. She used to sing to me in the night after he got through with me and had fallen asleep on the floor in the lean-to. She’d creep in there and help me to her bed and lie there in the dark and sing softly in my ear until I feel asleep. Those same lullabies. I felt safe and warm there in her arms, listening to those soothing words I’d heard my Grandma sing. And I would dream of leaving there and becoming a famous singer.”

He wisely chose not to say a word, just let her talk it out. After another moment of silence, she continued.

“Why couldn’t I remember that? Why did I only remember that she never stopped him? I hated her for that.”

“Maybe this was all she felt strong enough to do for you, to comfort you afterward.”

“Maybe . . . but I was only a child. She was a grown woman. And she chose to live with that monster. Why didn’t she take my brother and me and just leave? Wouldn’t that have been better than forcing me to grow up like this—and to kill?”

“She never forced you to kill, Cherokee. That was your choice. She told you to take the money and get out, to go where you’d be safe. She had no way of knowing he’d come back and catch you before you could leave. She was trying to protect you the only way she knew how. Don’t be so harsh with her. You have made many of the same mistakes she did, you know.”

“What do you mean? I don’t have a little girl but if I did I certainly wouldn’t sit by and watch her being treated like I was without lifting a hand to help her. And I’m not living with a monster, you know.”

“Oh, yes, you are, young lady, most definitely! You live with the monster of your nightmares. Every time you close your eyes, he’s right there. And it fuels your hatred and bitterness so much that when you wake up you feel compelled to go out and try to kill him again and again. That’s your monster. And now he’s won.”

“Won? What are you talking about? I’m the one who ‘won’. I have had more money than I ever dreamed I could have owned in my whole life, enough to buy anything I want. Far more than he ever had in his miserable life. And the power to take more anytime I desire to do so. People are afraid of me when I walk down the street and if they forget for a moment, the posters will remind them of just how dangerous I am. He hasn’t won anything. He’s dead and I killed him.”

To Be Continued . . .