“Jolene Bell, you’re already a month behind on rent. Don’t play dead with me—you have to move out today…”
Jolene Bell? Who’s that?
Her head was splitting with pain. The air around her was thick with the pungent smell of cheap alcohol and a rotten, mildewy stench that made her cough. “Cough, cough, cough…”
Through her blurry vision, a middle-aged white woman with an exaggeratedly large frame—her thighs thicker than Jolene’s waist—was frowning down at her, speaking rapid-fire English, her voice fading in and out.
But strangely, she could understand every single word.
Jolene clutched her head and pulled herself up from the floor. Her arms felt weak, and she nearly collapsed again. She was about to ask where this was, but her throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire.
“Whimper…”
A soft, animal-like whimper reached her ears.
A little girl, about five years old, with messy blonde hair and big blue eyes filled with tears—tears that stubbornly refused to fall—looked up at her with nothing but hope.
That whimper seemed to remind the middle-aged woman. Her scolding cut off abruptly, and a flicker of pity crossed her face. But then, as if remembering something, she turned back to Jolene and steeled herself. “No, you have to move out today. I’ve already lost a month’s rent. Damn it, look what you’ve done to my place! God, I only rented to a drunk because of Emma…”
The small, damp, cramped room was littered with empty liquor bottles scattered across the floor.
Seeing that Jolene was awake but still not saying a word, the landlady lost her patience completely and stepped forward to grab her.
“Anyone home? We’re from Child Protective Services. We received a report that a child is at risk of neglect due to a parent’s alcoholism. Please cooperate with our investigation!”
A deep male voice called out from outside the window.
Child Protective Services?
The original owner’s memories came flooding in, overwhelming Jolene’s mind all at once and nearly knocking her out again.
It turned out the original owner was a single mother. After losing all hope in the child’s father, she started drinking when the girl was three. She hadn’t worked in five years and had blown through all her savings, which was why she couldn’t pay the rent.
But here was the problem: according to the original owner’s memories, if she had no money for rent, no steady job, drank constantly, couldn’t properly fulfill her parental duties, and put her child at risk of neglect, CPS could send social workers to investigate and gather evidence. For these reasons, they could petition the court for a “preliminary protective order” and take the child away…
Even though this wasn’t her own child, and Jolene could barely take care of herself right now, this was still the original owner’s daughter. And the terrified look in the child’s eyes said it all.
No matter how bad a mother might be, the child still wanted to be with her.
Jolene had never given birth, had never even been married. Maybe it was the original owner’s lingering consciousness, but a powerful urge surged through her heart: She had to grab the child and run.
Yes—run now. If the CPS workers saw this room full of bottles and saw how wasted she was, once the child was taken away, getting custody back would be nearly impossible…
“Bang, bang, bang—”
The knocking on the first-floor door grew louder. “Please open up! We’re from Child Protective Services—we need to verify the child’s condition!”
The landlady looked at Jolene one more time, then turned and headed downstairs to open the door.
And so, the very next second, as the landlady went down to answer it, Jolene’s heart clenched. She grabbed the little girl by the corner of the room and asked urgently, “Emma, do you want to run away with Mommy?”
Her voice was hoarse and harsh, but the words came out in perfect English.
The child’s little hand was ice-cold. When Jolene took it, there wasn’t a moment’s hesitation—just boundless trust. Those big blue eyes held all the adoration of a small creature for its mother.
“Mommy, let’s run. I don’t want to be apart from you.” Emma nodded firmly, the fear gone from her eyes.
From the fragments of memory she had, Jolene recalled that this old apartment building had a fire escape leading to the back alley.
Holding the girl’s hand, Jolene didn’t hesitate. She pulled open the door and bolted for the back exit.
Emma trotted along, doing her best to keep up with her mother’s pace.
The mother and daughter pushed open that rusted iron door, which let out a creak that echoed sharply through the quiet, empty alley.
Climbing down the fire escape, Jolene dropped to the ground, then turned around and reached out her arms.
Without a second thought, the girl threw herself into her embrace.
She was so light—five years old, but weighing about as much as Jolene’s tabby cat back home.
Good thing she was so light; otherwise, Jolene, whose body had been ravaged by alcohol, wouldn’t have been able to carry her.
Setting the girl back on the ground, the two of them ran toward the mouth of the alley.
The alley was narrow and dark, piled high with garbage and reeking of foul odors. Her hangover headache made her vision go dark in waves, but she couldn’t stop.
Sunlight streamed through the gap at the alley’s end. They turned the corner and emerged onto another street in San Francisco’s slums.
The street was a complete mess—garbage piled on both sides, rotting food scraps, even used pillows and human waste, making it nearly impossible to find a place to step.
Crude tents lined the sidewalks, homes for the many homeless people living here. Addicts and vagrants sat along the street, staring blankly at the mother and daughter passing by.
The buildings were dilapidated, covered in graffiti, and the roads were full of potholes.
This was a notorious slum—no wonder the original owner had rented here. The neighborhood was dangerous, but the rent was dirt cheap…
Pulling Emma along, Jolene’s head was buzzing—like tinnitus, much like the state she’d been in during her past life when she couldn’t sleep from writer’s block and stress.
Still, she figured that in a place like this, there were probably plenty of irresponsible parents. Child Protective Services couldn’t possibly keep track of everyone, so there was no reason they’d single her out.
“Mommy, where are we going now?” Emma asked quietly as they walked.
Jolene didn’t know either. She’d been a homebody in her past life—never worked after graduation, joined a writers’ group, and rented an apartment with a few other authors in Fengcheng Residential Complex. They’d do online writing sprints during the week and hang out together on weekends.
She’d never even been abroad—how was she supposed to know what to do?
But that was okay. She hadn’t lived through this, but she’d done tons of research for her novels. She could figure out a plan.
“Let’s find a restroom first and get cleaned up,” Jolene said.
She was still hungry, but she couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol on herself—it was almost making her pass out. Besides, with the hot weather, anyone who saw her like this would instantly know she’d been drinking.
The mother and daughter found the biggest shopping mall nearby, located a restroom on the second floor, slipped inside, waited for the other patrons to leave, and then locked the main door.
“Mommy, someone’s coming.” Emma glanced outside, quickly shut the door, and called out to Jolene.
The woman in the mirror was about twenty-five. Years of heavy drinking and irregular sleep had left her complexion dull and pale, with an unhealthy flush on her cheeks. Her eyelids were puffy, her face somewhat gaunt and haggard. But she still looked young. Both mother and daughter had blue eyes, delicate noses with slightly upturned tips, and close-set brows that gave them a sharp, lively look.
At that moment, Jolene was down to her underwear, quickly rinsing herself with cold water. At Emma’s warning, she waved the girl over, and they both ducked into a stall.
After the shuffling noises faded, they came back out. Emma pattered over to the door and volunteered to keep watch for her mother.
But she was too small to hold the door shut. If they locked it, mall staff might think something was wrong inside.
So Jolene finished her shower, then swapped places with Emma.
She lifted the child onto the counter, turned on the faucet, and cupped water to wash the grime off Emma’s little face and hair.
Emma obediently leaned her face closer, her big eyes fixed on her mother, lips pressed together in silence.
“No shampoo—will hand soap do for now?” Jolene felt a little guilty as she squeezed some out. She looked at Emma, then added, “Can you close your eyes for me?”
Jolene had never taken care of a child before—only dogs and cats. She thought to herself: What if this kid suddenly bursts into tears? What would I do?
But the next second, Emma blinked and obediently shut her eyes. “Mommy, they’re closed.”
Jolene’s heart softened. She’d never seen such a well-behaved child.
And yet here she was, washing this sweet little girl’s hair with public restroom hand soap…
She sighed inwardly and quickly rinsed Emma’s hair clean. Thankfully, the faucet had hot water, so the child wouldn’t catch a cold.
After a rough rinse, they both huddled under the hand dryer together to dry their hair.
Their clothes had gotten soaked during the wash, so Jolene dried those too.
The dryer hummed loudly but would shut off after a while, requiring a hand wave to reactivate the sensor.
Jolene did this a few times, and Emma caught on quickly.
The little girl tilted her head up, stretched out her hand, and tried to mimic her mother’s motion to trigger the sensor. But no matter how she waved, the dryer wouldn’t respond.
“Like this.” Jolene took her hand and lifted it higher—and the dryer kicked back on.
Once their hair was finally dry, Jolene looked down and reached out her hand. “Come on, let’s go find somewhere to stay.”
Emma stayed quiet the whole time, obediently following behind her. The fear had left her eyes, but she no longer spoke.
Now Jolene was thinking about where they’d sleep tonight. They couldn’t go back to that rented apartment, and she had no idea who’d reported her.
But once she found a place, she’d need to find time to go back and retrieve their belongings.
There wasn’t much—just some documents and clothes. She hoped the landlady hadn’t thrown everything out.
Remembering the way the landlady had looked at Emma, Jolene knew she was a decent person and probably wouldn’t toss all their stuff.
But what were they going to do?
The original owner had spent all her money on rent and booze. There were a few loose dollars at home, but in their rush to escape, they now had nothing—not even identification. They couldn’t go to social services or apply for a shelter, because that would expose her long-term drinking and neglectful parenting, and she could lose custody of Emma immediately.
Even if she wanted to wait tables, she’d at least need an ID or a reference letter. And what would she do with Emma while she worked?
Then it hit her—she had Emma.
Yes. That was it. Because she was penniless and had a child in tow, even without identification, a church would prioritize helping her. After all, this was exactly the kind of urgent situation they were there for.
With that in mind, Jolene took Emma to a church in the nearby Tenderloin district—a poor, run-down neighborhood.
At the church office, Jolene cut straight to the chase: “Hello, I’m unemployed and can’t pay my rent. My landlord kicked us out. I don’t have a single dollar on me, and my child hasn’t had anything to drink since last night. We have nowhere to stay. Excuse me, my child and I—can we stay here tonight?”
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