Seventeen-year old Jade Smith sauntered into the room she shared with her soon-to-be eighteen-year old roommate Bridget Grey.  Jade’s frizzy red hair, fair skin and freckles reminded Bridget of a Raggedy Ann doll she once owned.  Her hourglass figure did not.  Her measurements were 38-24-38 and Jade lorded those measurements over men like they were money in the bank.  And, as far as Jade was concerned they were.  While Bridget disliked being noticed by men, Jade reveled in it.  She fully intended to use her body to get anything and everything that she wanted.  Bridget on the other hand couldn’t imagine any woman selling herself that short, especially her best friend.  Bridget silently hoped Jade would change.  Jade on the other hand, had every intention of seeing to it that Bridget DID change.

      “Hey girl; Buster gave me something for you – it’s some of that nasty ass rice pudding you like!  I don’t know how the hell you can eat that shit,” Jade said.

      “Jade, I told you not to take anything from Buster, especially not for me.  He looks at me like I’m a goddamned steak or something.
      Jade and Bridget had both been at Mannersville Group Home for almost six years.  They had both been born addicted to heroin and had both been forced to endure the nasty withdrawal symptoms babies like them suffered.  It took a special kind of parent to adopt such a baby.  Such parents never came along for Jade and Bridget.  They were both close to 18 and counting the days until they could strike out on their own.  Bridget was a good student and wanted more than anything to go to college someday.  Jade had every intention of going back to her mother when she got out even though it had been resolved that as long as she was a minor she would probably never be allowed to go back to her mother legally.  But no one could do anything about where she lived when she turned 18.  It didn’t matter to Jade that her mother was still addicted to heroin and hookin’ on Hunts Point.  As far as Jade knew, her father could have been any one of the many John’s her mother had encountered over the years.  Yet, all she talked about was getting out of Mannersville Group Home and getting back to the ..Bronx...  Over the years, she had often tried to talk Bridget into escaping with her, assuring her that her mother would take care of both of them.  When she was younger, it never even occurred to her that if her mother was truly able to care for her, she wouldn’t have ended up here in the first place.  But, as time went on, Jade got tougher and stronger and her logic was that she didn’t need ANYONE to care for her, including her mother – she could care for herself.  Fortunately, Bridget’s level head won out – she convinced Jade that running away would be the worst thing they could do.  She assured Jade that if they ran, they would be running the rest of their lives and neither of them wanted that.  Bridget’s mom had died of a drug overdose almost a year after Bridget was born and her dad; a drug dealer, was killed not long after that by the people he was selling for, when he got caught sampling a little too much of the product.  She had a grandmother that had visited her and tried on a couple of occasions to get her out of the numerous foster homes she had lived in, but her grandmother had gambling problems and health problems and could barely maintain a stable home for herself, much less a small child born addicted to heroin.  When Bridget was just 10 years old, the possibility of her grandmother raising her was erased as an option.  Her last remaining relative – her mother’s mom, Grandma Hilliard, died of complications related to diabetes at the age of 58, young by U.S. standards, but not so young when you’ve lived a lifetime in the hood.  Bridget was allowed to attend the funeral and grieved as best she could for a family member she barely knew.
      Bridget and Jade were as different as two people could be.  But, Jade was the closest thing to family that Bridget had known and she wanted more than anything to keep her safe.  Bridget was afraid that without her guidance, Jade was headed down the same road each of their parents had traveled.  Bridget had made herself a solemn vow that she would never, ever be her mother, and neither would Jade be hers, if Bridget had anything to say about it.  Bridget would be 18 today and in just six months Jade would turn 18 as well, and they would both be free. 
      “Why you trippin’ Bridget,” Jade asked?  “Buster ain’t so bad.  He likes you.”
      “Buster is a grown ass man.  He’s gotta’ be at least 40 years old.  He’s old enough to be my father.  I know he fucks around with some of these other girls, but I ain’t down with that.  My shit is precious and I’m not givin’ it up to the first loser that wants it. 
      “You ain’t ‘givin’ it up’ period,” Jade whispered under her breath.
      Bridget heard every word she said.
      “No, I’m not, until I’m ready.  I got plans and they don’t include being a pregnant teenage mother or selling myself short.  I want more than that.”
      “Check you out, Miss Thang.  I’m just tryin’ to help you out.  Buster helps a lot of the girls here.  I’ve heard he’s even been known to turn his head and allow girls to sneak out on occasion.  And, if you’re nice to him, I’m sure he’ll be nice to US.”
      Bridget had heard through the grapevine that one of the many times Jade had run away she had been able to do so after giving one of the workers at the home a blow job.  She wondered if it was Buster.  Not only that, Jade had shared with her countless stories of her sexual encounters with various foster parents and group home workers.  She even thought she heard her say once that she worked the streets with her mother the last time she was home.  Bridget often hoped they were just stories Jade dreamed up to entertain her, but she suspected that at least some of these stories probably had a ring of truth to them.
      “I’ll tell you what, if you feel that strongly about it, why don’t YOU be nice to Buster for “us” Bridget offered?
      “One very important reason,” Jade answered.  “He doesn’t like me, he likes you.”
      “I’m sorry Jade, but there are some things I just won’t do – not even for you.”
      “Besides,” Bridget added.  “I’ve got much more important things to think about; like what kind of cake I want for my birthday.”
      Each of the children at Mannersville got their choice of birthday cakes every year.  Bridget’s favorite was chocolate chip cookie dough.  It was Sunday, June 15, 1991.  The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and it was her birthday.  She was 18 today!  Bridget was especially excited this year, because she would finally leave the numerous “temporary” homes she had lived in and get on with the adventure of living her life.  Over the years she had felt as though she were living in limbo; never truly belonging to anyone or anything -- that is until she met Jade.  Even though Jade would not be leaving for at least six months, since her birthday was not until December 29, Bridget had no intention of forgetting about her best friend.  She had it all planned out.  She had already gotten her diploma last year, thanks to her dedication to her studies and she was fully prepared to get a job working as a typist or secretary.  She had taken typing classes and transcription classes preparing for her new life.  She was going to get a job and a place where they BOTH could live; which would be waiting for Jade as soon as she left Mannersville.  Jade, on the other hand, fully expected Bridget to forget about her as soon as she left and obsessed over it night and day.  She had been a horrible student and would be lucky if she could get a job at McDonald’s when she got out of here.  Bridget was hoping to go to law school one day and she had fine-tuned her researching skills by finding out all she could about the emancipation laws of ....New York City.....  However, Jade had done everything she could to discourage Bridget from attempting to leave at age 16.  But, there was nothing she could do now that Bridget was 18; she was leaving and that was that.  Bridget was looking forward to this birthday more than any other she had ever had.  It seemed to her that a world of possibilities was just waiting for her, like an open door.  She gouged herself on lots of cake and ice-cream and opened her presents.  Jade told Bridget there was a present for her in their room, but that she should wait until they got back to their room before she opened it; so Bridget agreed.  Lights out was typically at 10:00, but Mama Dixon, the operator of Mannersville allowed them to stay up until 11:00 on birthday nights.  Bridget and Jade headed back to their room at around 10:30.  Bridget couldn’t wait to open her present.
      “Go on, open it,” Jade urged.
      Bridget ripped open the modestly wrapped, 99 cent store paper from the package.  Inside there was a small burgundy velvet jewelry box.  When Bridget opened the box she was surprised to find a beautiful gold heart-shaped necklace, with what looked like diamonds encircling the heart.  Bridget assumed it was gold-plated and that the stones were cubic zircons.  After all, there was no way Jade could afford such an expensive necklace – if it were real.  She loved the necklace, no matter what it was made of, because it came from Jade, her sister-friend – the only real family she had ever known.
      Tears welled up in Bridget’s eyes
      “Now don’t go startin’ that shit,” Jade said.
      Bridget wrapped her arms around Jade and hugged her with all her might.
      Between the excitement of the birthday party and all the cake and ice-cream, Bridget was asleep in no time.  At about 3:00 in the morning Bridget was stirred awake by light filtering through the open doorway.  Someone had entered the room.  She assumed it was Jade coming back from the bathroom or something, but she quickly discovered it was not.  The person crossed the room and sat on her bed.  It was Buster and he reeked of alcohol.
      “Buster, you know if Mama Dixon finds out you’re in my room after lights out you’re going to be in big trouble, don’t you.”
      He just sat there leering at her.  And Bridget suddenly became aware of what she was wearing.  She had on an extremely transparent white t-shirt and no bra and a pair of sweats.  Her blanket was covering her up to her waist, but her upper body was noticeably uncovered.
      “Whatcha’ talkin’ about Mama Dixon for,” Buster slurred?  “I just came to give you the rest of your birthday present.  3:00 on the dot, just like you told me to.  Buster waved in the direction of Jade’s empty bed and the clock on the bedside table.”
      Bridget tried to maneuver herself out of the bed, but Buster had to weigh at least 260 pounds and he was sitting on the blanket, almost on top of her.  Bridget stared at the door to the room, waiting for Jade.  Where on earth could she be?  Maybe she was in the bathroom, Bridget thought to herself.  Yeah, she was probably in the bathroom, which meant she would be back any minute now.  She didn’t think Buster was dangerous, but she recognized this look – she had been dodging that look in one foster home or another for most of her life.  When you combined that look with alcohol, the end result could be unspeakable.  Many girls (and boys) she had known through the years had fallen prey.
      Bridget tried talking to Buster as calmly as possible, even though she was getting more and more frightened with each passing second.
      “Buster, what are you talking about – 3:00.  I didn’t tell you to meet me here.”
      “Yeah you did.  You said 3:00 and it’s 3:00 now – it’s past 3:00 it’s 3:13; and I got something real special for you.”
      Buster moved the covers out of the way and fell on top of Bridget’s body.  He was like dead weight.  He started pulling at her breasts; pushing his hand between her legs and fumbling with the waistband of her sweat pants, trying to remove them.
      “Buster, stop!  Just stop it!  Please stop Buster.  If you leave now, I won’t say a thing to Mama Dixon.  Just leave. STOP!!!!
      While he was busy nibbling her breasts through her t-shirt, Bridget tried to scream, to no avail.  Buster covered her mouth and no amount of struggling could free her from his grip.  His hand against her mouth was like a great big slab of beef, imprisoning her.  He forced her sweat pants down to her ankles before he invaded her chaste soul, pounding into her again and again, while he muttered through the horrible stench of his alcohol-induced breath, Happy Birthday baby, Happy birthday, punctuating every word with violent thrusts that Bridget thought might literally tear her apart.”  He took from her the one thing she felt separated her from the ugliness of the world she was born into.  He stole her most precious gift, one she planned to hold in reserve for someone she loved and who loved her in earnest.  Grandma Hilliard always told her she might not have a pot to piss in, but she had her chastity and her dignity.  Now, in Bridget’s mind, she had lost both.  Buster Williams had seen to that.  Then, suddenly, it was over.  Within a matter of minutes her life had been irrevocably changed. 
      He climbed off of the top of Bridget and stood up.  He reached down and wiped the tears that were streaming down her face, looked at the blood stained sheets, remnants of the innocence he had deprived her of.  Bridget couldn’t understand why he looked so confused or was it regret at the monstrous thing he had just done.  Maybe that was the look she recognized.
      “What’s wrong baby, I just wanted to give you the rest of your birthday present, like you said.  What did I do wrong?  Is it because it was your first time?  Don’t worry, it’ll be better the next time.”
      In that split second Bridget was like a person sleepwalking through a horrible nightmare.  All she heard through her haze was the words “the next time”.  She leapt out of bed and picked up the desk chair in the corner of the room and began hitting Buster with it over and over again until he fell to the floor.  The element of surprise and the alcohol worked against him.  He was powerless.  She hit him so hard the chair leg broke off in her hands, revealing several large rusty nails.  She used the protruding nails to beat Buster Williams over and over again in the chest until he lay there motionless.
      Bridget was soaked in blood and in shock when Jade returned to the room.  Jade walked in and immediately noticed Buster’s prone form.  She quickly spun into action.
      “Bridget, we need to leave.  NOW!  Mama Dixon and the others will be looking for Buster soon.  Bridget, you’ve got to snap out of it.  We have to leave RIGHT NOW!”
      Bridget stared off into space, mumbling “never again.”
      Jade decided Bridget would need a shock to set her “right,” so she did what she had always seen people do on t.v.  She slapped Bridget across the face and amazingly it worked.  Bridget snapped out of it.  She looked around the room, suddenly aware of her predicament.
      “Oh my God,” she shrieked.  “What have I done?”
      Jade scrambled around the room, picking up this and that.  She grabbed both of their duffel bags from the closet and began throwing things in it at random; her clothes, Bridget’s clothes, anything her hand could get a hold of and that would fit into the bags.  Then she reached down and started going through Buster’s pants pockets.
      “What are you doing Jade?  Don’t touch him!”
      “We have to Bridget.  Otherwise, what are we going to do for money; he obviously doesn’t need it anymore.”