new parent

I'm the niece of mobster John Harris. I'm four years old, my brother is seven. My mother loves him, but not me. That's just a fact. Uncle John always thinks about me: he brings me gifts, pats my head. When my brother asks why he doesn't have anything, Uncle calmly replies, "You're a big boy now. Boys your age don't need toys." One night I woke up and went to the kitchen. I heard an argument in the living room: Mom and Uncle John. "You're going too far!" Mom said. "She's a child and deserves love," the uncle replied. "You're ignoring her." The door opened, my uncle saw me and quietly asked:

• Lily, do you want to come with me? Right now? “Yes! ” she grabbed his hand. We quietly walked out and got into the car. The house was receding through the window, and something new awaited us ahead. Soon we pulled up to a huge house with a high fence. The gates opened, and the car drove into the yard. My uncle led me inside. The spacious hallway was stunning: marble floors, a grand staircase, and a wall-to-wall mirror. "Let's get you cleaned up, " he said, taking off my tattered dress and socks with the threads sticking out. "These aren't clothes for a little princess." I ran to inspect the house. My uncle followed me, smiling:
• What a fidget. But I like it. Suddenly the phone rang. “Yes, ” answered the uncle. I heard my mother scream: — You stole my daughter! I'm calling the police! Uncle answered calmly: "She wanted to come with me herself. Think about why your daughter is running away from you. If you want her back, come and talk to her like an adult. But if you raise your voice at her again, I'll make sure you never see her again." He hung up and sat down next to me: "It's okay. No one's going to take you away. Come on, I'll show you your room—there are lots of toys there." I took my uncle's hand. "This is the most beautiful house in the world!" I breathed. “Yes, ” he smiled. “And now it’s your home.” For the first time I felt like I had a home where I was welcomed and loved.