For Once 38
Oh my.. I am sooooo sorry for not updating sooner. The last two weeks were so busy at work and I was more like a zombie than a human... :D But now I have holidays and hope my inspiration won't let me down. Hugs and kisses!
Yours Lea
Confession
I walk behind you, lacing my fingers with yours.
My head rests on your shoulder.
Your body feels tense.
“Come along. They will be ecstatic when you bring them pancakes in the morning”
You nod and close the door softly.
A few minutes later we sit in your study, curled up under a woolen blanket but in separate corners.
You purse your lips, deep in thought.
I take your hand in mine, assuring you there is nothing that will push me away.
That I shouldn't judge too early you say, pulling your hand away.
“When I was seven, my parents died. A car crash. I had a rehearsal in school and was so angry at them because they were late. The school got a call and just told me right away. A plain: Sorry darl, but they won't come. They're dead.”
I feel my heart break and want to go back in your past, punching those teachers and cradle the seven-years old you in my arms.
You take a deep breath-
“Don't look at me like this. It is the past. Neither you nor I will ever change it. Anyway, there were no grandparents or family friends so I landed on the street in the end. I thought I would somehow get along, alone.
So to earn money I sang in the streets and one day, don't ask me after what amount of time, a man stopped by and wanted to know why I was not in school.”
In my thoughts I beg that he didn't harm you, that it didn't mean he took advantage of you.
I feel sick and I guess you can see it right away.
“Don't worry. He was my lifesafer, not what you think.”
You spread your arms, allowing me to crawl over and snuggle against you.
My head resting against your chest, listening to the calming heartbeat.
“I had nothing to loose and when he knew of my fate he wrapped his coat around me,
taking me home to his wife.
She took care of me, buying me the most beautiful dresses and shoes.
And the most expensive.
They became my family and I was their child from this point.”
Making an inner note to send them a big thank you if I ever get to know who these people are, I hug your waist gently mumbling that I am glad you were taken care of.
“Thank you... uhm, well I went to school again and got training in martial arts and in the afternoons I went to my now stepmothers studio and helped her sewing for her collection. She was a wonderful designer and I learned everything about fashion.
The older I got the more I learned about why I got all this fighting training...I learned to shoot, to hide, to plot and became a kind of soldier.
All this was in a separated school for me and the children of my stepparents friends.
It was like the mafia.. not exactly the same but kind of.
Part of the reason why I was adopted had been me were to become there weapon.
I couldn't leave them because they were all I head and they sent me to Oxford. I got the best education I could get and when I was finished they paid my tickets to go to America and got me a job in publishing world. I had a column about fashion and soon I worked my way up to the position I have now.
Every child of their organization was told to keep up their training until they were called for their mission.”
Recognition set in and I looked up.
“That's where you had been? On your mission?”
You nod and look at me sadly.
“It was my debt. I was back in England, I crept through the nights, destroyed evidences, killed not only once and protected what you would call la familia if it was about the mafia.”
You killed, you are some ninja-soldier, you look scared.
Right..I should react somehow.
But all I can do is stare up at you.
How is someone supposed to deal with that?
Chapter 1: http://heartbigapple.livejournal.com/572.html
Chapter 39: http://heartbigapple.livejournal.com/10590.html
Yours Lea
Confession
I walk behind you, lacing my fingers with yours.
My head rests on your shoulder.
Your body feels tense.
“Come along. They will be ecstatic when you bring them pancakes in the morning”
You nod and close the door softly.
A few minutes later we sit in your study, curled up under a woolen blanket but in separate corners.
You purse your lips, deep in thought.
I take your hand in mine, assuring you there is nothing that will push me away.
That I shouldn't judge too early you say, pulling your hand away.
“When I was seven, my parents died. A car crash. I had a rehearsal in school and was so angry at them because they were late. The school got a call and just told me right away. A plain: Sorry darl, but they won't come. They're dead.”
I feel my heart break and want to go back in your past, punching those teachers and cradle the seven-years old you in my arms.
You take a deep breath-
“Don't look at me like this. It is the past. Neither you nor I will ever change it. Anyway, there were no grandparents or family friends so I landed on the street in the end. I thought I would somehow get along, alone.
So to earn money I sang in the streets and one day, don't ask me after what amount of time, a man stopped by and wanted to know why I was not in school.”
In my thoughts I beg that he didn't harm you, that it didn't mean he took advantage of you.
I feel sick and I guess you can see it right away.
“Don't worry. He was my lifesafer, not what you think.”
You spread your arms, allowing me to crawl over and snuggle against you.
My head resting against your chest, listening to the calming heartbeat.
“I had nothing to loose and when he knew of my fate he wrapped his coat around me,
taking me home to his wife.
She took care of me, buying me the most beautiful dresses and shoes.
And the most expensive.
They became my family and I was their child from this point.”
Making an inner note to send them a big thank you if I ever get to know who these people are, I hug your waist gently mumbling that I am glad you were taken care of.
“Thank you... uhm, well I went to school again and got training in martial arts and in the afternoons I went to my now stepmothers studio and helped her sewing for her collection. She was a wonderful designer and I learned everything about fashion.
The older I got the more I learned about why I got all this fighting training...I learned to shoot, to hide, to plot and became a kind of soldier.
All this was in a separated school for me and the children of my stepparents friends.
It was like the mafia.. not exactly the same but kind of.
Part of the reason why I was adopted had been me were to become there weapon.
I couldn't leave them because they were all I head and they sent me to Oxford. I got the best education I could get and when I was finished they paid my tickets to go to America and got me a job in publishing world. I had a column about fashion and soon I worked my way up to the position I have now.
Every child of their organization was told to keep up their training until they were called for their mission.”
Recognition set in and I looked up.
“That's where you had been? On your mission?”
You nod and look at me sadly.
“It was my debt. I was back in England, I crept through the nights, destroyed evidences, killed not only once and protected what you would call la familia if it was about the mafia.”
You killed, you are some ninja-soldier, you look scared.
Right..I should react somehow.
But all I can do is stare up at you.
How is someone supposed to deal with that?
Chapter 1: http://heartbigapple.livejournal.com/572.html
Chapter 39: http://heartbigapple.livejournal.com/10590.html