I knocked on the old, all too familiar oak wood door, memories of the last moments I had there flooding my mind. They were still fresh and bruised just like a wound from a bicycle fall.My foster mother opened the door. Shocked to see me, she called my foster father then moved to hug me.
"I can't believe you are here. We left off on the wrong foot. I never thought you'd come back." Shamali said pulling away just as Ian appeared beside her.
"Becca! It's so great to see you." He said, hugging me too then ushered me inside.
I walked in the newly renovated house. What used to be a polished wooden floor was replaced by a stone vinyl cushion. The wood on the stairs was evenly polished and shiny, a brown carpet running all through only allowed to expose the sides.
Just by the door, there was a long, raised stool cabinet that gracefully held three picture frames. Two of them were of Shamali and Ian in Venice while the other one, between the two was of me whe
I stopped at the red light and nursed my cut, using an Elastoplast to cover its ugliness. It was best to keep off dust and air from the cut.I wondered if my parents were looking for me or they had given up with their search. Sewing my name on the dress was clever, making that as their first lead but there was no report of a missing child over all the years. Were they dead? Did they think I was dead?
"Becca, I can-let me make this up to you.""Don't you give me that threadbare crap." I scolded as I picked myself up."You've known all this time we were related, haven't you?" I asked as I forced him by his arm to face me. He still didn't spare a glance, instead his ga
Jeremy's POVBecca's father removed his flannel after a failed attempt of the mother ripping her skirt off. The flannel was all bloody from the contact of his hands which he had used to apply pressure on the gunshot wound. Well, that was the purpose it was supposed to serve, so I took the flannel begrudgingly and pressed on the wound to prevent further bleeding."Open your eyes, Becca! I'm here. Please! Look at me!" I solemnly begged.It was my fault."Call the ambulance!" I demanded."It's on its way." Her father, Joe, if I remembered correctly from her memory, replied."Will she survive?" Her mother asked, apprehensive."If the ambulance makes it on time." I said, pushing on the flannel harder, mentally smacking my head for my stupidity for some ulterior motive.I tried to be honest with myself. Becca was different in every which way. Cold, brutal, definitely, and her not trying at all to please anyone made h
"Spill!" Xander interposed, walking into his office where I had hid myself. He made himself comfortable on one of the armchairs across from me and crossed his legs. He was still on his scrubs since two hours ago."What do you want me to say, father?" I asked, meeting his eyes."Why you got Becca shot. She just got a life back and there you are on the verge of ruining it." He said, raising voice."What do you mean? She was perfectly alright." I asked frazzled, furrowing my eyebrows."After the surgery she came to feel again. She could now decipher things and make decisions without being stoic, violent or repulsive. She was just starting to become the person she was in the first place. Did you know she went back to her foster home after thirteen years, where they had kicked her out? She wouldn't have if she didn't feel anything."I leant back on the chair, silent."Jeremy!" He called lowly, concerned."Fine!-Dan shot her.""Dan?
"Becca, come with me!" A man called, his voice low, soft and warm.I looked to my right where the voice had emanated from.I scurried off towards the hand stretched out for me to take. I felt excited, happy, like a burden was lifted off my shoulders. I then, more than willingly, took the hand before confirming its owner.The hand was calloused against my soft one when I finally took it, yet it all felt like a counterfeit. It felt like a dream.I traced the muscles, up its shoulder to the owner, Dan!"No! Becca! Don't!" I shouted as I watched myself do the exact opposite.I saw myself smiling up at him and so did he, leading me to God knows where."Don't trust him! Gawd, are you listening to me?" I shouted harder, bitterly, my throat growing dry."She can't hear you." A calmer voice beside me said suddenly. I turned to my left to see, me? For the first time, I had worn a plain white jumpsuit, my feet b
"How are you holding up?" Xander asked just after he finished examining me.My chest, just close to my heart was burning up. It wasn't as painful as at that moment I was shot but the pain was bad. I've suffered a gunshot wound before when Marlon had invited me on one of the typical police chases. The suspect was a drug dealer, abuser and a single father. He had slaughtered his fifteen year old daughter in cold blood because he was high, drunkand angry.One of the officers silently opened the door to his house, followed by me then Marlon. I couldn't tell about the others, but I was already bored...and hungry. My stomach growled just as we stepped in, reminding me I skipped lunch for some stupid assignment against my will.Marlon signaled to split to cover more area. I took the basement the stupid girl I was, who refused to put on a bulletproof vest. The man was hiding behind a pool table, armed, high and drunk. When I approached him from behind and he, out
The lips were soft, and the breath tasted of mint. The person was gentle and slow as he forced his lips on mine but funny enough I kissed back. My hands remained limbly on my side, not making any move. I was afraid of opening my eyes and hate what I would see.A manly hand found my cheek as the person continued, in attempt to deepen the kiss but suddenly pulled back. My eyes remained closed as the heat went along with his body."I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry!" He whispered.The last person who kissed and apologized to me was Jeremy!No! It couldn't be him. The kiss was different, a lot genuine and soft. Jeremy's was rough, deep and lacked passion. It was like a forced kiss, a planned one."I should have come by earlier but work took its roots." He whispered again. He then sighed and shuffled his feet against the floor. Was he nervous?I finally but cautiously opened my eyes. The moonlight had ceased allowing the security lights
I was just about to have my first bite of the hospital’s scrambled eggs, but my appetite took off like a plane to China when he walked into the room. I thought I had less to deal with until the doors had to just swing open for him to walk majestically, as if he wasn't responsible for my state. I placed down the fork, pushed the tray aside, fluffed my own pillow and rested my head on it, closing my eyes. I put on imaginary headphones and pretended to listen to classical music.“Can we talk?” I had him ask but my pretend music was still playing. I moved my head in the imaginary symphony.“Becca, please!” He begged, his voice sounding close.I heard the scrape of a chair against the floor and a presence beside me. Why didn't he just give up? Couldn't he get my message? I wanted to be alone.“Open your eyes and look at me. Maybe you will heal faster.” I heard him say.I mentally rolled my eyes.