This time, NO disclaimers. (Woot! XD ) cause this is an original fic.
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By, Fantasia [email protected] . . . "Children will not remember you for the material things you provided, but for the feelings that you cherished them." ~*Richard L. Evans*~ . . . . . I was nine when I first met HER.
She was standing outside the orphanage gates, seemingly in a deep conversation with the patron while watching each of us intently as we play. Let me enlighten more about my pathetic life. I was an orphan, never knowing who my real parents were. The authorities just told me that I was found by a kind soul one day in a large garbage bin and that I was lucky to be even alive.
However, I wished I were dead. After all, my very own so-called 'parents' intended to kill me in the first place; the people in the orphanage hate me because they think I was weird; and I was a total cast-out with the other orphans. I despised my life. I despised myself even more.
Anyway back to my story. as usual, I was seated at the corner of the room, forever looking out of the window. My dark eyes met with Hers. Till today I was not sure how I noticed then that Her eyes were hazel and glassy, reflecting the light like little stars. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, before turning back and spoke rapidly to Mrs. Roosevelt, the infamous horrible patron who took care of us. I was taken aback when Mrs. Roosevelt turned to look at me for a moment then immediately told Her something while shaking her head vigourously. I knew fully well that Mrs. Roosevelt hated me more than anything else in the world and wished that I was not under her care, or better yet, never existed. The feeling was mutual anyway. Whatever Mrs. Roosevelt said had not seemed to convince her anything, for She turned around and pointed directly at me. I knew there and then they were talking about me.
I was right. A few days later I was told that someone was willing adopt me and I should feel blessed. Unfortunately, I hardly feel so at all. I only rejoiced at the fact that I was finally leaving this asylum. On my way out, I met Her. I simply stared at Her while She smiled kindly and took my hands from the authorities before leading me out of the place, which I gladly bid goodbye to.
She brought me to Her home and gave me a room of my own. During the first few months of living with Her, I learnt that She was never married and live by Herself. There were not much rules to obey in the Her house compared to in the orphanage. I was allowed to do anything I like, but the only rule was that I must always be on time for dinner at 7pm. She called it our 'quality time' together, but I hardly think so. She often tried to coax me into a conversation, asking me about my life and school, but I never talked much. After all, what was even there to talk about? As far as I was concerned, I never even have a life.
She enrolled me to a proper school nearby. However I spent most of the time dozing off in classes and missing lessons anyway. I could never understand Her point of giving me a proper education. She was often asked to meet the teachers because I was misbehaving in class. Yet She never scolded me or even showed a hint of anger. Either She had a patience of a saint or that She just could not care enough to do mind me.
I got even worse when my teenage years rolled by. I mixed with the wrong crowd and somehow ended up smoking my life away. School then was scarcely a part of my life anymore. I had quite rugged good looks and attracted many girls, but I hardly pay any attention to them. Those girls were just spoilt brats who had far too much vocal chords, in my opinion. I somehow managed to break every single rule in the school, but astonishingly enough I kept my promise to Her that I would be back home for dinner at 7 every evening without fail.
However, one fateful evening came by, and the one and only rule set by Her was broken. I was at the pub the whole time, drinking till all my senses were gone and I totally lost track of time. The music was too loud and my heart was racing with the beat. My surroundings were blurry and someone shoved some pills into my hand. I took the pills without even bothering to check what those are. My senses suddenly perked up and my head was light. I felt the irresistible urge to dance to the music and move my hot body around.
Unknowingly, I partied till three in the morning and would have continued to do so, if it were not for the fact that police had barged into the pub and were arresting the people there, including me. With the effect of the pills still in my head, I put up little resistance and was taken into custody like a drunken fool, which I was.
Only when I was in the police station and given ice-cold water, then was I finally stabled. I did not need to wait long when I saw the familiar figure of Her, coming into the station to bail me out of my three charges, that consist of drinking, taking Estacy pills and for being underage in a pub. I was not sure I was ashamed or embarrassed when She stared at me without saying anything. We drove back home in absolute silence and the car felt so chilling that night.
When I walked through the font door, I was surprised to see dinner all lay out on the table and realized that She had waited for me till three in the morning. The food was still warm, that meant that She had reheated the food many times, hoping that when I come home I would be able to enjoy a hot and delicious dinner. Now that I was back, I watched Her silent movement as She dumped the food into the rubbish bin without remorse.
When She walked back from the kitchen, She stared at me in the eye before backhanding me with a resounding slap and walked back into Her room without another word. The powerful force caused my head to automatically turned to a side. My cheeks started to burn and a large red mark appeared. Only when my vision became blurry and my sleeves wet, I realized that I was actually crying. Crystal clear tears rolled rapidly down my stinging cheek.
I was not crying because She slapped me, after all, I deserved it. I was crying for all the things that I had took for granted and most importantly all of Her love that I had wasted away in the past years. I never even truly had a life till She came along and warmed me with Her love and care. She told me before that She had aborted a child once when She was a teenager and had always regretted Her action, thus explaining why She wanted to adopt an orphan like me. However, I always thought of myself as a replacement to Her dead child, thus causing me to act rebellious and craving for Her attention.
With all the determination in my heart and all the remaining shredded dignity left, I walked into Her room and for the first time, I truly looked at Her. Her face were wrinkly mainly because of all the worries that I caused and Her hair had grayed a lot since the first time I met Her. Fresh tears glistered in Her eyes and when She saw me, She hurried to wipe them away. With all my heart, I gave Her a tight hug and said, "I love you. Mom."
That was the first time I ever hugged my mother; that was also the very first time I called her 'Mom' and told Her that I loved Her.
Cheesy? Of course.
It was wonderful to have a mother.
My rebellious years were finally taking its toll on me when I failed the major exams in my school. With my mother's encouragement, I decided to retake them again, and this time, I surprisingly passed with excellent results. I even got a FULL scholarship to study in a foreign country! Woot!
Life is great with loved ones by our side! . . . *jumps around like a bunny* Well. what do you think??? I'm desperate to know! Is it okay? Quite okay? Very okay? .Good? Or that I shouldn't even THINK about posting th-this. thing!?? Please review or write me! ^_^ . . Cheerios~, S.Fantasia