I woke the next day still feeling tired. The room was already hot from the sun pounding down on the house as I sat up, brushing my sticky, curly hair off of my forehead and out of my eyes.
I had dreams that kept me restless, none like the ones that I have here in the after life. These were littles ones, that I didn't know were memories, or just fears playing themselves out to me. Either way, I didn't like them.
I often had a dream about my fathers death. I didn't know if it was true or not, or just how my mind incorporated it. In the dream, I would be on the floor in the front room. My mother and father sitting comfortably on the couch watching me play. After a few moments, there was a knock at the door, and my father stood up to answer it. In the dream, I know there is a man at the door, and I look up from my toys.
My father and the man talk for a few moments, and the stranger is often stealing glances to my mother. Piggish glances. There are several more men outside, ones I don't know. My mother seems anxious on the couch as the intruder invites my father outside to talk with the group. Says its business related. My father turns, tries to subside my mothers worry as he steps outside the door.
Cheesy, I know. But all the same, mother and I are waiting, until we hear a loud sound. It sounds almost like a house exploding, But more compact. After the sound, we hear an old car rumble to life and speed away. The men. Only the ones with decent money drove cars around here.
My mother jumps up from her place on the couch and runs. I watch her, and scramble up myself. In the dream world, I am wobbly and slow. Like a toddler, but I wasn't a toddler when my father died. I hear my mother weep in the dream, and hurry myself twords the screen door to peer out. When I finally reach the door, I see my mother leaned over my father, her arm wrapped around his back to heave him up. He isn't hardly moving, and blood coats his chest and abdomen. I watch, wide eyed for a terrified moment...
And the dream ends.
It always ends there. I know it ends there, because that is where my father is dead, but why in the dream am I so much younger. I was about 10 or 11 when my father died, not 4 or 5. Dreams are weird I guess.
I'd sat in my bed and pondered the dream for a few moments until I heard voices down stairs, in the kitchen. My mom would be up, but I heard a mans voice as well as I tried to listen. I couldn't hear well, so decided to sneak down, to see what the commotion was about. Slinking down the stairs silently, I knew the voice of the man. I hadn't a name, but he seemed very very familiar.
Peeking around the wall from the kitchen and the living room, I saw my mother standing, talking to a tall man who stood near the door. He was grinning, my mother looked to be on the verge of tears. There was a bouquet of weeping flowers on the table, already hurt from the heat. I figured he had brought them...
"C'mon, Dulce..We'll have a good time." The man said, smiling a wicked smile. I had seen him hassling my mom before while she was with her friends, but with her friends, they could always run him off. "I"m not ready to date yet, Malo. Not after..my husband." She mumbled, picking at her shirt.
He seemed to scowl at mention of my father. "And Rizado still needs looked after, I don't want to leave him. He's all I have." My mother said as he seemed to freeze for a moment. I pulled my head back, pressing my back against the wall. When she mentioned my name, I saw something on his face. I didn't like it. From the looks of it, he didn't like me either.
A few moments later, he left, and I pretended to drowsily come down the stairs to be greeted by my mother happily, as if nothing had happened. Malo...I would find this man. I had a gut feeling he was the one, or part of, the ones who killed my father. And I wouldn't let him get away with that.
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Random stuff here.
FMA fanfic
Rizado's fic
Gurren Lagann OC fic
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