#i full on sobbed when they got a special christmas from the community

[recsbylotte]

Please raise your kids the way David does.

[andrea-lyn]

Soulmate/Serendipity-ish idea: Starts with Malex as maybe 8/9 yrs old. Alex sees this cute curly haired boy who is mute, made fun of because he's in foster care, wears ratty clothing, etc. It's xmas and feels for him so he gives him one of his gifts or something. They connect even though Michael is mute. He moves away and they always wonder about one other thru the yrs. They are each other's ideal. Yrs later at xmas they run into one other and their connection is still cosmic and fall in love!!!

silent nightmichael/alex, pg

When Alex was younger, heand his mother had a special only-for-them tradition after Thanksgiving. Theholiday itself was always fraught with tension in the Manes household, seeingas she didn’t like to celebrate it, but Jesse insisted. Her imposed traditionhad been a deliberate defense against Jesse’s demands, and one that she’dshared with all the boys, but these days, it’s only Alex who wants to go.

His brothers have decided they don’t want to be a part of this. They’ve sidedwith Jesse, even if they haven’t admitted to it aloud. They bundle up and head to the group home in Roswell just as the decorationsare going up, because his mother has always been adamant about making surethose kids get just as much of a holiday as the Manes boys do. Alex has a giftin his hands and he’s allowed to decide who gets it, while his mother talks tothe volunteers and delivers the cookies that she’s made.This year, Alex is eight and he’s feeling grown up and mature, definitelymature enough that he doesn’t need his Mom holding his hand. Heading into thegroup home, he sees one of the boys scribbling in a notebook. His hoodie hasholes in it, and his hair looks matted and tangled. Instantly, Alex knows.That’s who deserves his present.“Can I give a gift to him?” he asks one of the volunteers, pointing to the boy.The woman looks somewhat wary. “You can,” she allows, “we’ve given him the nameMichael, but he doesn’t speak. He can understand you, but he won’t talk back.That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t try.”Alex nods with eager purpose as he heads over with the wrapped gift in hand.Awkwardly, he waves, and walks over to his side. He hears the lady behind himwhispering (too loudly) about the other children that Michael had come in with,but the Evans had adopted them. They’d left Michael behind.The youngest child in a family full of boys who worship their father, Alexunderstands what it’s like, to be left out. “Hi,” he greets him. “I’m Alex,” he says, gesturing to himself as he sitscross-legged across from the other boy. “Can you show me how to sign that?” heasks hopefully, and watches as the curly-haired boy begins to move his fingersthrough the letters.Alex watches him and mirrors each action. They go through it three times beforeAlex feels comfortable to do it on his own. Then he signs A-L-E-X, hello,before pointing to the wrapped present, holding it out for him.Michael points to himself, but the furrow of his brow tells Alex that it’s notas clear as he’d hoped it would be. Alex wonders if it’s the first present he’sever received and suddenly his own life seems a lot better. Maybe this is whyhis Mom brings him here. Still, Alex pushes the present a little moreaggressively.“For you,” he agrees. It’s not an exciting gift, as far as Alex is concerned. It’s just a knit scarfthat his Mom made, but when Michael leans over to stick the bow on Alex’s hairand then rips excitedly into the paper, Alex wonders if the gift inside mattersat all. Maybe it’s just that someone is thinking of him. When he opens the boxand pulls out the scarf, his eyes widen and he squeezes his hands tightly inthe fabric, burying his face in it. He doesn’t speak, but his breath startshitching with sobbing breaths that make Alex scramble over to hug his newfriend.“No, no, no, no,” Alex mumbles. “I’m sorry! No, it’s a gift! It’s for you!” Isit that bad? Maybe he should’ve convinced his Mom to buy a Game Boy orsomething better for them to give away.Michael shakes his head rapidly and makes a few gestures with his hands thatAlex doesn’t understand. He wildly looks over his shoulder for help, and one ofthe volunteers comes by so Michael can sign it again. 

“He says he loves it,” she tells Alex. “And says thank you, for the present.”Alex gives Michael a tentative smile and leans in to hug him again, a littletighter than before. He feels safe, like he could hug him for hours, and theappreciation for such a simple present reminds Alex that you don’t always needsomething with bells and whistles.Sometimes, a present from a friend is everything. “Happy Christmas, Michael,” Alex wishes when his Mom comes to collect him. “I’llcome visit again, okay?” He signs his name again, then points to himself, andthen to Michael. “I’ll come back.”Michael nods at him, his curls bouncing, and he hugs the scarf tightly to hischest. It’s the last image that Alex has of this beautiful, gracious, amazingboy before he goes back home to his life. Alex goes back to the group home a week later. This time, he brings somemittens to match the scarf along with one of his old CD players and some CD’s. Heleans on the desk and asks if he can see Michael, but the lady at the desklooks at him, then the gift, before saying absently, “He’s not here anymore. Hewas brought home by a foster parent, they moved to Santa Fe.” It’s a good thing, right? Michael’s found a family and right before theholidays, so Alex should be happy for him, but he can’t help feeling a bolt ofsorrow for the connection that he’d only just developed and has now alreadylost. That should be the last of it. It should be, only Alex can’t let go of the image in his head of Michael. Through his early teenaged years, he wonders what Michael is doing. He thinksabout the group home and he hopes that the family that took Michael in is agood one. He thinks about the way he’d taken Alex’s gift reverently, as ifnothing else had been more important. He thinks about the shy smile on his faceand his kindness as he’d taught Alex sign language, reaching over to help himwith his fingers.When Alex is fifteen, he starts wondering about Michael in different ways. He wonders what he looks like, now that they’ve grown up. Is he tall? Lanky?Are his curls still so soft-looking and would they be perfect to touch? Has hefound a family that will give him proper-fitting clothes? Has he got someonethat he’s dating that gives him gifts at Christmas?Then, at seventeen, Alex doesn’t have to wonder anymore.“Class, we’ve got a late transfer in,” his English teacher announces. There’sno one standing there, and most of the class isn’t paying attention (perusual). “I’d like everyone to be patient. He can understand you, and hear you,but he doesn’t speak, so we’ll be learning some basic ASL through the year, sowe can communicate and round ourselves out.”The tip of Alex’s pencil breaks in the middle of the doodling he’s doing. Hestares up at the front of the class, his heart pounding in his chest. “Please welcome Michael Guerin, everyone,” the teacher says, and gesturestowards the door. Alex stops breathing when he sees him walk through the door. If ever he’d doubtedthat they had a connection that day, this moment proves that he hadn’t beenmaking it up. Michael waves to the class, but in the midst of that, he lockseyes with Alex and stops in his tracks. It’s been years, but Alex wonders ifhe’s been recognized and if nine years doesn’t make that much of a difference.His heart starts to beat faster when Alex realizes the only empty desk in theroom is the one beside him. When Michael walks down the aisle to claim thedesk, Alex stares at him and realizes that he’s wearing Alex’s scarf,the one he’d given him years ago.Hi, signs Alex. I was hoping I’d see you again.In the intervening years, he’s picked up more than a thing or two. The hopethat he’d one day get to see Michael again had driven him on, but now is hischance to actually show that off. Michael looks impressed as he sits besidehim, reaching over to squeeze Alex’s fingers in the middle of signing, smirkingat him as he presses a finger to his lips.He’s shushing Alex for speaking ASL in class.Alex huffs out a fond laugh, shaking his head, and buries his head in hisnotebook, his fingers tapping anxiously and nervously, even though he has somuch more he wants to tell Michael and show him. When he glances over, he seesthe way Michael’s gaze lingers on Alex’s varnish-coated nails and Alex swallowsback his nerves.For all that he’s developed a crush on an idealized version of a boy he oncemet, it’s nothing compared to meeting him again and realizing thatthere’s absolutely something between them. Over the next few weeks, Alex makes sure that Michael always has somewhere toeat. They sit together under the bleachers sharing lunches and blankets,especially when Alex learns that Michael doesn’t have anywhere to live. Hissituation has only grown worse and he’s living in the back of the truck.He learns about the man who adopted him all those years ago and wishes thathe’d been more vocal about getting his parents to give Michael a home, but hecan’t go back in time. He can only move forward and do something about now.Nervously, Alex tells Michael about the shed. “You should stay there,” he says.“If I can give you a Christmas present, it’s that.” He signs the same toMichael, and gives a sheepish smile when Michael reaches over to fix Alex’sfingers when he signs the wrong word. Then, Michael doesn’t let go, only shiftsso that he’s holding Alex’s hand while they eat their sandwiches.Alex thinks the offer goes unnoticed, but two nights later he’s taking out thetrash when he sees a light on in the shed. He doesn’t go inside, but he peeksin and sees Michael on the futon, curled up and reading a book. Alex smiles tohimself and heads back inside, making sure that he brings some dinner around tothe shed.That’s how things continue as the days turn colder, getting closer to theholiday itself, and bringing with it a need for Alex to find the perfect gift. He thinks he has an idea for that, at least. He’s seen the way the other boyeyes his guitar, which means that he has one part of the gift done. The otheris easy, too, it just requires practice to make sure that his fingers are doingthe right thing so that when he signs his message, there’s no confusion.  On Christmas Eve, Alex sneaks into the shed wearing a Santa hat. The gift is already hiding behind the futon, wrapped, and he’s the rest of it.He knocks lightly and gives Michael an encouraging smile. His father doesn’tlike that they’re giving Michael the shed as a space to sleep in, but Flint hadbeen the one to point out that giving a mute homeless kid a roof over his headis pretty much the most basic human kindness, then had called their Mom to backhim up, which had shut Jesse up. It’s not like Michael is invited to dinner, but he’s also not about to getkicked out.Hi, he signs on his way in. “Merry Christmas, Michael.” He almostbounces as he settles in on the couch opposite Michael, sitting cross-leggedwith a box in his hand. Michael grins at him and signs back a hello, then, you didn’t have toget me anything.“I got part of this for you ages ago,” Alex admits, and passes him the box withthe mittens in it. He’s had to make new ones to match the scarf (seeing asMichael’s hands won’t fit the version he made a decade ago), but they stillmatch the scarf and they’re still hand-knit. Alex loves the feeling he gets ashe watches Michael open it. It's the same as it was a decade ago, that certainty deep down that his gift isloved and appreciated. The Walkman and CD’s had been given away ages ago, butAlex reaches behind the couch for the guitar with a bow on it, handing it overwith a raise of both of his brows.Déjà vu hits him hard when Michael signs, for me?That lump in his throat is hard to swallow past, but he nods as Michaeltakes it from him reverently. His fingers almost tremble as he slides them overthe strings, closing his eyes as he soaks up the few notes he plays. He seemsto know a few chords, and Alex sinks back onto the couch, watching him enjoyhis gifts for a few minutes. He could stop here, but he knows it’s important to keep going.The last time Alex gave Michael a gift, he’d been gone a week later. He can’trisk that again. Alex inhales deeply, “And there’s one more gift,” he says, reaching out to getMichael’s attention. Even though he knows that Michael can hear every word andunderstand it, it doesn’t matter. It means more that he’s learned this,in his mind.Maybe it’s too much, maybe it’s stupid, but Alex has known Michael Guerin sincehe was eight and he thinks he’s fallen in love with the idea of the man beforehe came back. Then, he’d returned and Alex fell even deeper in love, even if itwas with someone new. He knows, now, that he loves him. He knows that he’s inlove.It's why he feels comfortable signing it.“Michael,” Alex says, and fluidly signs what he’s been meaning to say formonths.I love you.Michael’s eyes widen and he replies with a, Really? “Really,” Alex promises. “I do. I love you, even if you’ve only been back awhile. It feels like longer. It feels like we just…”Connected, Michael signs, and Alex nods, knowing that it’s the exactword he would’ve used to describe it, too. It’s been years since they met andit had been an innocent meeting back then, but Alex has thought about him forso long and the man himself has exceeded every single dream and fantasy.How could he not feel like this?“I wanted you to know,” Alex rambles, not noticing how Michael is inching intowards him. “We missed out on so many holidays and I owe you so many othergifts, but…” He would keep going, but Michael grabs him by the cheeks and yankshim in for a kiss, stunning Alex into speechlessness. It takes him a few moments, but he melts into it, his eyes falling shut as hedrifts forward, tangling his fingers in Michael’s hair as he kisses him back,indulging in each tiny little sound he earns from Michael that he’s never heardbefore, but also the softness of his lips, the mild scratch of the fuzz he hasgrowing on his cheeks, and how warm he is.It's a better gift than Alex could have ever dreamt of asking for. Alex only leans back long enough to stare at Michael’s lips for another moment,then to his hands, which are moving. Alex, kiss me again, and he grins,because he’s spent the intervening years of their separation learning plenty ofASL just in case and there’s no mistaking those words.Kiss had been one of the first things that he’d learned that made himblush, but then he’d practiced it. With his hands, with his lips, with hisimagination.And now, with Michael Guerin, within a stone’s throw of Christmas, he intendsto keep practicing until his lips and his fingers ache. 

[cainfm]

『BILL SKARSGARD ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like CAIN ROMANOV is here for THEIR SENIOR year as a LITERATURE student. THEY are 25 years old & known to be RIGHTEOUS, TRUE, EVASIVE & GUARDED. They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 21. EST. SHE/THEY.

hdsjnf hello all ... it is james again ... here with another ... replacing noelle with cain bt it’s fine im fine. i’ve hit muse limit u wn’t hear frm me again ... so hit tht like button .. this isnt the best intro ive done bt mostly bc im just kinda like ... taking an old one n rewriting it as i go

TW CULTS, HEROIN USE / ADDICTION, DRUG ADDICTION / USE, ABUSE, PSYCHOLOGICAL / EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, PTSD, ANXIETY, TRAUMA.

aesthetics.

dangling limbs from tree branches, yellowed book pages, opened bottles of vintage wine, oversized sweaters and deep under eyes, bleached denim, worn leather gloves, cat hair against black cloth, fields of wheat, broken windows, descending staircases, tight-lipped smiles during public appearances, golden skies, light spilling from windows, stumbling over one’s own words, wire-framed beds, linens, wool scarves, making the wrong decisions; running, from others and yourself.

basic info.

full name: cain alexei romanov

nickname(s): n/a

b.o.d. - feb 19th, pisces :) happy birthday!

label(s): the connard (previously), the escapist, the facade, the fallen, the lothario (previously), the pariah, the phoenix, the puppeteer (previously), the sybarite, etc.

height: 6′4″ ... bruv.

hometown: stratford, connecticut

sexuality: bisexual uwu?

pinterest

stats

inspired by: i feel like i did ... have an inspiration for him but i don’t ... remember ... so ur not getting this one ... i might edit this later if smth pops into my head but. alas.

biography.

born to connecticut senator vaughn romanov and well known philanthropist adelaide romanov, they were born into a life of privilege in a very prominent new england family. they’re the eldest of five in a very nuclear, picture perfect, preppy chic family.

was brought up to be a class a, outstanding, perfect citizen. golden child to the all american family (willfully ignoring the fact that his father came from russian immigrants). cain listened, obeyed, never strayed outside the lines.

it was always intended for cain to take on after their father, to follow in his footsteps and become a politician too. there were several expectations for them, including joining model un, debate, deca, splitting time between soccer, track, basketball, lacrosse, becoming class president, and all while maintaining a valedictorian - worthy gpa.

even volunteered on the weekends at homeless shelters and food banks, proving to everybody in their community just how much of a gem they were, darling, perfect member of society.

always eager as a child, eager for approval, eager to impress and wow and dazzle authorities and adults alike - cain never really had a problem with any of it? always attended church on sundays and sometimes even wednesdays. participated in family dinners and christmas photoshoots and new years eve parties, easter egg hunts and family reunions.

born and raised in stratford, super close to lovell to the point where it’d always been expected that the romanov children would simply just go to radcliffe, as did their parents. their home in stratford is a big, fancy, seven bedroom eight bath house with two fireplaces and an expansive dining room. no pool, but a sturdy treehouse made by scratch.

however. their model citizen persona was just that, a persona - a charade. in the community and to his family, cain was a hardworking citizen who upheld standards, a leader. to classmates and peers, from elementary to college - cain was the devil themself.

arrogant, harrowing, an outright bully who tore down others when they felt like it, often unprovoked. they were the senator’s son, and a rich one at that - rules never applying because they simply never existed for them, the upmost privilege because of who their family happened to be and their place in society. tattlers of their behavior faced far more consequence than cain ever did, or would.

the sort of person who’d genuinely look down at someone if they had less than them - a narcissistic dickhead who cared about two or three people, tops, outside of their family. was never physically violent, nor did they raise their voice, but that’s what made them all the worse. made them all the scarier. spewed classist bullshit with ease and was addicted to the power high it gave them.

their only redeeming quality was their protectiveness over their family - never the best person, but family is family, and they thought it ought’d to be protected.

went into political science and business to please their father, mainly, every step they made - every path cain went down, every choice from the electives they took in high school to the brand of shoes they wore, was to build them into the ideal presidential candidate.

probably joined a frat though cain never participated in parties too often, known for keeping their composure even when others resorted to violence, or got too drunk, or caused any public commotion, because they didn’t like to leave a bad image for the press. did their drugs in private but left nothing to the imagination, publicly.

but alas. during college, two very important series of events occurred.

seeking thrills, searching for fun in all the wrong places - cain became a middle-man between dealers and producers. never dealt it, and never produced it, but simply transported it between one another; the less everybody knew about each other the better. it was always a very hushed operation. one that they could’ve profited much off of, though money was never the motive for them.

and then he met earl and may meyers, fellow volunteers at a thanksgiving food drive; an older couple immediately drawn to cain, reasonable considering just who their father was, and cain to them. they can’t tell you what about the couple was so appealing - the air around them was something else entirely; some called it unhinged, others would call it comforting. but they were kind folks, down to earth - very religious, and very warmhearted. liked his name, a lot - like in the bible, they’d say, and laugh, and pat his arm. they would say, on occasion, that they reminded them of their late son.

it’d happened towards the end of their junior year, a few years after they’d gotten involved in the drug business - and the meyers were volunteering more and more, always at the same places as cain. the same times, too, as if they were learning his schedule. in retrospect - it was odd, but cain’d never suspected a thing. they kept talking, and it became a genuine friendship - a secured vote in the next election.

it only took a few months into this that they’d begun to talk about religion more. the sin of wealth, and god choosing only a select few when he cleanses the earth. only the worthiest souls. they’d eventually get into the rhythm of telling cain they were special - that they could see they’d be selected, see it in their aura, in their dreams, god sending them messages, etc. most would find it to be absolutely ... bonkers.

but it was oddly appealing to cain - like, maybe i am being constrained by capitalism. maybe i am disappointing god - aren’t i a devoted follower? it felt nearly ridiculous, but it seeped into their mind. psychological manipulation, lasting over months and cain unsuspecting. as if they could ever be the one manipulated. but the meyers could ask cain to jump, and they’d simply say - how high?

soon enough, earl and may told them that they were moving. that there’d been so many more like them and that it was time to join them, time to prepare - to get ready for the rapture. cain held off at first, finishing up their first term of their senior year and their life planned right before their eyes. everything they’d ever worked for. their loyal companions and close-knit family, their side-business that’d only gotten stronger - a long-term girlfriend and the engagement ring that burnt in their pocket, made their heart beat twice as fast at the very thought. still the same as before, cruel without a cause, but still surrounded by those who loved them - who could find something in them to love.

but a month into their senior year, cain had a sudden change of heart. they were ready, now, if not now then never later. all because of a third event. a surprise. a shock. a betrayal.

they had discovered that they were not their father’s child - not at all, not even by an inch. they were someone else’s, completely. their mother had broken down and cracked, after a particularly straining christmas party. the discussion was long, and the heartbreak only grew. the anger only grew. the hurt - it grew. more and more, with each pitiful sob their mother gave them. it was a mistake - a one night stand in a fit of petty anger in the very early stages of their marriage. and only cain knew - like they had to carry this weight, now, that they never asked to have.

it was the kind of information that broke a person. cain idolized their parents, done everything they’d ever asked - ever expected, and beyond, let them mold them like putty into whatever form they wanted. only to find out that in the end, it didn’t matter. it never mattered, if cain wasn’t the blood child of vaughn. if their mother - a woman who hadn’t a bad bone in her body, was nothing but a cheat and a liar.

cain unraveled.

they spent the first week getting into an altercation with near anybody who looked at them wrong. physical, usually - though arguments arose frequently as well. with no explanation, only thrown fists - often drunk, or high, or sober too - it never mattered. they spent a night in county jail, it’d gotten so bad. it seemed to have no end.

right until new years, just after midnight, when cain had disappeared without a word. it was treated like a missing persons case, though there was no evidence of foul play or kidnapping, and not much could be done about it.

BEGINNING OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

the only people who knew of cain’s whereabouts were the meyers - because they had left together. a last minute decision that, if they had only waited a simple minute longer, would’ve never happened. a mistake they desperately wished they could take back. a mistake that led to another event - maybe the most important one of them all.

they’d gone only hours away from stratford, and lovell, the border between new york and connecticut and not as far as cain had initially thought, but deep, deep into the woods. that was where the cult’d been. they wore white linens and cotton, but never mixed. technology banned, prayers and daily chores. it was natural, at first. for the first three months, that was.

it could’ve been grand. it was peaceful, and mind-clearing, and they treated cain as if their birth was a sign from the angels. cain come to undo his past. a potential leader. but the longer they stayed, the more apparent it became that they weren’t all that the cult had wanted, so desperately, to believe. once they began to slip up, once members became displeased - that’s when the punishments began to occur.

sometimes once a week, but sometimes - and, later, much more so, multiple. the memories are suppressed, for the most part - but there are some things they simply can’t - the hands, they can’t forget. pulling, and tugging, and gripping - begging, asking him to repent, please, repent. their head held underwater, counting seconds until their vision’d eventually darken and go out, only to be pulled out gasping and sobbing. these memories stay - these memories repeat themselves, like a record stuck on repeat, days blurring into one another.

when they tried to fight back - they were subdued. heroin was the first step. little by little, everyday - enough to leave them in a high they wouldn’t remember; enough to burn a hole in their memory. and with these dimming memories, cain’d begin to sneak paper and pencil into their living arrangement, their room, writing everyday. wrote as much as they could remember from home - about their family, their life before it all - the people they loved. they couldn’t remember what they’d written, some days.

and when those notes were found, bound by thread taken from their own clothing to form a shabby book - that’d been the final straw. dragged, kicking and screaming - mind-numbingly high, into place. the twisted reenactment, retelling of cain’s demise. how exactly he’d gotten his scar. it would’ve been near perfect, if they had only stayed still and let them brand the mark into his forehead. but instead - they settled, eventually, for the chest. then - the left cain to die in the middle of the woods. in the middle of nowhere. no trails or campsites to follow, nothing at all. nothing but trees. nothing but his notes and the clothes on their back. they hadn’t even known what day it was - almost forgotten the year, too.

cain should’ve died there, but cain got up. and they ran. and ran. and ran. until they hit something, eventually. a road. it’d been pure luck that they’d found a car near immediately afterwards, whose driver wasn’t doubling as a murderer, who took them to the hospital - and who gave cain that chance to live. they were found on new years, a full cycle - a full year in the cult that’d changed their life.

END OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. STILL MENTIONS OF TRAUMA / MENTAL HEALTH / RECOVERY / ADDICTION BEYOND THIS POINT.

after being reunited with their family in the hospital - everything went by very fast. they couldn’t recognize their youngest sibling, but they also couldn’t remember why they’d left in the first place. couldn’t remember the name of their girlfriend, but the color of her hair and the way she smelled. they couldn’t give answers to their actions.

and after being put into therapy and recovery for their addiction - that’s when they find out that their father’s a presidential candidate, that they had been - that they used cain’s disappearance as a story for the press, one to garner votes. their return is national news, and their public opinion skyrockets. it’s supposed to be glorious, and a miracle, a blessing - but cain feels restrained. confined to the role they’d always been expected to play - expected to get up and continue with their life, as if nothing had happened. 

but nothing didn’t happen - everything happened, and cain’s different now, vastly so - no longer who they thought they were. they change their major to literature, abandon politics. they get some cats, start working at the library, and they put on some leather gloves - their method of staying away, of keeping a comfortable distance. they are different, now, and simply only wish to focus on their recovery.

personality.

they’re no longer who they once were. a year of trauma does things to a person - and with memory loss that weighs heavy on their mind, they are near completely different. they remember parts of their old personality, their old lifestyle - enough to know they want to be better. they’re convinced that it’s karma, what happened to them. for being who they were - acting the way they did. just ... a bunch of self-blame.

even with the massive ego, cain’s always been a quiet person. but now - now cain’s even quieter. kinder, if not a little sarcastic, like a relic from the past. they’re distant - but it’s one of fear, restrictive and tense - not one made out of their own comfort. 

smokes medical marijuana but rarely drinks ... as if that’d make a difference. in an effort to beat their heroin addiction, they’ve turned to prescriptions instead.

like i mentioned ... cain has four cats. it’s basically their entire personality. two of them were from before their disappearance, but two are new to their little (school-approved) family. there is: frank (big chungus when yelled. white and gray), brock (orange. fluffy. stoic. devours food), shoelace (black furred, missing an eye and half an ear), and crunchwrap supreme (crunch for short. calico with bent ears). yes, they have photos of their cats in their wallet.

cain’s memory is fucked - like, really fucked. they forget a lot of things. short term, long term. it’s a constant struggle. they managed to keep their notes from the cult, so those help - but not always. they forget dates and names and faces and events. sometimes they wake up and don’t know where they are. they don’t sleep often, anyways. with the trauma came night terrors, and in an attempt to avoid them they don’t ... sleep often. only a few hours a night if they can withstand it, because it’s frankly terrible.

they suffer from severe touch aversion. skin contact with anybody, of any sort, is enough to send cain into a full-blown panic attack. they were leather gloves more often than not in an attempt to combat this disadvantage, without hindering their dexterity too much. even with clothes, they’re not the biggest fan of physical contact. it won’t send him into a panic attack, but they visibly flinch away. they’re very clear from the get-go, if someone is too close to them, that they don’t like physical contact.

dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week. their therapist recommended that they keep writing their notes, after reviewing them himself, so cain does. they keep an entire journal where they write, and sketch a little, because it helps them cope and de-stress. it means a lot to them, actually.

also dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week - therapist recommended he kept writing after looking at his notes - so he does, keeps an entire journal where they write and like … sketch a little, because it helps them cope. means more to them than it would seem. but, unfortunately, part of their coping involves getting far too involved in their own mini-investigation of the cult they’d been part of. when the cult was tracked back to where cain’d been brought, they were already gone - and cain wants to know where. wants to know how to find them. wants justice, vengeance. wants nobody else to get hurt from them.

pretty blunt ... won’t go out of their way to announce that hey, they were part of a cult, and that’s why they’re gone and that’s why that’s the way they are now - but they also won’t lie about it, if the topic comes up in conversation. they don’t like delusions, don’t like secrets, nor do they like unnecessary attention.

being at radcliffe makes cain anxious because - well, they’re surrounded by people they’ve been doing wrong by for years now and they can’t even remember which ones. who, what, when, why - distant memories, if they’re even there at all. is constantly trying to figure out how to redeem themselves. they’d leave, if it hadn’t been their parents’ assistance that they stay there. so that someone always has an eye on them. 

but like ...they screwed over a lot of people when they left. from plugs / customers to their ex-girlfriend, who they are, undeniably, still in love with (you can’t forget that feeling) - to their friends. like. everybody, pretty much KBJNSDFKSNLD

is often pretty high ... i’d say it’s just the medical weed but. alas :/ take a guess :/

hates cars & swimming & crowds. hates feeling trapped and will avoid it whenever possible. doesn’t want to be seen as unsociable, but it’s difficult. 

they ... have a tendency to run away when they’re overwhelmed. likes to climb trees because they’re tall enough to. there’s a tree outside of their window that they climb out to frequently, even though it’s like a ~safety hazard~ or whatever. just really likes to hide out. 

used to be in perkins when they last attended radcliffe, but they gave their spot to someone else and that was like - 100% fine w/ cain tbh. lives alone in moris now.

feels the need to redeem themself ... to like, everybody. like, they want to avoid conflict and be a better person, but it’s hard, and they don’t necessarily like confrontation either - and not everybody believes that cain’s changed. it wouldn’t be surprising if people were suspicious of cain, for whatever reason, because they don’t ... really have the best track record anymore.

developed a stutter as one of the results from their trauma. their voice is damaged from screaming and they’re self-conscious about it, but they’re working on it because there’s more important things to worry about. in general, cain looks ... gaunt, too thin, and generally sickly.

repeating senior year ... fr obvious reasons ... and probably won’t graduate anytime soon because they’ve changed their major so late.

can still hold a conversation & they’re not really afraid of socialization. it just takes a toll on them. they’re pretty lowkey, as a person. soft, sorta. quiet but they won’t be an asshole (on purpose). they like people! just. very low energy.

so like ... tldr ... not an asshole anymore ... dealing with a lot of trauma ... trying to be a good person ... yes ...

wanted connections.

locals... people they’ve grown up with their entire life. people they’ve wronged, people who idolized him, envied him, despised him, etc. 

enemies... would love for a bunch of these just. a hoard of people who fucking hate cain. because it fits the bill. they could’ve bullied them, or wronged them, whatever. anything works. let’s make it happen.

exes... that they’ve dumped... old hookups, ex-friends, people they got into an argument with or fought before they disappeared last year...

ex girlfriend... that connection wld b rly neat!! i have it up as a wc rn but we can take that down ... will be holding intense american idol - esque auditions. remember that cain ws a fckn classist pig and probably only dated people who were also rich with influential families. (unless u present a very good case to me ... then maybe ... perhaps ...)

family friends... family rivals... people he knows mostly thru their family.

redeemable... people they’re trying to redeem themself to... trying to prove their worth, and that they’re a better person now, etc. etc.

old clients... :) angry clients. that they left in the dust.

perkins... people he knew from perkins ... old pals or maybe enemies idk he was pretty insufferable ... people he used to go to fancy parties with sometimes ...

angery... people so so so so fucking pissed at cain, for whatever reason.

reconciliation... reconnecting... used to be friends and we can be friends again :) and i will be better this time! i’m a slut for slowburns, especially slowburn friendships ... enemies to friends ... now THAT is sexy.

victims... of bullying ... :/ of their bullying specifically.

sof...t... wholesome content ... nothing but soft, understanding friendships ... or developing friendships ... make them feel welcomed again... forgive them...

an..g.st... friends to enemies. enemies to bigger enemies. miscommunication. betrayal. whatever u want.

no hookups!!! ... please only previous encounters. nothing in the present. because it just wldn’t make sense.

unless... eyes emoji. H DSJLFJKS just kidding! i’d accept MAYBE some kind of sexual tension but like ... the sort that hurts, because it just Cannot Happen (i will not let it happen). or maybe a fun, casual sexting thing but like. nothing physical. pleasthe.

fuck politics!... mayhaps, they hate mr. romanov and his politics or smth. he’s probably corrupt in some way, so! go at it!

aggression... i feel like a lot of the conversations between cain n other ppl start out rly ... angry bc theyre Mad. at them.

ok it’s bed time please plot with me. 

[thewritingstar]

Ah well were all at home better ask all 200 questions g, don't really know much about u

200 QUESTIONS???? ALRIGHT HERE YA GO. 

hope you enjoy me spending an hour answering all of these :) 

200: My crush’s name is: N/A 199: I was born in: 2000 198: I am really: nice 197: My cellphone company is: idk 196: My eye color is: Hazel, can turn dark brown or light green sometimes 195: My shoe size is: 8 194: My ring size is: 7 I think 193: My height is: 5′3 192: I am allergic to: penicillin  191: My 1st car was: Toyota  190: My 1st job was: Baskin Robbins  189: Last book you read: Suicide Notes (highly recommend)  188: My bed is: galaxy bedding and is currently on the floor in my bed fram cause my friends broke it... 187: My pet: Black cockapoo and a white cockapoo named Abby and Molly 186: My best friend: is a hoe 185: My favorite shampoo is: herbal essence color me happy  184: Xbox or ps3: I perfer Wii, Wii U or Nintendo switch  183: Piggy banks are: cute, Mine is a ducktales cup  182: In my pockets: nothing rn 181: On my calendar: nothing rn 180: Marriage is: a good thing but not a necessity for a happy life 179: Spongebob can: get it  178: My mom: is a queen  177: The last three songs I bought were? i only buy cds for my car so: Lover, Hozier, Blink 182 176: Last YouTube video watched: The Office deleted scenes 175: How many cousins do you have? 8 but I only see four of them and two of them are adults with kids so i consider them more of aunt and uncle figures 174: Do you have any siblings? One older sister  173: Are your parents divorced? Nope  172: Are you taller than your mom? Nope 171: Do you play an instrument? Nope 170: What did you do yesterday? Sat on ass and watched youtube 

[ I Believe In ] 169: Love at first sight: ye why not 168: Luck: yes  167: Fate: yes 166: Yourself: kinda 165: Aliens: yes 164: Heaven: mmmm yes i guess 163: Hell: yes 162: God: uhhhhh yes and no, kinda indifferent 161: Horoscopes: yep 160: Soul mates: yesss 159: Ghosts: ye 158: Gay Marriage: WHO THE FUCK DOESNT BELIEVE IN THISS?? ITS REAL  157: War: think it does more harm than good 156: Orbs: ye 155: Magic: ye i wanna be a wizard 

[ This or That ] 154: Hugs or Kisses: hugs 153: Drunk or High: drunk, i dont do drugs and i dont drink yet but ill prob get drunk  152: Phone or Online: oo i use both but Online i guess 151: Red heads or Black haired: Black hair 150: Blondes or Brunettes: Brunettes 149: Hot or cold: HOT 148: Summer or winter: Summer 147: Autumn or Spring: Both 146: Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla  145: Night or Day: Day 144: Oranges or Apples: Oranges 143: Curly or Straight hair: I have straight hair but curly hair is also beautiful 142: McDonalds or Burger King: BURGER KING..I HATE MCDONALDS 141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: MILK 140: Mac or PC: Pc 139: Flip flops or high heals:...High heels prob 138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: SWEET AND POOR, IM ALREADY UGLY 137: Coke or Pepsi: NEITHER 136: Hillary or Obama: obama  135: Burried or cremated: cremated 134: Singing or Dancing: love both but maybe dancing rn 133: Coach or Chanel: Coach  132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: idk who they are 131: Small town or Big city: Big city, i grew up in a small town 130: Wal-Mart or Target: TARGET 129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Adam 128: Manicure or Pedicure: Mani 127: East Coast or West Coast: West Coast 126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas  125: Chocolate or Flowers: Chocolate 124: Disney or Six Flags: DISNEY  123: Yankees or Red Sox: eww sports 

[ Here’s What I Think About ] 122: War:....does more harm than good  121: George Bush:....dont know enough to say but im pretty sure he was an awful human  120: Gay Marriage: It should just be called marriage, just because you’re gay doesnt make it any less or any more, its equal to other marriages  119: The presidential election: 118: Abortion: Pro Choice, no one has the right to tell someone what to do with their body 117: MySpace: i never used it cause i was too young but i bet it was lit 116: Reality TV: its funny af  115: Parents: are nice if they care about their child but if they are abusive or horrible then they dont deserve respect  114: Back stabbers: should be stabbed  113: Ebay: its nice  112: Facebook: full of idiots and boomers  111: Work: a scam  110: My Neighbors: they fine 109: Gas Prices: A SCAM 108: Designer Clothes: a nice but really $200 for socks, no mama 107: College: SHOULD BE FREE 106: Sports: fun but no one needs to make that much money for throwing a ball 105: My family: i like them 104: The future: is wild and idk at this point 

[ Last time I ] 103: Hugged someone: my mom like a few days ago 102: Last time you ate: at 11 today! 101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile:  100: Cried in front of someone: my mom after i yelled at her 99: Went to a movie theater: i saw Onward when we were allowed outside 98: Took a vacation: went to disneyland last October  97: Swam in a pool: like almost two years sadly  96: Changed a diaper: when i was like 8  95: Got my nails done: never got them done because my mom wouldnt take me cause i was a ‘tom boy’  94: Went to a wedding: never  93: Broke a bone: when i was three, my big toe 92: Got a piercing: my nose in January  91: Broke the law: i guess i sped the other day  90: Texted: literally as im doing this 

[ MISC ] 89: Who makes you laugh the most: my friend 88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: the silence of being alone 87: The last movie I saw: Princess and the Frog 86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: Moving for college 85: The thing im not looking forward to:  84: People call me: Deanna (real name), Dean, Star (what yall call me) ton of others 83: The most difficult thing to do is: idk  82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: never 81: My zodiac sign is: Aries 80: The first person i talked to today was:  79: First time you had a crush: Ive had  78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: my best friends 77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: my friends over ft  76: Right now I am talking to: no one 75: What are you going to do when you grow up: hopefully being an animator  74: I have/will get a job: at disney  73: Tomorrow: doing nothing 72: Today: doing nothing  71: Next Summer: hopefully not on quarantine  70: Next Weekend: nothing special  69: I have these pets: 2 doggos 68: The worst sound in the world: ICE SCRAPING OR MOUTH BREATHING 67: The person that makes me cry the most is:  66: People that make you happy: my friends 65: Last time I cried: few days ago  64: My friends are: my world 63: My computer is: a Dell  62: My School: is a community college  61: My Car: it goes 60: I lose all respect for people who: are bigots, dehumanize people, republicans  59: The movie I cried at was: Onward had me sobbing  58: Your hair color is: Brown rn 57: TV shows you watch: theres too many 56: Favorite web site: tumblr or youtube 55: Your dream vacation: every disney park  54: The worst pain I was ever in was: i think when i cut my finger or when i went to the hospital for my chest  53: How do you like your steak cooked: Medium rare  52: My room is: disney themed and my safe zone 51: My favorite celebrity is: Tara Strong  50: Where would you like to be: Disneyland 49: Do you want children: ehh maybe  48: Ever been in love: nope 47: Who’s your best friend: my neighbor that ive known since i was 4 46: More guy friends or girl friends: more girl 45: One thing that makes you feel great is: making cake  44: One person that you wish you could see right now: my cousin 43: Do you have a 5 year plan: not really  42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: ye 41: Have you pre-named your children: kinda 40: Last person I got mad at: my mom 39: I would like to move to: La 38: I wish I was a professional: animator

[ My Favorites ] 37: Candy: Kitkat 36: Vehicle: Cars 35: President: 34: State visited: California, Nevada, Texas, Hawaii,  33: Cellphone provider: 32: Athlete: n/a 31: Actor: Colin O'Donoghue 30: Actress: Lana Parrilla 29: Singer: Joe Jonas, Taylor Swift  28: Band: Big Time Rush 27: Clothing store: Hot topic, Ross,  26: Grocery store: Safeway  25: TV show: Once Upon A Time or PPG  24: Movie: Princess and the Frog and Ratatouille  23: Website: tumblr  22: Animal: elephant  21: Theme park: disneyland  20: Holiday: Halloween  19: Sport to watch: hockey  18: Sport to play:..i do not play  17: Magazine: i dont read mags  16: Book: Kingdom Keepers  15: Day of the week: Friday  14: Beach: one i went to in Hawaii  13: Concert attended: Jonas Brothers  12: Thing to cook: chowmein and strawberry shortcake  11: Food: Chowmein  10: Restaurant: my fav Chinese restaurant  9: Radio station: I don’t listen to the radio  8: Yankee candle scent: Vanilla  7: Perfume: Vanilla  6: Flower: Rose or Larkspur  5: Color: Black or blue  4: Talk show host: umm i dont watch many but i guess Jimmy Fallon  3: Comedian: Jaboukie Young-White or John Mulaney  2: Dog breed: Pomeranian  1: Did you answer all these truthfully? ye 

[artificialqueens]

Half a Life (Rajila)  - Lyonne-dlm & Saiphl

Well, this is like a spin off from the Soulmate AU we started back in November with the Trixyawrimo, some of the readers asked for the backstory to Raja and Nila, and this is the outcome, 

We hope you enjoy the reading.

Half a Life

Raja just turned fifteen when her life changed 180°. She was beautiful, funny and everybody loved her, the perfect girl that every mother had only dreamt about, and an incredibly talented artist too. She met Gary when they were in their first year in Junior High, it was love at first sight.

Gary took her to the movies and for a milkshake the night he properly asked her to be his girlfriend; none of them really caring about the time when they first have a glance of their soulmates. They had figured their future together. They’ll planned to finish the high school first of their classes, being his the higher notes, he was going to be the valedictorian, they’ll go to an Ivy League college. She was going to get a degree in visual arts and he was going to be not just a doctor, he was going to be the most prestigious cardiologist all over the US Territory.

He’ll pursue his specialty while Raja started to make a name for herself in the art world, and when the time comes, they’ll become Mr. and Mrs. Kho. Future was nothing but perfect for them.

Maharani Amrull, Raja’s mother, was happy to see her little girl glowing with the expectation of the life she had planned, she was happy to see her baby so in love. Still she feared the day when reality would hit them both. She knew the time of them dreaming of their soulmates was just around the corner, and she wanted to give a reality check with her daughter, just to make sure she won’t get devastated if she found out Gary wasn’t meant to be her person.

“Raja, baby, can we talk?“, she asked, even after eighteen years living in New York her indonesian accent strong.

The girl put down her backpack and looked straight at her mother “sure mani, what happened?” Raja sat besides her mother in the dining room, still smiling after being kissed by Gary in the front door back from the school.

“Gary brought you home, right?”, Maharani asked, doing her best to disguise her worries while the dreamy smile in her daughter’s face widened. “Rajie, I hate to be the one bringing this up, but…” she sighed, preparing herself for the outcome of that conversation.

Raja’s smile faded as soon as it was spreading, she knew her mother like the back of her hand, and knew immediately what she was about to talk. “Mom, please… no, don’t do this, I’m sure I’ll dream of Gary, and he’ll dream of me, we’re meant to be together”, she said, matter of factly.

“Don’t do this please baby, what if it doesn’t happen? I mean, I know you love that boy, and I’d be crazy if I wouldn’t , but baby the possibility is there and I just want to make sure you don’t feel disappointed if someone else is meant to be with you.“ The woman’s face fell when she saw the tears sliding her daughter’s beautiful face.

“Who knows mom? It might be his voice or his face what I get when the time comes?” she said in a whisper, feeling her heart already shattered with the mere possibility. “It happened to you and dad, mom… you were with who you were meant to be” she retaliated, part unconvinced, part hopeful. “I really hope it’s him.”

Maharani reached to take her daughter’s hand in hers. “Dad and I were lucky baby, but you know it rarely happens, most of the people spend their late teens and all their twenties finding their one.” Unable to hold it back anymore, Raja started crying.

A couple of weeks later, when Raja was waiting for Gary to arrive to the school on his birthday, she had an odd feeling that something was wrong, but she couldn’t guess what it was, until he showed up at school. All lowered shoulders and looking to the floor, he stood in front of Raja, stuttering unintelligible words, that confirmed her worst fears: Gary got the face of a girl, a girl that was not her. “I’m sorry Raj… I… I really wanted for it to be you, but I guess… I guess this is where it ends.”

Gary hugged her protectively, while Raja melted on his arms for the last time, he caressed her hair while she was sobbing “You’ll always have a special place in my heart Rajie, you’ll always be my first love.” Kissing her temple, he added, “He will be one lucky bastard… he’s getting the jackpot with you.” They parted ways with sad smiles, and Raja secluded herself, losing track of time until June 14th, when she woke up in the middle of the night, all drenched in cold sweat after hearing a loud laugh and a high pitched voice, one that even if it was still changing, was clearly a female voice.

In clear denial, Raja spent the following three years begging her mother to take her to a therapist. She thought she was going insane, first of all, there wasn’t a slight chance for it to be her soulmate’s voice… she sounded so young. Second and most important, she couldn’t be soulmates with a girl, because, she was straight… wasn’t she? The fact that she spent some extra time appreciatively looking to some of her classmates on the dressing rooms for gym class meant nothing, she couldn’t be gay.

She gave up asking for professional support after her brother Sutan came back home after a year volunteering in Africa, just to introduce to the family his brand new boyfriend and soulmate David, a Russian boy with avid brown eyes and quick witted mind. The night she turned nineteen, she decided to seriously start looking for her soulmate whose voice was now clearer and still high pitched.

====

Time passed faster than she expected, and before she could notice it, she graduated from Columbia University. By that time, she’d already met most of the lesbian girls in the campus and also from nearby cities, none of them were the owner of the high pitched voice that still drove her insane every night.

At twenty two, she moved to Chicago, her first big job as a manager assistant in an indie art gallery, and she got used quickly to the lifestyle in a new city. Charming and easy going as she was, she quickly became friends with a Russian girl named Sasha, who shared the same passion for visuals that she has, and also with a former new yorker named Aja.

Raja found in her job a way to escape from her thoughts. She had the idea that once she accepted and embraced the fact she had a female soulmate, will make easier the task to find her, and when it didn’t happen, she just tied herself to the only thing giving her some kind of steadiness.

“What you need is getting laid Raja, seriously, you can’t just live going from home to the gallery and then back”, Aja said, complaining for the zillionth time when her friend refused to go out. “Staying secluded won’t make a progress on your source, girl” the annoyance in the other girl’s voice bitter as bile.

Sasha laughed when she heard Raja hiss for the same zillionth time to Aja. “I’m perfectly ok, all I need is my job, and if it’s bound to happen, she will appear.” The blonde russian cackled to that affirmation. “Don’t look at me like that Aja, and you shut up Sasha, I’m done looking, I’m done failing every single time.” Raja sighed. “I’ve been looking for her, now’s her time to look for me!”

“You’re so stubborn Raja, I can’t talk to you anymore!” Aja said exasperated, “and I’m serious when I say I won’t take another snap from you miss thing, I’m done with your attitude.”

Raja looked at Aja, a hurt expression in her face making the other regret her words. Raja was about to snap back when Sasha stood between them. “I have a solution and you can’t say no Raja, and I bet Aja is actually up to it.” Both girls looked at Sasha, curiosity creeping on their faces. “We’re going on vacation, five days, five stars resort in Hawaii all inclusive.” Aja clapped enthusiastically and Raja was about to object when Sasha said “already paid, Mom and Dad owed me two birthday and three christmas gifts, so they immediately said yes, even when I included my best friends in the package.”

“Well… you can count me in Sasha, I haven’t had vacation since… forever” she said, a shy smile spreading through her lips. “But…” Sasha arched a brow and Aja looked at her with a face that said ‘I’ll kill you with your buts and all’.

“But?” both girls asked in unison, expectantly looking to the older one.

“But I think we should get a signed paper from Aja’s mother, otherwise we’ll be charged with minor molesting and kidnap accusations.” Sasha fell on a chair, barely breathing with laugh, and Aja looked viciously at Raja.

“At least I won’t need heart medication and medical authorizations to travel, at your old age, you need to get a full check up before considering leaving this state!” Sasha fell from her chair and her friends got her up, the three of them laughing really hard.

=====

A couple of weeks after that, the three girls arrived to a very luxurious resort, the three rooms one side to the other and communicated by a discreet door. Aja jumped on the bed face down, practically motorboating on the soft pillows. “This is life, I swear we’re on paradise bitches!” she yelled, while Sasha laughed and Raja rolled her eyes.

“Get your ass off the bed bitch, there’s a sunny day out there, and you’re wasting it!”, Raja said, mocking the younger girl, who jump out the bed sticking her tongue out.

Sasha threw a towel to her friend’s face and then turned to her own room “ten minutes and I’ll drag you to the beach however you are, ladies”, she said before closing the door behind her; Raja did the same with her door to Aja’s room and walked to the balcony to feel the breeze.

Raja had a weird feeling about the whole trip thing, something was unsettling her, but she didn’t know what it was, and it was worse when the words of her brother started sounding like a bee swarm on her head: ‘she will come Rajie, just give it a chance, have faith on you two finding each other’. Of course Sutan would be an optimist, he embraced the whole thing of his now husband’s face in his dreams from the very beginning, of course he was a believer, especially now that he was happily married to his soulmate. He hadn’t lost a whole life plan, he hadn’t lost a first love, and of course he never had that high pitched voice on his head every night, making him think he had lost his mind.

She lit a cigarette, her head starting to ache and suddenly lost all the vacation mood she forced into her head the days before the trip. “I’m not losing hope Sutan, I’ve just lost the will to find her”, she whispered before sighing deeply and going to change her clothes after finishing her smoke.

Truth to her word, Sasha went to get her friends to the beach and they all went down to enjoy the sunny place. Aja was at the shore flirting with some girl she met there and Sasha was about to open her book when she realized how quiet Raja has been. “A penny for your thoughts girl”, she said, while laying her hand on the older girl’s forearm. “Let me guess, you’re nagging again on the voice in your head, right?”  

Raja sighed once again, and took off her sunglasses to look at her friend. “Mostly at my brother’s words Sasha… I’m feeling kinda weird,” Sasha leant to hug Raja, understanding quite well how she felt, at last, how lost she was right after she heard Shea’s voice for the first time. “I think I’ll take a walk under the sun, the sea will wash this off my head”. Sasha nodded to Raja, and watched her friend going barefoot on the sand under her sunhat.

Aja saw Raja walking away on the shore and frowned a bit worried, but after six months of knowing her, she was sure that bothering her was the dumbest idea; by her side, a cute girl tugged her arm, taking her to her group of friends. Carmen, as she introduced herself, took Aja to a group of girls, who were dancing on the beach to the music of a portable buffer, “Gals! this is Aja. I’ve just met her on the shore”, the girls on the group greeted her with shining smiles and aired kisses. “These are Morgan, her girl -and our official DJ- Kylie, but we call her Sonique, Gabby, or as we call her Delta and that noisy bitch there is Manila.”

A couple of hours after that, Aja went back to Sasha, exactly at the same time Raja was coming back. “Just in time! I’m starving, let’s get some food”, Aja said, pulling Sasha from the chair she was laying over. “Well, while you’ve been awfully boring, I met some gals at the beach.”

“You’re not one wasting time, aren’t you?” Raja said, mocking her, getting an annoyed face as a response.

“Excuse if I want to live before finding my forever handcuff” Aja answered. “Also I got us a party tonight.” With a shit eating grin she continued “you don’t have to thank me ladies, you both know I’d do anything to get our grinch out of the cave.” Raja hissed as an answer and before she could refuse, Sasha interjected.

“That sounds great, we came here to have fun,and Aja since i am responsible for you and i don’t want Doña Rivera killing me, no sex for you “ Raja bursted laughing at Sasha’s words, while Aja pouted her lower lip in protest. “Tell us, what are we going to celebrate? I suppose you got all the details”, asked Sasha, still getting a vicious glare from the youngest girl.

“A double bachelorette, Morgan and Sonique are tying the knot in a couple of weeks, that’s why they are here” Aja answered, suddenly feeling less enthusiastic with the idea.

Raja put a reassuring hand on Aja’s shoulder “come on girl, a celibe trip won’t kill you”, she fake coughed holding her laugh “also, Sasha’s right, your mom would kill us if we don’t take proper care of you.”

Aja threw a raspberry to her friends “you know what? you play the worst set of best friends in world’s history.” Taking her beach bag from the empty chair besides Sasha, she looked one more time at them, outrage clear in her face. “And just for the record, that you came to paradise to play the faithful girlfriend, and Raja playing the old wise matron is not a reason for you to betray me… still, I we’re going to the party, and I’ll get laid if I want.”

The three of them walked to the restaurant listening to Aja’s rant and offering her to misbehave just a little if she promised to be careful and responsible.

====

Later that night, Aja was hurrying her friends “come on bitches, you can’t be serious on taking more than an hour to get ready! we’re gonna miss half the party because you’re slow.” Sasha soon joined Aja in the protests, while Raja was still deciding on which dress to wear.

“Raja, you look great with the white one, now hurry before Aja suffer an anxiety attack, come on.” The tall girl looked at them rising her hands in surrender, and taking her clutch signaling she was ready. The three of them walked out to the party at a club nearby the hotel.

At the door, Aja gave their names to the guard and he let them in, the place a swirl of psychedelic colors and trance music, the beat going deep into Raja’s core with the rhythm of her heartbeat. Unconsciously, Aja was moving to the music, stretching her neck looking for the group of girls she met at the beach, soon she found Carmen, who greeted her with a hug and air kisses to her friends. Aja introduced Sasha and Raja to the girls, all of them there, except Manila and Gabby, who went to the bar to get a round of shots for the group.

Sasha soon engaged in a conversation with the brides to be, talking about how they found each other and sharing ideas and plans. Aja dragged Raja to the dance floor before she started with her usual grumpiness. “Oh no miss thing, you’re not going to ruin the mood, you’re here to have fun and relax, and if it means that I have to drag you to dance the whole night, I will”, Aja said to Raja, who gently smiled to the girl in front of her. She knew Aja was doing her best to cheer her up, but she was still unsettled and somehow, expectant.

“Thanks baby, I mean it… it’s just, I’m not feeling like myself”, Raja admitted awkwardly, being vulnerable wasn’t her strongest suit. “I’ll give this a try, but I can’t promise to stay the whole night”. Being that more than she got from Raja in months, Aja nodded, secretly enjoying her little victory.

When they went back to the group, the night was at its highest point, all of them were toasting to Morgan and Kylie and their new life together. The music so loud making really hard to keep a conversation. Raja felt a hand in her shoulder, and she turned lightly her head to the side, barely listening to the girl who was inviting her to the dance floor, Raja nodded reluctantly and followed the girl with the stunning body wrapped in a yellow dress, that the black neon lights made so easy to follow, and the only thing she could see clearly in the dark, was the streak of bleach blonde hair moving in a sea of wavy black.

A girl that couldn’t be older than twenty, her lips painted in a black that shone under the neon lights. There was something about her that made Raja feel a little relaxed, letting herself flow with the moment. She half heard her name was Manila, and wasn’t sure if she was able to hear her telling her own name. Both of them were slightly drunk, and Manila turned to dance leaning her back on Raja’s chest.

Not really thinking about it, Raja laid temptatively her hands on the girl’s hips, and she started moving even more provocative. It wasn’t much more than the butterfly’s touch on her skin, but Raja felt electrified, something she had never felt, and that was the moment she decided to just feel her dance partner closeness, and the fainting scent of her citric perfume. Forgetting her longing she dared to turn the girl in her arms, and before she could really sink on what was happening, Manila kissed her; it was brief and sloppy but deeply intense. Tracing the line of her jaw, Raja talked to her ear, making sure she can listen to her “let’s get out of here.”

Raja took the lead, pulling her by the firm grip of their hands, they left the place only stopping for a second to get their clutches and going back to the hotel running under the night sky, barefoot on the sand. Manila laughed delighted, and Raja’s heart skipped a beat. That laugh was so familiar but seemed distant, she shook her head and kept running, making sure they reached the sun chairs around the pool. She let herself fall in one of those, pulling Manila to her lap, looking straight at her face. Manila laughed once more, this time nervously and then leaned to reach Raja’s lips.

They made out passionately  for what seemed an eternity, then gasping for air, Raja broke the kiss, caressing with her thumb Manila’s cheekbone. “It can’t be her”, she thought, even though her heart was madly speeding in her chest, “she should’ve recognized me by now… it’s not her.” A little part of Raja’s shaking faith was breaking, when the girl in her lap said. “Oh my god, I can’t see shit, but those idiots didn’t gave me time to put on my contacts.”

Raja froze, recognizing the voice of her dreams at all, and also realizing that she hasn’t been recognized because of a stupid technicality, meant she wasn’t able to properly see.  Manila pulled a pair of glasses out of her clutch, rising her head to finally look at Raja. “I hope you don’t mind my… OH MY GOD!”

Manila opened her eyes even wider, looking finally at every single detail of Raja’s features. “I… I can’t believe this, I’ve been flirting with my soulmate all night long and I didn’t figured out!”

“What?!” Raja said, still in disbelief, looking at Manila’s face, that was fastly going from amusement to hurt.

“I’ve been dreaming of your face for five years and that’s all you have to say?“ Raja’s mouth fell agape, that was exactly the same phrase she heard the first time. The girl looked at her, expecting for something to happen, strongly tempted to slap her face to make her talk, and cursing her eyes for the tears she felt coming.

“I… I um ahhh, I don’t know what to say, is just so unexpected”, the older girl said, feeling happy, mad and incredibly stupid at the same time. “You… can’t… oh my god, this was a huge mistake”

Manila covered her mouth, fighting tears already. She got off from Raja’s lap and starting to run by the edge of the pool, she needed to fly, she wouldn’t let her see crying, not when she clearly didn’t want her.

Confused, Raja looked at her, snapping back when she saw Manila almost sliding to the pool “Oh my god! you’re so easily distracted!”, she reaches for the beautiful girl in the yellow dress  just in time to fall with her into the water.

“Leave me alone!” Manila yelled, pushing Raja away.

Raja sighed, frustrated.“No… I’m not leaving you alone”, wrapping her easily with her long arms, she held her close. “It took nine years of my life getting to understand that I’ll find you, I just wasn’t expecting it was going to be here.”

“Then why the first coherent thing you blurt out after you find out i am your soulmate is to say this is a mistake?”, Manila clapped back, freeing her own frustration and obvious hurt.

“Because I’ve been with you for hours, and I found out that I really  like you, that I’m up to open up and there comes that you’re meant to be with me.” Raja’s voice half shy and half relieved. “Once you get your heart shattered by destiny, you never expect for it to actually mend its shit”.

Manila was about to retort when something sink in, “nine years?” Getting to know how much she have waited, left the girl speechless for a moment.

Raja nodded. “Nine fucking years where I’ve lost a boyfriend and I thought I was going nuts, because I didn’t find you.” She sighed deeply, finally saying those words out loud reducing her constant anger. “Nine fucking years to get to understand that I was denying myself.” Instinctively, Manila laid a hand on Raja’s chest, feeling her take a deep breathe. “And they were fucking worth it, because you are gorgeous and I’m happy to finally have you.”

The softness on Raja’s statement melted Manila’s heart, leaning the side her face to the other girl’s shoulder, whispering. “And I can’t believe that you actually exist, I can’t believe how good is having you here, all wet and mug smudged.” Raja held a laugh, that made Manila look back at her, lifting her face, the older one giving the other a soft peck on the lips.

“Now let’s get out of this pool cause I’m freezing”, Raja said, releasing her and swimming to the end of the pool, jumping out and taking her hand to pull her off the pool.

Manila wrapped herself around Raja, “so… are we taking this from where we left it?”

A wolfish smile spread across Raja’s lips, “I’ll do that but not here… what do you think of a nice warm bathtub, a bottle of red wine and no wet clothing?”

“Sounds like a plan to me”, Manila winked at Raja, and they went to get their abandoned heels and clutches.

“Then come with me” Raja said,  stretching her hand to her, and holding the heels with the other, steadying her for a second and then running wildly to reach the elevator and leaving a wet trail behind them.

====

After a semi awkward elevator ride, they made it to the room, Manila taking off her wet clothes while Raja prepared the bath. Raja stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a white towel and holding one for Manila. The tall girl felt her mouth dry at the sight of Manila’s body, shamelessly on display, the other girl oblivious to her observer behind her back.

“Tub’s ready”, Raja said, approaching to Manila, who turned to face her, to reach her and undoing the knot of Raja’s towel, making her suppress a moan.

“What was that Raja?” Manila looked at her face, desire shining brightly on her eyes, “do you really want me?”

“I want you so bad, is driving me mad”, Raja admitted, sliding a hand on the side of her naked body.

“Lucky that I want you too… come.” Manila said taking  Raja’s hand in hers, and getting rid of the towel in the process. “You’re overdressed for the occasion” she whispered, delighted on discovering Raja’s body for the first time…

Raja pulled  her to the bathroom, pushing the door with her foot and leading Manila to the tub, soft warm steam flooding the room, and taking a sweet moment to  actually look at her naked silhouette and biting her lower lip at the mere idea of being able to touch her. She was the first to get in the tub, followed almost immediately by Manila, who delicately made herself comfortable in the space between her legs.

Leaning her back over Raja’s chest, Manila was the first reaching for the other one’s lips, getting heated within seconds, when Raja broke the kiss gasping for air. “Easy baby, there’s no rush, we have all the time in the world”, the older girl whispered, making the other shiver with her breathe spreading on the wet skin of  her neck.

“Where does this romantic freak comes from?”, Manila asked, sliding  one of her hands over the brown skin of her arm. “I thought you wanted me”, she teased once more, reaching to catch Raja’s lips again.

Smiling  to her lips, Raja answered, “comes from nine years of craving to know how you looked, or if you existed… now I happen to want to discover every-single-inch-of-you.”

Manila kissed her again, briefly this time, turning on the water to kneel in front of her. “Then do yourself a party Columbus.”

Raja laughed softly to her silliness, taking her sweet little time to tame Manila’s hair with one hand, starting to kiss each  single part of her face, while feeling other pair of hands roaming through her legs and dangerously reaching to her thighs. “You’re decided to make me surrender, aren’t you little butterfly?” The girl gave her a mischievous smile while nodding, just to point her affirmation with a kiss. Raja sighed deeply, just to say in a low tone “then I’ll teach you to behave.”

Manila laughed, approaching a little more to Raja, feeling her whole body to shiver with the slight brushing of their breasts. “What if you better show me how nine years of craving feel like.”

Raja smiled crookedly, pulling Manilla closer to her body. “Only good girls get what they want… and right now, I’m the nicest girl in the world”, she whispered, sliding one hand across the other girl’s back, caressing firmly the curve of her lower back and then  squeezing her butt cheek, delighted on the softness of Manila’s strangled moans.

“Nine years of craving felt like being incomplete” she whispered to her ear, nipping her earlobe. “Feels like you can’t breathe, forcefully gathering air into your lungs”, she continues, making some distance between their bodies, using one of her hands to tease one of Manila’s nipples. “Feels like food is flavorless, and your favorite jammies don’t warm you anymore at night”,  she approached her lips, biting lightly on Manila’s lower lip, while leaning her forehead to join her soulmate’s, barely touching the tip of their noses. “Nine years of craving felt like long days, endless nights and a cold that wraps you from inside out.”

Lost in the moment, Manila abandoned herself to her lover’s touch, while Raja’s voice was low, and seductive; distracting enough to make her lose track of time. “But ain’t gonna lie, it feels so fucking good at the end, cause i get to do this.” In one steady move, she quickly shoved two fingers inside Manila, the girl whimpering at the sudden stimulation.

“I… I’ll make it…” a moan dying strangled in Manila’s throat made Raja smile. “I’ll make it out for the lost time”, she managed to say, while feeling the slender fingers moving inside out of  her. “I’ll give you back the colors and flavors… and the warmth”, Manila kisses Raja hungrily, barely managing to slide her own hands to cup her soulmate’s breasts.

“Yeah.” Raja said in whisper taking her fingers out of Manila, the girl grunting for the sudden loss; wasting no time she stood up out of the bathtub taking Manila out with her. “Let’s take this to the bed, so i can really show you baby.”

Raja didn’t know what had gotten into her, but this girl, her soulmate had an effect on her that she couldn’t describe even with a dictionary in hand. She wanted to be so gentle with her, most of all, she wanted to take her time to discover her, in the other hand, she was starving with need to touch her, she wanted… no, she needed to claim her. The flood of emotions taking the best of her, making her smart mouth to run out of words for the first time in her life, letting her go on the new overwhelming sensations.

Manila snapped her back by sliding slowly her foot on the bare skin of Raja’s hip, a  precise movement that left her vibrating. “You like what you see?”, she asked, wrapping her leg around the other girl and making her fall over.

“More than you can imagine”, Raja whispered against her throat, just to kiss her fiercely one more time. Then she draw a line of sloppy kisses along her jawline and going down to her breasts, torso and finally getting to taste her.

====

They fell beside each other on the mattress for the third time that night, Raja barely breathing and unable to open her eyes after the most incredible orgasm. Manila turned to lean on her lover’s chest, who instinctively reached to caress her hair softly. “And this is how five years of longing and hoping feels like.”

“Five years?” Raja asked, suddenly opening her eyes to look at her, who pushed herself up in a hand to look her in the eyes.

“I was fifteen and wondering who I was, the first time I dreamt of you”, her voice sounded distant and kind of dreamy. “Imagine how it was, I fell asleep in my mom’s car a couple of hours before my birthday party”, Manila smiled, thinking of herself as the teenager she was back then, and enjoying the perks of being the woman she grew up to be. “It’ll be just a nap, I thought… and then, there were you, your skin tanned to perfection and the beautiful long black hair.”

Raja started drawing spyrals with her thumb on her lower back, making her giggle, and look at her with her eyes still full of amusement. “I guess I knew I loved you ever since, because your face had always filled me with joy… the only thing I couldn’t understand, was why you always seemed so sad.” Manila kissed her stomach. “Now I think I understand why, and I promise you to do my best to never see you like that again.”

====

Raja woke to the sight of a sleeping Manila, who was relaxed and all spreaded over the mattress, legs tangled and half wrapped in bed sheets. The soft lines of her face making her look younger than she was, and making Raja wonder how would they look together in a week, a month, a decade… and she decided she was up to find it out. She was about to caress the cheekbone of the gorgeous girl in her arms, when the door linked to Aja’s room burst open with a slam.

“Good Morning Butter…” Raja jump out the bed reaching with her long arms for Aja’s mouth to make her shut up, desisting of her intentions when her friend licked her hand.  “My Oh My! look who finally got laid!”

“Praise Allah! you’re disgusting” Raja hissed to the girl in front of her. “Could you please shut up bitch? you’ll wake the whole floor.” Taller than the other, she blocked her sight and Aja was stretching her neck trying to see the girl on the bed.

Standing on her toes, she was still trying to watch over her friend’s shoulder. “Who is she? I deserve to know bitch, I got the party last night!”

“For the last time, shut up! you’ll wake her up!” Raja hissed and Aja stood in front of her crossing her arms, arching a brow, quietly questioning. Raising her hands in surrender, she said. “It’s Manila…”

“Her soulmate”, a groggy voice completed from the bed, where modestly Manila was holding the bed sheet over her breasts.

“NO FUCKING WAY! YOU FOUND YOUR FUCKING SOULMATE AND DIDN’T EVEN SEND A MESSAGE?!” Aja yelled, not really thinking on what she was saying, but making Sasha open the door of the other side.

“Alright… you two are gonna stop yelling… and you” Sasha pointed to Aja, “you’re gonna leave them alone, this is nothing of your business… at least for now.”  Sasha dragged Aja out of Raja’s room, making sure to close both doors before they were surrounded by silence once again.

Realizing her own nakedness, Raja got blushed and Manila giggled at her reaction. “I have never imagined you were such a prude.” She closed the space between them, letting the sheet fall to the floor and sliding her arms around Raja’s waist. “You’re perfect baby, never feel ashamed of your body in front of me… I cherish you.” She kissed her collarbone and Raja put her arms over her lover’s shoulders.

“I could get used to wake to your face every morning… it’s the best sight ever.” She whispered, leaning to join her by the forehead. “I love you Nila… “

A soft smile spreaded over Manila’s lips while she said “I love you too Rajie”, just to kiss her one more time of the many that will follow onwards.

[gingerambition]

Ginger Ambition Update

If you don’t know me, I’m assuming I’m your favorite ginger you’ve never met. If you’re reading this and you have met me however, you either have a huge secret crush on me, you’ve dated me and you’re looking for a subtle reference to yourself, or you recite my name each night as part of your Arya Stark–esque murder list. Honestly you’re more than welcome to my face, it takes an hour to put on before a first date anyway and is almost immediately ruined by excessive heat and pouting. You’d really just be saving me time at this point.

 Anyway, before I can publish my drafts about receiving dick pics in my late 20′s (FUUUUUUCK), Tinder dates that result in me either A. bailing him out of jail or B. ending up at a bar that is actually a wake, and being a proud member of the girls still blacking out in Ubers while everyone else is getting engaged club, I have to get some things off my (perky) chest. It’s kind of long but typing it out will be like losing 20 pounds of emotional weight. 

It’s been eight months since I got dumped. Two hundred and forty days later (I haven’t been counting I just did 8 x 30 on my phone) and I am still getting the same questions, so to avoid prolonging the graduation party effect (answering the same 5 questions on repeat the way I’m currently listening to “Look What You Made Me Do”), I am going to just put it all on the table. 

I got dumped at the end of December. It was days after celebrating Christmas with his family and attending my best friend’s 90′s throwback party where everything seemed normal AF. In fact I hear he’s up for an Oscar for his portrayal of communicating, loving boyfriend. So no, it was not mutual. He had his reasons. (Sidebar: the self-control I just showed in resisting the urge to put air quotes around the word, reasons, is similar to how I felt the other night when this old dude who was buying me Coors Lights was texting Taylor Kitsch, YES – THE ACTOR, and all I wanted to do was spider monkey across the table, grab his phone, and get the digits of a B-list celeb).  I felt the breakup was out of the blue.  I’m sure him and I will never see eye-to-eye on it, and that’s because he’s way taller than me so it’s physically impossible.  If I’ve told you “my story” in person, just skip this post. If you’ve been curious, here it is . . . 

I Ubered to our apartment from the San Francisco airport (he couldn’t pick me up because he was drinking), and he was on the couch. He hadn’t unpacked from being home for Christmas yet. He got back to our apartment a day earlier. His shoes were on. I made us mac n’ cheese. I started nagging that he wasn’t eating his and it was getting cold, I even put the pepper out for you. I was snuggling our cat and asking him how much he missed his girls. He turned off the TV and said, using my full name, we need to talk. Every part of me between my throat and my belly button knotted together and tasted like acid and pennies, my limbs felt distant and heavy, I moved to him, but I felt more like I was watching myself. After we spoke (he whispered, I cried), he took his still packed bag, I tried to kiss him (I got his cheek), and I watched him walk down the hall as I so often did in the morning when he left for work before me. That was the last time I saw him. After 2 states, 4 apartments, 5 years, countless "babe, you need to double flush after that,” kitchen slow dance parties, and putting our mattress in the living room for pizza fueled sleepovers, it was done. And it is done, because I don’t believe in second chances when it comes to ex-boyfriends. At some point they always come back. Of that I am certain. It could be 5 weeks or it could be 15 years, but it always happens and I take comfort in that.

I called my best friend, she didn’t answer so I texted her husband. I called my mom. I called my sister. My best friend called back. I told my college best friends. I texted a few more girls. I told everyone I wanted to hear it from me, and gave them permission to pass it on like a shitty game of telephone, so I wouldn’t have to live it over and over. I cried myself to sleep wrapped up in a nest of blankets, pillows, and dirty clothes I made out of things that smelled like him. I woke up every hour, realized where I was, cried, fell back asleep, repeat. I left the TV on to feel less alone. The small studio, that I couldn’t wait to return to less than 24 hours prior, felt less like home and more like stumbling upon a movie set or the apartment of a stranger I follow on Instagram. I had an idea of who had lived there, how they felt, how I should feel, but I was suffocated between collections of crap full of memories I could imagine but not grasp, and inside jokes I could make an outline of, but not see. In 12 hours I had aged 5 years. Everything felt fresh, and sharp, and distant, and numb, and a thousand other emotions all at the same time and I didn’t understand how that could be. 

Then I did something I never thought I would do, I just left. I took a red eye flight back to Michigan, where I was just 24 hours prior. I left all of the apartment lights on, the TV, and our Christmas tree. I cut up our favorite t-shirt then refolded it and put it in his drawer. I snapped my Harry Potter wand in half (from our 4 year anniversary trip) and put it under his pillow. I took everything of his I could see from my bed and put it in the corner. I tore every Uno card in half and left them in a pile. I wanted to break all of his Legos and throw out the directions but my mom said no, and for some reason I listened. I pulled the felt monogram I made off his nightstand lamp shade. I deleted my wedding Pintrest board. I deleted all of our pictures together from my phone. If you don’t want me anymore, I don’t see the point in lingering. If I said doing all of that petty crap didn’t make me feel better, I’d be lying. It was better than drunk Taco Bell after a sorority date party. 

I took as many sweatshirts and yoga pants as I could fit in a carry on, my large suitcase, my purse, cornered our cat into her carrier, and I left the rest for him to ship. Here’s an old school story problem to give you a break from brown out figuring out how to tip and write your number of a bar tab at the same time, 1 sobbing ginger + 2 suitcases + 1 purse + 1 cat that weighs like 2 cats = this blog can write itself. But wait, there’s more! The Titanic soundtrack was playing at my gate and my Uber driver almost killed us. He didn’t understand English, so when my cat started clawing to get out of her soft side airplane regulation carrier, and I pleaded with her to stop (when it rains it pours), he slammed on the breaks - on the HIGHWAY - and said “stop? stop? stop?” I yelled, KEEP FUCKING GOING. Not a moment I’m particularly proud of, but it happened. I put in my 2 weeks notice and worked remotely, wrapping up projects, and apologizing in emails. I tried not to burn bridges. Hurt has a ripple effect not always immediately evident. 

The worst part for me is knowing one day, every adventure, every nickname, every private moment we shared together will be forgotten, will disintegrate, and I will be reduced to, “that ginger I dated for like 5 years in my 20′s and had a TV show no one watched.” I will be become one of his two truths and a lie options. I won’t even have a name. He will tell some Cliff Notes version of “our story” to the daughter he has with someone else who isn’t me when it’s her heart that is broken and craves assurance there’s someone out there for everyone.

I slept on and off for the next 4 days, a very Carrie in the “Sex and The City” movie when she’s on her honeymoon with her friends instead of Big, of me to do. I never said I wasn’t dramatic. I didn’t drink. I made myself shower. I went on long walks with my parents’ dog and listened to a “Guys Are The Wooooorst” Spoitfy playlist I made. Everyone was so proud of me and impressed by how I kept it together, how I’m still keeping it together. Friends were happy to have me home, to have me so close to them. I felt wanted again. It’s not hard to act fine when he’s on the other side of the country. I wasn’t going to run into him. He never drunk dialed me, never texted. As much as distance can make things hard, it can also make things easy. 

My first breakup with my first boyfriend when I was 19 was horrible. I lost a ton of weight (not in a hot way - in a, “her head is too big for her body” kind of way), I didn’t go to class, I passed out on porches, I took my anti-depressants on and off sometimes with whatever shot was on special or being handed to me. This time, simply put, I would not allow myself to be that girl again. I was like nope, too cute, too sassy, too many people who love me to go back to that. (Although it would be nice to basically fit my American Girl doll’s clothes again.) I received so many cards and presents in the mail from best friends, girls I hadn’t talked to in years, and old co-workers that I almost wish I got dumped sooner, preferably around the time of a Kate Spade Surprise Sale. 

So it’s been eight months. I’m 27-years-old and I’m starting over. I’m living at home. I bought a new old car. I thought 2017 was the year I’d be planning a wedding. Now the extent of my planning is what I’m wearing to work tomorrow and what city I will visit next weekend. But you know what? I’m happy. I’m loved. I’m done settling. 

[veoakes3]

Unlacing at The Foot

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.” Luke 15:20

This is a long one, y’all. There’s been a lot happening in this heart over the past 48 hours.

Did you know I like to run? Did you know I run a LOT of races?

Kudos to you, if you didn’t. It means you don’t spend much time on social media, because there is NO WAY you would have missed those facts about me if you did.

Isn’t it funny how The Lord often brings things full-circle?

Three years ago TODAY, I set out with a goal to run a mile without stopping. At the time, I couldn’t run for more than thirty seconds without grabbing my side and gasping for air. I downloaded the Couch to 5k app and vowed to stick to it. I did, and until Week 6, I thought I was going to die. I panicked every time they upped the time spent running vs. walking. I stuck with it though, because I don’t break promises to myself. It’s a rule. 

On New Years Day, I did what I thought to be a never-going-to-happen dream: I ran a 5k distance without stopping. The next week at school, Mollie invited me to run with a group of girls, which was the beginning of the beautiful friendships with my Jasper tribe. 

A week later, Aly, Erin, and I began training for our first half marathon. I’m 100% sure that what made me love running was not actual running. My mind associates running and training with the sweetest memories with these girls, whom I had no idea would turn into my forever friends.

Through running, I also learned self-love.

You see, another reason I began this journey was so that I could learn to love me again. In my mind, there was nothing special about me anymore. I felt bland, boring, and so vanilla. I felt like I had nothing to offer back to the world I was constantly taking from. I hated my body, because it was no longer that size 2, muscle house it was in high school. I felt stuck in my routine, and, worse, I could feel myself withdrawing into my hiding place where no one could get to me… not even Brock. 

All that being said, you can imagine what healing was brought into my life through these runs. I fell in love with how healthy, capable, and strong my body is. I was proud of what I had worked hard to accomplish, and I learned how driven and dedicated I am. I learned how important it is to take care of me, so that I can pour into others.

I learned that I COULD pour into others.

These runs and relationships also brought healing in an unexpected way. I was an angry child and teen. I was so lost, and I was so outdone with the lack of stability and control I had over my life while growing up. Even as I started growing away from the anger and into my own person with age, I had people who I loved keep speaking those past attributes into my life, “You were so mean. Yes, you were…and angry… and disrespectful… and stubborn… and selfish.” I remember crying, thinking I had no chance in being the woman I wanted to be, because I would always be labeled by how I reacted while growing up in chaos, without Jesus might I add. I had accepted it and put my armor on, so no one could hurt me anymore.

Brock had tried so hard to take that armor off. He did at times, but he was literally the first person aside from my grandfather and mother to ever openly express the potential he saw in the new me. I was convinced it was just a matter of time before he changed his mind. 

Then, these women in Jasper started saying the same thing. They saw me as this woman I so desperately wanted to be, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them that wasn’t the real me. 

Then, other people from my school, our church, our community started saying the same things. I remember panicking on my birthday when so many people commented on my Facebook wall with “Sweet Jenna!” I thought, “Oh, no. They’re going to find out. They’re going to find out I’m not sweet and loving. I’m such a snake. How do I have so many people fooled? They’re going to turn on me when they find out…”

Do you know what? They didn’t. Do you know why? They had no reason to turn. This WAS the real me. These people had no idea what my past was like. They saw me for who I was in that moment, and they saw a kind, loving, SWEET woman who always smiled and is a hard worker and a loyal friend. I peeled the armor off for them. 

So to loop back- my heart associates running with the sweetest healing, memories, and love-tank filling moments of my adult life. And what do you know…the more you practice, the easier and more therapeutic actual running gets!

Then, we moved to Huntsville.

Our first year in Huntsville, I mourned leaving my school, my church, and most importantly, my tribe. I didn’t have those kind of friendships up here, yet. It also turned out to be the most horrific year of my adult life due to, well...life, to date. 

So what did I do? I ran. It was my coping mechanism. I still got a level of endorphin boost from it, but it also made me very sad. I missed my Jasper girls, and running alone when I needed to pour my heart out day after day didn’t help. Brock was absolutely wonderful and my unwavering backbone that year, but I still desperately missed my tribe of women.

After making it out of the other side of the fire, I decided to work toward something that brought me joy and would make me fall in love with running itself. I planned to chase after the crazy goal I had set for myself two years prior- to run a half marathon every month, September-May. I was laser-focused, and set out with a side grin and a new level of motivation. It was terrifying.

I finished September…October…November…December.  “Look at what I’m doing! This is crazy! Wow!”

January…February…March…April… (Check…check…check…check…)

Then came May, when I ran my first full marathon. “VIRGINIA ELYSE OAKES…YOU BEAST, YOU! LOOK AT WHAT YOU CAN DO!”

I was elated. I did the unthinkable.I had always said I wanted to run a full, just to say I had done one, but I never actually thought I would.

BUT I did it.

I completely crushed the 9-month goal I set for myself. My goal was over. The new plan was to run no more than 3-5 miles for the rest of the year.

But I got antsy. So of course, I signed up for another marathon in December.

And another half marathon in October.

And I started training again… the week school started back.

I started out strong. Then, the weekday runs started slipping. Then, the long, weekend runs started becoming bi-weekly runs. I was getting very burned out with HAVING to run. It was becoming a chore. I could do it though. Not much longer…then, I’ll rest. (Sound familiar?)

Two weeks ago, I somehow cranked out a 16-miler.

This past Saturday, I had a 20-miler.

I stopped back at my car (which is also my house) at mile 10 to refill my water bottle. I remember feeling frustrated, because I really just wanted to soak in the bath and read…possibly take a nap before my dinner plans. I didn’t have time for all of it. 

Then, I got angry. 

I was angry that what I loved felt like an obligation. 

So I stopped and did all of the other things I wanted to do.

That night, I brought it up to Gabby. I was toying with the idea of still doing the marathon, because I knew my body could make that milage, I paid for it, I’ve finished 16 miles, I wanted one more marathon medal on my 26.2 hook, my time was not where I wanted it in May, and I DON’T BREAK PROMISES TO MYSELF. 

She lovingly kept responding to these concerns with, “…and? …so? ….I promise you won’t care this much after some time…You know people live fulfilled lives without running marathons, right?… You are risking injury, because you aren’t properly trained for it….This is not Flying Pig. It is NOT going to be magical and wonderful like it was in May.”

So much rationality… that’s why she’s one of my wisdom friends. 

But my heart didn’t want to hear the rational.

I will say the last notion stuck though. I kept turning it over in my mind, because May was magical, and I didn’t want to leave that distance with a sour taste and a disdain for running.

Next, I brought it up to my Japser tribe. We were video chatting Sunday morning, and I told them what Gabby said. They agreed with everything and love her even more than they already did for loving me enough to speak the truth I didn’t want to hear.

As I was walking to the front of the house, replaying what they were all saying in my head, I was still thinking, “I have to do this! I can’t not go through with it. I don’t do that. I don’t break promises to myself, and I run the races!”

Then I heard it… the still, small voice. “This has become an idol, beloved. Your greatest level of fulfillment no longer comes from Me.”

I stopped dead in my tracks in the kitchen. I dropped my purse on the floor with a “thud”. I sat on my window seat, and told them what I had just felt in my heart. I tried to make light of it, but my heart was broken in the deepest way. I sobbed. We’re talking re-do the makeup and wait to go to Walmart, because your eyes are so bloodshot sobbed. 

Y’all…I didn’t even realize it. I was so consumed with myself, that I didn’t see it.

It started as a gift of healing, self-love/respect, and friendship from Him. It became an crutch when we moved. It became a way to feel like myself and accomplish a crazy goal, after my horrible year. It became an idol this year. 

I was broken. How could I not see it? 

My heart literally ached all afternoon. I even put up ALL of my Christmas decorations, trying to stir joy, but I was restless.

I finally fell on my face, and wept. I realized that since I started this goal in June of ’17, my focus had shifted from Him to me. I had all of these “reasons” in my head as to why I have not been the loving, sweet, always smiling and upbeat person I am for the past year and a half. I had “reasons” as to why I wasn’t as disciplined in my actions, thoughts, and words.

The truth is, I had become self-centered and self-serving.

My fulfillment and worth started depending on what I could do, instead of what He calls and equips me to.  My daily thoughts, actions, and perspective were determined by my selfish flesh and not my redeemed soul. 

Y’all… I’ve got some work to do on my heart. The habit of surrender is tough when you are out of practice. 

I went into my library room at home, where I have all of my medals and pictures from the past three years on display. I love that wall. I would often look at it and think, “Look what I did! Wow!” Today as I sat in front of it, my perspective shifted from pride to thankfulness. 

I swallowed that bitter pill, unlaced my shoes, thanked Him PROFUSELY for the joy and fulfillment the past three years have given me, and made the choice to step away from long-distance racing for at least a year... however long it takes for Him to mold this back into the gift it was always meant to be, not the identity and measure of self-worth it has become. 

It may sound silly to some, but that choice was and is very hard for me. I’m sure this sounds so dramatic to you, but that’s ok. 

Because it’s not about you. It’s not even about me.  It’s all about Him and His glory. 

Today, I choose to lay my running shoes and all they represent at His feet and take up my cross, once again. 

Today, I praise Him for loving His selfish prodigal daughter and saving her through His selfless, perfect Son.

WAY more of Him, and WAY less of me

[keanureevves]

yesterday my cousin died

I don’t know why I feel the compulsion to post this, but I can’t stop thinking about it, so I may as well try to communicate.

Yesterday was stressful, even before it happened. I was on holiday with my parents and brother, and yesterday was the start of our journey home. Coaches were boarded, planes were flown, and the long (and very cramped) taxi ride home felt like forever. When I finally got into my bed, I had no plans to leave it for the rest of the day.

Then i heard my mother screaming.

I dashed down the stairs to find my dad holding my mother up while she clutched her phone. My brother was just in front of me, equally as clueless. I quickly started questioning what was going on, but got no answers. Dad was in shock and mum was hurrying around turning ovens off and crouching to find her shoes. Dad finally said that my uncle had phoned saying we need to get to them immediately. He had only said that one of their kids had passed.

I have three cousins on my mother’s side; Lori, Ben, and Jake. Every scenario flew threw my head as my dad drove us there. Lori had epilepsy and other health problems, but Ben and Jake are wild, they could have been in an accident or something. When we got caught in traffic for an hour I thought I was going to explode. My uncle didn’t want to tell us over the phone, so we had no idea what was going on.

When we finally got there, the door was open and their living room was full. I scanned the room to see who was missing, but I found out through the screams of my aunt. It was Ben.

Ben was a young, strong man, whose job was logging. He would cut down trees, then get rid of the roots. Yesterday at around 3pm, a tree hit him and killed him instantly, at least that’s what the police said. All the facts aren't clear yet to how this exactly happened, but it happened and it is real.

This is the first time I’ve been around family members in the wake of this kind of news. I had an uncle die a year ago, but I was away in university when the news broke so I was distanced from it. But this was so raw, so consuming. 

People were on the floor sobbing; Ben’s rugby mates were hugging each other, and my beautiful cousin Lori was in the garden on her own. She has special needs, so she doesn’t experience things the same way as most people. She was in her nightie, with a blanket over her shoulders, and a cup of tea in hand (not milky enough). Her eyes were red, but she started giggling when she saw me, as she always does. She says “alright?” in her usual tone, and I can’t help but sob. She knows what’s going on, she’s as sharp as anyone else, but she’s going through something else. We’re much the same: the first sign of trouble, we run away. We stayed in the garden for a bit holding hands, accompanied by Jake’s girlfriend. My brother joins us soon after, where we stay in silence. 

We hear that my uncle and aunt have left to identify the body, leaving Jake and Lori with us. What do you say to a person who has not only lost his brother, but also his best friend? Jake’s friends surrounded him, while I sat next with Lori, who was her usual lovely self, but a quieter version.

My mum had taken the car to tell my grandparents. Ben had been living with them on the week days to help out at their farm. Because that’s the type of person he was. He could have stayed with his parents or got a place for himself, as a young man just entering adulthood. But no, he chose to help my sick granddad. He was funny, he was hard-working, and he was full of life. That is why I’m fucking furious. I don’t believe in any Gods, I don’t believe in a higher force above science. So who do I have to blame for this injustice? In a world that seems so bleak and filled with hate, why did he have to die?

Seeing my grandparents have to be sedated was harrowing, seeing my aunt scream that she didn’t want to leave him in the morgue destroyed me, seeing my uncle howling was scary. They said he looked like he was sleeping. He had a black eye and a graze on his head, but other than that my uncle said he looked like he’s just come in from a night out with the boys.

Today I have not left my room. I’m a coward. My parents have been to see their parents to check if they’re ok. And here I am. Typing. Feeling useless.

I’m not going to pretend Ben and I were super close. We weren’t. But that’s not the point. His family are so special to me. And seeing them in this much pain is heartbreaking. Where they live, their community is so supportive and loving. It was beautiful to witness. But I live half an hour away, which to some people is not a lot, but the difference is staggering between living here in Cardiff, and them living in the Valleys. I feel a distance that hits that sweet-spot where I feel useless, but I also don’t feel entitled to feeling the pain. Everyone is mourning over there, and I’m stuck over here doing nothing. At this point in time, I feel almost numb. Usually I have a hard time controlling my thoughts, but now i can feel myself consciously repressing thinking about him.

We grew up together. When my mum was working, I was at my aunt’s house, playing with Ben and Jake. He were mischievous. He were cheeky. Ben was the typical big brother who teased his younger relatives, but also made them laugh. I would see him on christmas day, pissed out of his mind, singing with his father and brother, and play-fighting with my brother.

The world seems different. It’s like a cracked mirror; the world looks warped and broken.

[theoppositeofadaydream-blog]

Call Me. URGENT.

There is a moment in everyone’s life that becomes special to them for some reason. Not a moment in the relativity of life, but an exact moment in time. For me that moment is 11:47 pm. At 11:47 almost every night my eyes find the nearest clock and I sigh. This exhalation is the physical signal that my mind has hit my mental wall. There is nothing more I can do this evening, all that’s left is to is take an Ambien and go to sleep, hoping for a dreamless night. At 11:47 pm, the world is too quiet, the lights too bright, and my mind too busy. At 11:47 all the tragedy comes rushing back to me and I no longer have the brain capacity to deal with the bad events. At 11:47, my day is done.

July 8th, 2016

“Call me. URGENT”

Whenever I see those three words come from contact “Momma”, my stomach turns inside out.

“Call me. URGENT” was the text I received on the most heartbreaking days of my life.

“Did you get this text from Mom?” I asked my sister. More frequently than not, Mom texted us both at the same time.

“Yeah…” came the reply. We puzzled for a moment over what it could be, then had a little back and forth on who would call. Sometimes an URGENT text from Mom meant someone was in trouble. We decided I would call Mom, but my sister stayed close to listen. After one ring, Mom picked up.

“Sweetie?”

“Hi, Momma, what’s wrong?” I immediately  asked. I could hear the strain in her voice as she asked me to put her on speaker with my sister.

“It’s your Uncle…” she finally managed out, “They- They found his body this morning… H-he jumped off the Bay Bridge.” The world stopped as I tried to process what had just happened. Dead? My Uncle? I couldn’t believe that this could happen. But, I also could believe it.

My uncle had been sick. Physically he was perfect -- he played tennis, hiked, ate healthy, and kept his mind sharp. But none of it was enough to help him later.

Last December Mom had given us the family gossip that he had admitted himself into a hospital for suicidal thoughts. Twice. He was at his ranch up near Sacramento when he called his aunt to take him to the hospital. She did, and he was admitted for 72 hours. After the three days were up, he got picked up and began to head home. But it was still too much. He freaked out and needed to go back, before he even got a chance to see his house. My grandma flew in from Colorado the next day to see him and take care of him.

At Christmas that year, he was his usual self -- happy, cheerful, slightly flustered. But it was all normal. He brought my cousin and everyone had a great time. We were all together and it seemed the worst was behind us. He spoke openly about what had happened and how much better he felt now that he was taking medicine for his troubles. It seemed like a bout of depression, more stress than he was able to handle. But it all turned around.

A few months later, we heard that my uncle was “going off the deep end”. My sister and I were warned to keep an ear out and tell Mom if he called us. He had had a schizophrenic break. He fully believed the government was out to get him, and that his father’s death (also suicide) was a government ploy as well. He thought my grandparents were gun and drug smugglers, he thought my aunt wanted to take his son away, he thought his whole family was in on the conspiracy. As heartbreaking as hearing the accusations was, it was even more heartbreaking hearing how much he believed them. If anyone tried to convince him to see a doctor, he would repeat his hollow mantra, “I am fine. I am absolutely fine.”

On Christmas he said those words. When we came to him as a family, he said those words. On the night he died, he said these words. These were the words he gave to the people he cared about. These are the words he gave to himself as he drove to the bridge, parked his motorcycle, and jumped.

“I am absolutely fine.”

The next month was a flurry of emotions and consolations. Every night we went to my grandmother’s house to comfort her. She became frail and weak with grief as she attempted to process. Both of her children were dead -- taken by the most cruel ways a child can be taken. Her daughter, taken by drugs, her son taken by mental illness and fear. We could not begin to imagine the pain she was going through.

As we helped her move forward, we began to heal as a family. I took up the position and responsibility of helping my aunt with my cousin. It was difficult to believe that such a huge influence on my life would no longer be there. He was the man who stepped up as a father figure to my sister and I when my mom had cancer. He taught me how to play tennis, and got us one of the best coaches. He helped with homework, and took us on trips. The only silver lining is that we still have the man we knew, instead of the man he became, forever in our memories.

September 21, 2016

“Call me. URGENT”

When I woke up that morning, nothing could stop me. I went to my therapy appointment after which my boyfriend surprised me by skipping class to take me to breakfast. It was a beautiful morning, a perfect day to get my homework done outside and enjoy the sun. As we were driving back from breakfast at my favorite cafe, I got the text.

But the text isn’t what set me off that morning. It was the follow-up phone call from my grandma. When I saw “Nanny” pop up on the screen, I assumed she just wanted to check in about my plans for the day and evening (I lived with her, so we had constant communication).

“Hey Nanny, what’s up” I began, not knowing what was in store.

“Have you talked to your mother today?” She immediately asked.

“No, why?” I replied. As I said this, I felt the all too familiar uneasiness of a bad situation start up in my stomach.

“You need to call her.” Nanny said, “Your sister is in the hospital.”

“What, why? How? What happened?” I began to cry as the hysteria began to set in. My chest tightened and white noise filled my ears as Nanny tried to tell me what happened.

“She was at a friend’s house, I guess, and they found her not breathing this morning,” I heard her say through a fog. “It looks like a drug overdose. Your mom is on the way to the hospital now, I’m on the way home.” By this time my boyfriend had pulled over to try to comfort me as I sobbed. I hung up with nanny and my world caved in. And I screamed. I had never before understood why people screamed when bad things happened in movies. What was the point when nothing was hurting? But in that moment, I understood. The pain of the thought of my baby sister in a hospital, dying, was too much for me to take. So I screamed. And screamed and screamed. What felt like an eternity was only really a minute or two, until my brain turned back on into crisis mode. That’s when I finally saw the text.

“Call me. URGENT” And so I called.

When my mom picked up, I began to sob again.

“Sweetie,” came the quick reply to my tears, “Do you have any idea who she was with or what she was doing? She was in Vacaville? Does she know anyone there?” I have never heard my mom so desperate for answers before.

“I have no idea, Momma,” I sobbed back, “Is she going to be okay?”

“We don’t know yet, honey. She’s in really bad shape. Wait for Nanny then come up here. Don’t drive. I’ll text you the name of the hospital.”

I felt like a switch had turned off on my mind. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t react. I heard my boyfriend trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t hear the words. I felt like I was sinking down a dark hole that not even light could escape from. All of my optimism and positive energy was useless as I pictured my sister lying in a hospital.

Finally I snapped out of it and was able to respond. My voice sounded as if it was coming through a tunnel.

“We need to wait for Nanny,” I finally managed to choke out. “Can you drive us?” I turned to him with pleading eyes. I knew he had to go to work and had things to do, but I also knew it wasn’t safe for me to be alone or driving.

“Of course,” he replied, “Anything you need.”

He took me back to my house to wait for Nanny and my dad, who were both coming from San Francisco. While we waited I sat on my sister’s bed and looked around her room helplessly for anything that would give me a clue to what had happened. With nothing to show from my search, I hugged Tabby’s favorite stuffed animal to my chest and cried. I packed her favorite (and my least favorite) pair of boots, some pajamas, and her stuffed animal to bring with me to the hospital.

Finally, we got the word that my dad and grandma were at Bart ready to be picked up. The drive to Fairfield usually takes a little over an hour, but we made it there in 45 minutes. The longest 45 minutes of my life passed before me as I frantically texted all of Tabby’s friends trying to find out more. Her friends told me about her drug use, and how they had become a little worried. By this time, her toxicology screen had come back. She was full of Cocaine and another unspecified opiate. My world caved in a little more. She should know better! Drugs were a constant negative theme in my family. I was taken away from my birth parents because of drug use, my dad had been an addict, my mom’s sister had died from drugs. The swirl of emotions was overwhelming as I tried to piece together what happened.

After the most agonizing 45 minutes of my life, we arrived at the hospital. My grandma and I sprinted in to find my mom. I ran into the waiting room we were given, and flung myself into my mom’s arms. I began to cry once again with her as we mourned for my sister. Mom filled us in to what happened as best she could.

My little sister had gotten way in over her head. She had gone over to a friend’s house, someone none of us knew. She was drinking, smoking, doing drugs, and it all went too far. The last contact anyone had from her was a text I received from her at 12:03 AM saying “Don’t look at my snaps”. Once I realized what had happened, I tried to look, only to find out she had blocked me from seeing them anyway. At 10 AM, her friend woke up and tried to wake her up. He noticed she was “gurgling” and was unresponsive. He immediately called 911. When the paramedics got to her, she was declared dead. Her heart had stopped and she wasn’t responding. They performed CPR for 7 minutes until they got a thready pulse from her. They put her on a breathing tube, adrenaline, and all the monitors they could. She died three more times in the ambulance.

 Once she got to the emergency room and did a scan, they discovered one of her lungs had popped, so a tube was placed in her side. Her chances of living were 50/50 at best. She had more vomit in her lungs than anyone thought possible to come back from. 

When the doctor came in to give us the news, the only sound was my mother’s desperate “Oh, God…” We huddled together, waiting, waiting, waiting. We waited while they put her in a coma and lowered her temperature to as low as they could. As we sat, Mom clung to the stuffed animal I brought for my sister, using it as a surrogate for the daughter she couldn’t hold. We all sat nearly silently as we processed and grieved in our individual ways. My dad sighed, my mom cried, and me… I didn’t even know what to do. I clung to my boyfriend as fresh waves of emotion crashed over me. He was my beacon, my floatation device that prevented me from sinking down into my despair. I cried, I paced, and I cried some more. Every time someone spoke, fresh tears welled in my eyes.

When the doctors finally finished getting my sister on a bed and hooked up to all the machines, we were allowed to go see her. The image of my baby sister on that bed will forever haunt me. There was blood on her face, her eyes were swollen. But the most horrifying part was her skin. It was one thing to know what had happened, but to be able to physically see it was terrifying. Her skin was grey with a blue tone. She looked dead already. I gently put her stuffed animal under her hand and kissed her forehead before they wheeled her away to the Intensive Care Unit.

Leaving her room, the shock really set in. It really was my sister in there. There was no mistaken identity, no mix-ups. My little sister was lying in the hospital on Death’s doorstep. My mom, dad, and I huddled together outside of her room and held each other up as we cried. Never before have I seen my parents so broken. Never before have I felt so lost. There was nothing we could do but wait.

“When is it going to get easy?” I heard my mom wail through her tears. “When do we get to catch a break?” All I could do was cry and hug her, because I had the same questions. When would it get easy for us? After everything we had been through, why couldn’t we catch a break?

For six days we waited in the ICU. For six days we took shifts, making sure she was never alone. For six days we prayed and hoped and waited for her to wake up out of her coma. Every day the nurses yelled at her, trying to get her to open her eyes. Every day I read to her and held her hand, holding back tears so she wouldn’t hear how sad I was. For six days, we lived at the East Bay Medical Center of Fairfield, surrounded by nurses and doctors, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. For six days I called my therapist, called my friends, and fought the notion that I was the worst sister in the world. For six days, we waited.

The morning my sister woke up, her dog jumped onto my bed. I had been staying with my dad for the past couple of days since his house was less of a drive than mine. At 10:13 on a Tuesday morning, Ginger woke up minutes before my dad knocked on the door. He came in and shook me lightly as he said the most wonderful words I could have hoped for.

“She woke up!”

This time when I cried, the tears were not bitter with loss, but sweet with the hope of recovery. My baby sister had woken up! After six days in a coma, she was going to make it. Then relief I felt was indescribable. The weight that had been sitting on my chest finally lifted and I felt like I could take a breath for the first time.

The next few days only looked up as we met with neurologists, speech therapist, social workers, and cardiologists. They all said the same thing. She was lucky to be alive, and even luckier to have the minimal damage she had. I had never before been so overjoyed to see my little sister’s green eyes glaring up at me when I wouldn’t let her use my phone. I had never been so thrilled to have my hands swatted away when I tried to fuss over her blankets. She was back. My baby sister was back with us.

At 11:47 PM, the world slows down as I think about the past three months and all the trials it brought me.

Although these horribly tragic things happen, we must grow and learn from them as best we can. My uncle taught me that family is the most important thing. That no matter where in life we all stand, we have each other to rely on. His death gave us the one thing he always would have wanted -- unity. We came together in a time of grief and held each other up in our movement forward.

My sister taught me to appreciate my mortality and how to prop myself up when faced with heartbreak. I never would have thought I could get through something like this, yet I did. The strength I showed to myself surprised me, and taught me how much I can handle in my struggle forward. She showed me how I can make smarter choices and live my life to the fullest.

We still have a long way to go in recovery. My sister, my mom, my dad, me. We all have places we need to get out of, and directions we need to change. Though my sister’s will be the most eventful recovery, we all have a road to take. All we can do is support each other and do our best as we continue together.

[nomdeplumes-blog1]

A Fallen December

Awaken by the intriguing aroma of chocolate chip pancakes, my grandma called up the stairs to me “Jacob, breakfast is ready darling”. I quickly hurried down the stairs like a 5 year old on Christmas morning. Strange that an 18 year old boy would be so anxious just to eat, but who am I kidding, all we boys do is eat.

Soon enough, my mother and father stroll into the kitchen with my little four year old brother Lucas trailing not far behind. “Good Morning everyone” said my mother, I simple reply back with “good morning mom”. My grandfather quietly reading the sports section of the newspaper to see how his Toronto Maple Leafs are doing. My father suddenly joins him. My little brother crawls up into his high chair, which he is a little too big for now. His mouth watering for the pancakes, My mother getting her morning tea, and me… just as excited to eat as my little brother. While Lucas and I stuff our faces full with Chocolatey-Doughy goodness, my mother says to all of us “you guys excited for our annual Christmas in the Park walk” I boringly reply with an exhausted and sarcastic “Can’t wait!!”

My mother sighs and tells me to get In the Christmas Spirit but I told her

“It’s hard to get in the Christmas spirit when you’re a thousand miles away and not with your friends”

My mother just laughed at me and said

“Son, the only thing you need during the holiday season is the warmth and love from your family”.  

In a way, she is right, and with her birthday being tomorrow, I knew I had to stay in her good books. Christmas time was always special for my family. Between my mother’s birthday on the 22nd, visiting my grandparents and all the big dinners, we definitely had our plates full.

We always participated on the Christmas in the park walk on the 23rd of December, to kind of tie all of our celebrations together before Christmas Eve. For my brother, even though he didn’t know it, Santa was going to be at the park, taking pictures and asking kids what they wanted for Christmas, just like all the malls in the world do. As our family wanders through the brightly and festively lit park, Lucas spots Jolly Old Saint Nick from down the path, he enthusiastically screams

“Mommy, mommy, It’s Santa, Lets go”.

Lucas quickly scurries off before my mom can even grab his hand.

As Lucas sprints with all his might to the line waiting for Santa, he gets mixed in amongst the many delusional kids who actually think that a man who fly’s around the world in a slay pulled by reindeer in one night delivering presents to each house is actually real. In a scrum with squirming and raised voices between parents and kids, my mom is trying to find that little blond haired kid. She starts yelling

“Lucas, Lucas honey” followed by “Lucas Where are you?”  Still no answer.

My mother soon starts to ask my father and I to look for Lucas in the crowd. We find nothing, my mother starts to panic. We then surround the area looking for anywhere that Lucas may have gone. We ask nearby parents and their kids, still nothing. Shortly after, everyone in the park is looking for my little brother. 1 hour goes by…nothing. 2 hours go by…nothing. Next thing we know almost 4 hours since we last saw my little brother. In my head, I am just praying that he is playing a game of hide and seek with mom. But deep in the back of my mind, the only thoughts that are coming to me…Lucas has been Kidnapped.

Immediately we call police and report Lucas missing. My mom starts screaming

“It’s my fault, it’s all my fault”

I try to console her but even my words and thoughts are just as jumbled as anyone else. With my mom in a state of shock, I described to the police that my brother was a

“Small, 4 year old boy. With blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes, oh and he also has a scar on the left side of his chin that stretches to his lip, umm he was wearing a red coat with a black patch on the side I think, I don’t know what side I can’t remember, just please help find my brother”

“We will be sending the amber alert to all of the local news stations, newspapers and radio stations around the town; we are going to do everything we can to bring home your little brother”

I steadily weep as I feel that the disappearance of my brother is somehow my fault, with that weight on my shoulder burdening my every thought and action to a grueling tee, I had no other thought in my mind that what I needed to do was help as much as I could to find my brother. As much as I can’t stand to think of it, whoever took my brother from us, doesn’t know that he has asthma, and also doesn’t know that he has a severe peanut butter allergy, for all I know my brother could be laying dead in a garbage bag in some rotten and forgotten dumpster in a back alley somewhere.

*knock knock*

My mother who hasn’t slept in near two weeks springs from her seat at 6:34 pm on a Wednesday night; to open the door to the police and one of the detectives working on my brother’s case.

“We are going to need you to identify some articles of clothing that may belong to Lucas Mrs. Smith, can you help us” said the detective to my mother.

“Yes of course”

When shown the articles of clothing my mother responds with a desperate

“No, No, *Sobbing*, Nope, N-, wait...”

“Is there a piece of clothing you recognize Mrs.?”

“That’s Lucas’ coat, that’s his coat, THAT’S HIS COAT” screams my mother with tears running down her face. My mother flips the coat over and this is where my mother truly lost all hope.

“Please tell me that isn’t…*sobbing and anger building up* no, no it can’t be. It isn’t!”

“Mrs. Smith, we found this jacket 4 kilometres in perimeter to where your son went missing, and when we discovered the coat, there was also a pair of bloody socks along with the bloody coat. But Mrs. we need you to be calm and stay positive, I know it might be har-“

“*crying uncontrollably* you do not tell me to be calm, and stay positive. Let me ask you this officer, do you have any children?”

“*sighs* yes, I have a 3 year old girl and a boy on the way”

“And you love them very much, am I right?”

“I see where you are going with this Mrs. But unt-“

“until you go through what I am going through, you have no right to tell me to be calm, this is a parent’s worst nightmare, and it is happening right now, to me; not you…ME. You find this son of a bitch or else I will find them myself”

“We will do whatever we can; we have set up a tips hotline for anybody that has any information on Lucas and where he might be”

The residents of Steamboat Springs Colorado decided to hold a candle light vigil for my brother in an attempt to bring the community together and rally behind my family at this difficult time. The people who put this on want myself and my mother and father to say a few words that may help anyone with the whereabouts of my brother. You might wonder why I seem so calm, in regards to what is going on around me. Personally…my mom is a complete wreck, alongside my father and grandparents, but me, I spend every day with that little guy, I am his role model, mentor and big brother to say the least. I know that Lucas would want me to be strong, and have hope for him. For my parents sake, as much as I am crying myself to sleep at night waiting for that knock on the door with my brother waiting there, I need to be strong for myself, my parents especially, and Lucas, because I know he is counting on me to be strong for him.

While at the vigil I noticed people of all ages paying their respects to us, leaving flowers and toys. While my mother was up on the stand giving her speech, I noticed a blonde lady, standing in the back left corner of the crowd, she just seemed out of place; sort of like the odd one out. Later in the night as the vigil was concluding and everyone was leaving, the same women who I found to be peculiar and odd filed into the line to give my mother and I hugs and spread her love. But when she reached the front of the line, I was quite baffled as to her words of “love”

“I am so sorry for your loss”

said the weird mysterious blonde woman. My mother didn’t know what to say because there had been no word of Lucas’ body being found dead, and usually those are the words you say when someone has died, this rose a high amount of suspicion in my eyes. The blonde woman then hugged my mother and proceeded to walk off into the dimly lit street. My mother seemed concerned as to why the woman would say that, but with all the other things going on, that was the least of her worries.

A day later, my father and I had run to the local supermarket to get some groceries for home, when in the corner of my eye, I noticed the same blonde woman in the children’s food aisle. Buying apple sauce and yogurt. What really stood out to me was what she was holding in her left hand; the lady had maybe 2 or 3 hangers filled with children’s clothes. It seemed odd to me as both times I have seen this woman; she has never had a kid with her. I had an eerie feeling about this woman, and I trusted my instinct on it. I told my dad the story about the night at the vigil and he reluctantly believed me that I thought something was up. As she checked out of the store and proceeded to her car, I took down her license plate number on my phone. I asked my dad just to follow her where she goes (out of curiosity of course). She then ended up driving to a house just out of town that had a red barn in the field surrounding the house, the place was kind of on its own, the next neighbour, not too close but not too far. The lady proceeded to carry her groceries and children’s clothes into the house. But soon after 3 or 4 minutes, she then got back into her car and drove back into town to a small little townhouse just a block away from where my grandparents lived. She then went inside and didn’t come out. I took down the side road number of the barn house, as well as the address that she finished at. I took both of those addresses to the police and told them my curiosity behind the whole thing. One address turned up to a lady named Shelly Stevens, and the other came up under Robert Stevens. I found it hard to believe that the two last names were just a coincidence. Turns out that Shelly Stevens was Robert Steven’s daughter. Later at the house, I stumbled into conversation with my grandmother and I asked her if she knew who Robert Stevens was. She paused and asked why I would ask that. I then continued to ask her if she knew who Shelly Stevens was; she paused and asked me if I was okay.

“I’m fine grammy, but can you answer those questions for me please”

“I grew up with Robert Stevens, he was born and raised here, an odd fellow I must say, my friends and I always thought he was strange. He got into some pretty bad trouble when he graduated high school though”

“What kind of trouble gran?”

“He got charged of rape and murder of a 5 year old girl, but never got convicted, for some reason, everybody in the town knew he did it, but the evidence never added up to prove that Robert was the one. We were all shocked when the verdict came out. Since then he has lived out in some old barn house on route 53”

“Is his daughter Shelly?”

“Yes, he had Shelly maybe a year before the murder trial happened. She knows all about her father’s past yet she still seems to love him as if nothing happened”

*Phone rings*

“Hello?”

“Hi Jacob, Its officer Lee, we have a potential lead on the case”

“Well what is it?!”

“A lady was walking down the street when she saw a middle aged woman carry her baby into the backseat of her car, but she recognized the baby, and when we questioned her, the description of the baby matched Lucas’ description perfectly”

“Well did she take the license plate number down?”

“Yes, she did…Jacob, we would like for you to come down to the police department as soon as you can”

“I’m on my way” *Jacob Hangs up*

When I got to the Police Office, Officer Lee called me into his office immediately. He proceeded to tell me that the license plate number on the car, matched the one of Shelly Stevens, the same license plate I took down at the supermarket. They  also received another tip that Shelly Steven’s car was parked at her father Robert’s house approximately 20 minutes later, seen entering the house with the child that matched the description of Lucas.

“Is there any way we can search their houses or bring them in for questioning?”

“That’s what we are going to do, we are going to get Shelly right now for questioning, I suggest you go home and stay patient. Detective Bryce will inform your parents on the current situation”

Apparently, when Shelly was brought in for questioning, she seemed to know a little bit too much for what the police was asking her. The one thing that got the detectives extremely giddy is when she proclaimed that she had never seen the baby in her life, and maybe half an hour later they asked her the same question, and she said that she hasn’t seen the baby since the night he disappeared. Which places her at the scene of the crime, and in the correct timeframe in which Lucas went missing. The police then got a warrant for her arrest; they then searched the house and found a large amount of children’s food, a high chair, and children’s clothes. When asked if she had any children she replied with a no, but she then later started to talk about how 4 years prior, she was pregnant with a man’s baby who raped her and ended up abandoning her, a single mother to be with only her father to help her. Unfortunately Shelly Stevens had a miscarriage. It was her dream to be able to give life to a child, and when this happened it enflamed her. She then admitted to going into deep depression and claimed that all the children’s items at home are for the baby she never had. But I then thought to myself, why she would still be buying baby food and clothing. The police then searched her father’s house where they found the Holy Grail. The officer on the search found a hidden closet behind the fridge that contained a staircase leading to a basement underneath the house. When the officers went into the basement they found even more children’s clothes, a crib, strollers and pairs of shoes. The detectives and forensic scientists analysed the scene. When searching the clothing for any clues, one of the officers saw one thing that opened his eyes. A pair of initials on the inside tongue of a size 3 shoe, labelled L.S and I do not believe that that was a fluke of some chance. The police now had arrested both Shelly and Robert Stevens, but they needed more proof to convict them on the kidnapping of Lucas. The police showed up to the house with pictures that we would need to identify as property of Lucas or not. Most of the pictures were irrelevant, except for the necklace that I got Lucas for his baptism. Gold cross that he wore every day. We then knew that Lucas was in that house somewhere, or had been there. When brought into questioning, Shelly claimed that she didn’t know anything and continued to deny it. When her father was questioned, he replied with

“You aint gonna find shit”

“Oh we have already found plenty, JUST TELL US WHERE HE IS!”

Screamed Officer Lee. Robert Stevens just chuckled, and gave a disgusting smirk right into Officer Lee’s face. I then remembered something that I think would help. The barn house that was on the property, there could be clues in there. When the police searched the barn house the first time all they found were hay bales stacked up against a wall in a disorganized way. When moving the hay bales a second time, there was a grate on the ground that had a handle on it. When it opened up, all we could see were bloody children’s clothes, and hair snippets everywhere. The thought that my brother was dead, had become a realization when I saw a tee shirt of his on the ground and a pile of blonde curly hair. While investigating this tunnel that seemed that it ran for miles, we found a trapped door that had a lock on it. When the lock was clipped, we heard a massive scream

“HELP ME, DON’T HURT ME”

There he was, my four year old brother, beaten black and blue, and crying his eyes out. I instantly started crying and crumbled to my knees. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Lucas was scared to even look at me. It had been near a month that he was missing.

Shelly Steven’s admitted that she kidnapped Lucas at the park for the sole reason to make up for her lost child; she even stated that Lucas was her dream child and wanted to raise him as her own. Robert Stevens claims he had no involvement in the kidnapping. The case being solved brought an extended amount of joy to my family and the people around us, yet I feel that things will never be the same as they were.

Shelly Stevens pled guilty to kidnapping and received a 25 to life sentence.

She then committed suicide in her cell 5 years into her sentence.

Robert Stevens pled not guilty to the kidnapping but was found guilty and received 15 years.

Robert ended up dying in his cell due to heart attack at age 74.