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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1798001-Specials---Prologue
Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Tragedy · #1798001
A Year Ago - Liana and her mother depart separate ways.
"This is it, Liana.” My mother, Helen Fuller, whispered in my ear. Her voice and presence was the only calming thing I had, when my stomach churned with anxiety and stress. This is it, Liana. Her voice echoed in my mind, replaying it over and over again. On top of that, my own voice overlapped her voice saying this is it, Lily, creating a harmony of our voices.

As the voices gradually subsided, I turned to my mother. “Mom, please take care,” I said as I tried to fight back tears. I rejected them all, thinking to myself that I had to be strong, or I can’t hold the job.

Mother only nodded, her eyes blurry, but she didn’t cry. Maybe she had the same attitude as me. She gave me a big hug, as both of our gold locks collided, mine darker than hers. She kissed my forehead, and smiled in a sad and gentle way as she stepped away. Maybe she couldn’t have enough strength to resist the tears; one river of a tear formed down her right cheek.

She took a deep, shaky breath, and finally said, “I’m so proud of you, Liana, taking this job to protect our home, even though you’re still sixteen... Sixteen! You should be having fun with your friends! But instead you choose to work, to protect us!” Her voice became close a yell. “Oh it’s entirely my fault… If Dad and I got better jobs than some charity office, then we wouldn’t have you making such decision –“ She tried to find things to blame herself, but I interrupted her.

“Mom, it’s definitely not your fault... It’s because of your so-called charity company who doesn’t even give charity to their own workers. It’s also the other companies that didn’t hire you just because you didn’t have the proper experience! Oh, oh, and it’s that Wiener’s fault too! How dare he intrude our home like that!” I raised my voice. It was filled with all the anger I had towards the unfair and cruel world. Wiener was a nickname for Bob Wenner, a real estate man who told us to sell the house if we couldn’t afford it anymore. He kept knocking on our door until I suggested that I take a job.

Since the wages in the charity company that my parents worked were so low, we were always living through a slim budget; slim enough that it might vanish easily.

Fighting the urge to cry, I took several breaths, calming myself, then, “Love you, Mom. As I always will. Tell Dad that I’ll miss him very much. And I love our home. I’ll do anything, absolutely anything to protect us.”

Mother nodded again, and I saw the corners of her lips curve. She seemed to be fighting herself into a smile, though what she actually wanted to do was to weep out loud.

She finally seemed to give up as many more tears formed and streamed down her cheeks.

She hugged me again. “Love you too.” She said for the last time, and strode off. I knew that walking all the way home is a very far distance. That was why I chose to work here as a maid. So that one day, my family would be able to afford a car. But now, I had to worry about them being able to eat three times a day.

A butterfly passed above my head, and soared into the great, blue sky. I turned to the large house in front of me, and stepped forward.

My luggage didn’t slow my determination.

This is it, Lily.

© Copyright 2011 Ishanaz (isha518 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1798001-Specials---Prologue