Breathing was so hard, she could almost feel her lungs ripping apart. But this pain was nothing compared to what she had felt at nearly all stages of her life; this feeling of not belonging, of loneliness…

She had never had any friends of her own. She had stopped going to school at 16; a ‘request’ from her mother. Even at school, she was rejected by everyone. No one would come near her. Being a black was considered to be a sin, and every eye that watched her glared at her with disdain.

But there was one pair of eyes that never looked at her like that. The same that had saved her. Where was she? She looked around her. The last thing she remembered was her falling and a pair of hazel eyes. She heard the door open in came the most beautiful creature she’s ever seen in her life.

A little girl. She mustn’t have been more than 6 or 7 years old. She had this curly blond hair and yes, those hazel eyes. They were somewhat different but she felt familiar with them. A new feeling was born from within. What was it?

“Dad asked me to come and check on you. Are you hungry?”

She nodded and it was the beginning of a new life. The long evenings she spent talking to her, her first smiles, her first laughs, her first friend… But she had never seen ‘Dad’ though. She heard about him, a lot. They were in almost in all the sentences the little girl made. She wondered if the new life growing in her would be like her. As warm, as kind.

Days passed and her life had taken a whole new turn. It was time for her to leave the bed and start all over again. But first of all, it was time to meet ‘Dad’.
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Tic, tac, tic, tac… The seconds were counting; time was coming for the Angel of Death to take her away from this material world. Even breathing was difficult right now; for each breath of air she took, an acute pain in the chest she felt.

A drop of tear could be seen running down up to her ear. Unable to move, she lay on her death bed, with sole occupation to go over her life, once again.

“Allirea! Where are you?! Come down here, immediately!”

“Coming mother, coming.”

And she was welcomed by a slap on her face.

“What are you doing here? And… what’s that in your hand?”

She was referring to the book the teenager was holding in her hand.

“A test? Why do you need to go to school? You already have a job and you should thank Mr Jacy for that. Ungrateful bitch! You’re just as worthless as your father.”

“Thank him? Or thank you for having slept with him?!”

And she was answered by yet another slap…

Her childhood had always been full of beatings and slaps and insults. So had been her teenage life. And Jacy… How she remembered him… Too well, to tell you the truth though, she hadn’t thought of him in months.

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She wanted everything to be perfect. She had already left Kiyoshi at her mother’s place. The latter had been more than happy to take care of the child. Why wouldn’t she? Barely three, her son was the sweetest child ever. What every mother thinks, you’d say? But yet, he was.

He always listened when he was talked to, and could give the most amazing answers, considering his age. He was her most precious gift… She casted away this thought quickly. Today, she’ll not be the mother she is, neither a daughter, nor a wife. Today, she is the woman she’d always been deep inside.

She looked around her. It almost seemed like a dream, but it was just her hard work glaring down at her. A table for two in the middle of the room, a solid white sheet on it, and another smaller one; blood red, placed diagonally. She almost laughed at the fact that they had chosen red tapestry for the house, and that played in her favour. A single red rose along with scented candles were placed in the middle. She had taken out her silverware out, and yes, the wine glasses… She had used them at her wedding… Keep reading…

She sat there, a pen in her hand but staring at that blank paper before her. She wanted to write, oh how she yearned to. Writing was said to be her gift, bestowed to her by the angels of above. Writing was her escape to another world, where only she ruled. But first of all, writing was her passion.

With that imagination of hers, every secret opened to her, every world welcomed her and every creature kneeled before her. She was the master, she was the creator and she was the savior. God you’d say? No, she wasn’t. Just a mere peasant making a life out of pen and paper.

But… yeah, a ‘but’ had to butt in… Calliope had deserted her. Her Muse in which she had so much faith, she was no more. When had she discovered this? Was it when she had at last managed to put all these problems behind and start over again? Was it when everything had just started going wrong? Or was it when she held that pen in her hand?

A tear rolled down her cheek. Jesus, how she had changed. Memories starting to flow, there was no way she could hold them back…

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