1.28 Here's my heart, I want you to have it

After Anna had finished telling her story, Benjamin stood there for a few moments, not saying a single word. Seconds passed by way too slowly, and Anna started wondering what was going on in her husband’s mind. He blinked. Once, twice, three times. A small tear ran down his cheek, then another. While she reached out to wipe them off his face, she suddenly realized her own face was wet; her lips tasted salty.  Until now, she hadn’t noticed that she had been crying, but as soon as she felt the tears on her skin, she wondered how she could have missed them before. As if Benjamin knew what was going on in her head, he pulled her into a close hug and held her for minutes. Both of them stood there, crying silently, yet comforting each other without saying a word. When Anna finally pulled back, her back already aching from the uncomfortable stretch, Benjamin caressed her face and smiled. His eyes still glistened with the last tears, but she could also see something else. Pride.

After this day, the spirit of the family changed noticeably. Benjamin hadn’t exactly been a stranger to the kids for a very long time, but now they felt that he was a part of them, especially of their mother. She was happy around him, and her wrinkly eyes lit every time she sat next to him, held his hand or even looked at him. The children appreciated of their mother’s new felicity, not only because it allowed them to be themselves, as well. Billy discovered his talent for fishing, and spent all of his weekly allowance on a small pond in their backyard. Standing there, holding a fishing pole and looking onto the calm water, filled him with a feeling of peace he had never experienced before.

Anna still spent a lot of time in her small garden, always experimenting with new plants and different kinds of fertilizer. To her, it seemed like she had sown almost every kind of plant at least once in her life. A few were still missing, and she could often be found creeping around the house, looking for new seeds. One afternoon, she had found one that had looked particularly odd, and she had taken it home. Until now, nothing had grown out of it, but she didn’t give up just yet.

Before she knew it, a special day in her children’s life had arrived – prom. Birdy and Billy ran from room to room the entire afternoon, hysterically looking for make-up (Birdy), hair gel (Billy), a curling iron (Birdy), the new bow tie (Billy). When Anna watched her two oldest children run off to the limo, she swallowed hard. None of them had a date to take to prom, but she hoped it wouldn’t stay that way. Both of them deserved a marvelous evening, and a wonderful person at their side.

There was not much time for being sentimental, though, because it was Britney’s birthday that very evening. Her siblings had been sad that they wouldn’t be able to be there, but Anna, Benjamin and Beth made sure that Britney had the perfect night nevertheless.

As a teen, she resembled her father more than her mother, especially the mouth and nose were his. If it hadn’t been for her peculiar and bright eyes, ­­­­­it would have been hard to tell that she was Anna’s daughter at all from the outside. 

The delicious cake Anna had prepared for the birthday girl was eaten in silence. All of a sudden, each and every one of them felt that two important members of the family were not with them to celebrate this unique day. Benjamin tried to lighten the mood with a few jokes, that even made Britney smile for a moment, but that didn’t last long.

The next morning before school, Birdy and Billy were still exhilarated. They’d had a great time at prom, and even though they hadn’t gone there with a date, it had been the best day of their lives. At first, Britney sat at the dining table with them, listening to their talk, but when Birdy repeatedly mentioned the fun they’d had, Britney got up, ran into the bedroom she still shared with Beth and slammed the door. For the next few days, the vibe between the two girls was rather tense, but got back to normal after that.

But Birdy and Britney weren’t the only two thinking about this particular evening long after it had been over. Anna had watched her third child grow into a teenager, and it filled her with pride. Three of them were independent and unique personalities already, and Beth was the only one she could still cuddle and hold in her arms whenever she felt like it. She wanted to be needed once more. And that’s when she made a decision, regardless of her and Benjamin’s age.

On a sunny day, a few weeks after Britney’s birthday, Barbra Vocis came into their life. 

Author's notes: I swear, when I opened CAS and saw Britney as a teen, I almost fell off the couch, and let out a cry of dismay. I had imagined her...differently. Is it mean to say "prettier"? Well...it's true. It wasn't easy to find a hairstyle that suited her face, but I hope I did a good job ;) Barbra, after Barbra Streisand, is the last addition to the family. It now consists of five children, three of which are already teenagers. Two more and Anna's LTW (which had changed quite some time ago) is fulfilled. She's also not that far from fulfilling the objections of her generation!

In my game, I'm already in Gen 2, which is why I need to catch up quickly. When I was on holiday, I played for three days straight, and there are about 800 pictures waiting for me now. 

Today's post is closed with two Britney-Outtakes!

Britney directly after she aged up. I love that hairstyle, but..... :-( 

"Grace" is probably the first word that comes to mind.

1.27 I couldn't stand it [2]

He took another step towards me, and then squeezed my arm. It hurt, but I couldn’t say anything. When he pulled me closer, I silently begged him to make it quick. Tears started streaming down my face, and he, leaning in to kiss me, disgustedly drew back. Then he slapped my face and demanded that I stopped crying. When I couldn’t do what he told me to, he reluctantly let go of me and told me he’d be back the next day. Until then I was supposed to pull myself together, or I would regret it terribly. 

That night, I was so scared that I told my father what had happened. I knew he wasn’t happy about my mother’s lifestyle choices, and thought he would do something to protect me. But I was very wrong. From that day on, I was forced to stay in my room the entire day, except when I was going to school. I was too childish for my age, he said. I had to learn that life wasn’t always about things we wanted, he said.

My mother kept meeting strange men and making out with them in our house. Sometimes I peeked through the keyhole of my door to see who was out there, but I never recognized anybody.

One afternoon, when I secretly sneaked outside my room to run to the bathroom – my bathroom visits for the day were already exhausted -, I ran into one of the men. It was an old one, and he had been around the house for a few days now. He smiled at me and then stared at my cleavage. I could see a bump rising in his pants, and suddenly I felt the same panic that had risen inside of me the last time one of the men wanted to do something with me. But this one wasn’t going to hurt me. I fled into my room, slamming the door and locking it. 

Months passed, maybe even years. I spent the mornings at school, and the afternoons and nights in my room, not leaving it once. Too bad were the memories of running around the house while male visitors were there. My eighteenth birthday arrived without me even noticing. Suddenly I was done with school, and I was done with being a child. Now that I was an adult, I was finally able to move out of this house, to run away from this town. Even though I had no idea how to do this, or when, it felt incredibly good to know that I would be able to escape at some point. It gave me new strength, too, and when the old man came around again and lasciviously smiled at me, I took a step forward and I punched him really hard. This was for all the times I had been hurt. 

My mother, hearing the commotion in the living room, came running and saw us, being in the middle of a fight. Instead of helping me or at least staying out of everything, he helped him get up and told him to wait in the bedroom. Then she slapped my face until I could barely feel my cheeks anymore and demanded an apology. She didn’t get one. Instead, I turned around, walked into my room, took my guitar, put it into a bag big enough, went through the living room and left the house. I knew I would never return to it, but that didn’t make me sad. I was free.

I didn’t make it very far, though. On the bridge that separated the two parts of the town my father found me. He had run after me, and, being an excellent athlete, it hadn’t taken him very long to catch up with me. In all those years of suppression, I had never seen him this angry. He shouted at me the entire time. The strength I had felt at home was gone now, fear had taken its place. 

During the fight we moved a little on the bridge, and suddenly I realized that the deep sea was directly behind me. If he pushed me now, I would fall and no one would be there to save me. My life would end before I had a chance to start it probably. I would never fall in love, I would never hold a baby in my arms, I would never be happy.

All those thoughts were running through my head, while my father proceeded to shout at me aggressively. The hatred in his eyes made him incalculable. He probably would do it. He would push me.

His fists were clenched the entire time, and when he relaxed them for only a few seconds, I made a decision.

I turned around and ran.

Some miles away, an elder woman in car, who was passing by on her way home, slowed down to my speed, rolled down her window and offered me her help. At that point, I was exhausted from the long run, and I accepted her invitation. She brought me to a small motel right outside town, which belonged to her son and his wife. She talked to him for a few minutes, persuading him to let me stay there for some nights. He reluctantly agreed, and I fell into bed, tired and feeling empty. 

***

The next few days seemed to go by so quickly – I slept almost the entire time and barely went outside. When I did, I hurried along the streets, looking around the entire time. They could still find me here, and I had to change something about myself. One day, I went to a hairdresser, asking him to cut my hair and show me some hair styles I could easily do myself. Maybe one week later, I went outside again, and headed for a tattoo salon. There were some things about my life that I wanted to express without any words, and so I decided to have a butterfly on my back, standing for freedom. I also chose a heart on my leg, expressing the love I was hoping to find. Leaving the salon afterwards, I really felt free for a few minutes. But at night, in bed, it hit me. This wasn’t over, I could feel it. And I was right.

 ***

Only a few nights later, I heard a strange noise. It sounded like somebody was trying to open the window from outside, while making as little noise as possible. Thinking that it was probably just a dream, I didn’t do anything, but kept my eyes closed and continued sleeping. The next thing I heard was my door banging. This definitely was no longer a dream. When I opened my eyes, all I could see was a lurid orange wall in front of me. Only then did I realize how hot the room was. Fire. The room was on fire. 

***

Hastily, I jumped out of bed and grabbed my guitar, which was standing right next to me. There was no way to reach the door, it was behind the wall out of fire. My only chance to escape from death was to jump out of the window, which was not completely closed. I pulled it open, already finding it hard to breath, then threw the guitar onto the grass and jumped. 

***

When the fire department arrived, I was already gone. I dragged myself from street to street, not knowing where to go. They had found me once, they most certainly would find me a second time if I stayed around here. I had to leave, and never come back.   

 ***

When I entered Appaloosa Plains for the first time, almost starved and so tired that I could barely walk any more, I saw a few signs that read FOR SALE. Maybe this was where I was supposed to be, I thought. Maybe I was meant to buy one of these little properties with the money I had earned in my childhood, and start a new life in this town.

And so I did. I spent all of the money I had and bought this small property we’re standing on right now. The moment I first stood right over there, where my mailbox is now, I could feel it. This was my life. I only had this one chance, and I’d better not screwed it up. My name was the only thing that remained from my old life, and this was the way it was supposed to be.

1.26 I couldn't stand it [1]

Warning: partly contains explicit language. Don't tell me I didn't warn you! 

In my childhood, I haven’t exactly been happy. My mother made it her job to entertain as many men as possible, sometimes even a few at the same time. She dressed accordingly and put on a lot of makeup, just for them. We fought a lot about this job of hers, because the men weren’t very nice to me. She didn’t believe a word I said, and slapped me almost every time I mentioned my feelings. They didn’t matter to her.

Sometimes I was very scared of my mother. I wasn’t the only one she didn’t care about, though. The men she had fun with often had families who loved them. She took them away from them. Many men made the way between the front door and her bedroom during my childhood.

My father, her husband, was not home much. He worked as an athlete, and spent a lot of time in the gym. Being in great shape mattered to him, and when he came home, he expected a warm and nice dinner on the kitchen table, and a hot wife waiting for him in bed to satisfy his needs. She didn’t work that way, and he hated it. A couple of times a week they fought loudly in the living room, while I tried to do my homework in the bedroom. You could barely call it that, since it only consisted of a very cheap bed. Nothing else, not even a table to do my homework on, or a closet. I had been given a few clothes to wear to school, and that was it. My parents didn’t want to waste any more money on me.

The only thing they ever spent money on was my beloved guitar. They had bought it for my twelfth birthday, demanding that I pay half of it with the money I had made by working as a papergirl. I had started that job when I was ten. The guitar allowed me to let my thoughts flow through my head, without any restrictions. I picked the strings, heard the melodies coming from them and felt the notes in my entire body. The guitar was the only thing that made me feel alive at home.

While my father became more and more aggressive, my mother became more promiscuous. She invited men over every single day, sometimes even two or three a day. It didn’t really matter how they looked, she needed them to make her feel wanted. This was not about love, not even romantic attraction. Pure lust controlled her during those ‘dates’, and the men willingly followed her into bed where I could hear them for hours.

Whenever a man left the house afterwards, hastily putting his shirt back into his pants and zipping up his shoes, he shot me a look when passing me. I saw those looks, but I refused to react to them. It was hard enough to see my mother giving her soul away, this would never happen to me.

One night, it got worse. She had brought a man home who had been with her for a couple of times. He cornered me when they were done, licking his lips and smiling at me in a way that made me want to run away. When he was standing right in front of me, I looked at him, trying not to show how scared I was. He raised a hand to run it through my hair, and I suppressed a scream. At that moment, I was really scared of this man. My mother was still in the bedroom, my father was at work – there was nobody in the house who would be willing to help me.