Theme: sentimental Peeta, lovely dovey and longing
Peeta Mellark noticed her long before the world did.
It was a rainy afternoon in District 12, and the classroom windows blurred with streaks of water as a dreary lesson droned on.
He could recall the lesson mentioning something about what the Capitol valued from each District. And by ‘valued’ everyone knew it was supposed to mean what they forced the Districts to provide.
Peeta sat near the back, hands dusted with faint flour from his family’s bakery. Left over icing from this mornings work stained his fingers in bold colours.
He wasn’t paying attention to the teacher. He never really did when she was there.
Katniss Everdeen sat three rows ahead, near the window, her face turned slightly away from the rest of the class.
Her dark braid hung over her shoulder like a thread of midnight. She wasn’t taking notes. Her eyes were dull and distant as if her mind was somewhere far away, somewhere quieter.
He liked to imagine she was thinking about the woods. That she preferred birdsong and trees to chalk dust and grey walls that coated the classroom.
She never talked much. But sometimes she would answer a question with that steady voice of hers, calm and clear like a stream of water running down the river.
And in those moments, Peeta would hold his breath, hoping the words would last just a little longer.
He remembered when they were younger when she sang. Their teacher asked for a volunteer for a Harvest Festival song, and Katniss had surprised them all.
Her voice had been light and aching, something too beautiful for a room full of tired children and peeling posters. That was the day Peeta knew he’d never really forget her. That he didn’t want to forget anything about her.
He didn’t know how to talk to her. He barely knew how to look at her without giving himself away.
But he watched….quietly, gently….. learning the curve of her smile when she thought no one was watching or how her fingers tensed when someone mentioned the mines.
To Katniss, he was just the baker’s son…. Another boy in her school who had never spoken a word to her before.
But to him, she was the girl who made everything else fade…..the girl who looked like hope in a place that didn’t believe in it.
Long before the Games.
Before fire and rebellion, there was a boy who noticed a girl. And it mattered, even if she’d never know it.
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Themes: Secret marriage on Naboo, tender moments, promises whispered at midnight. (Fluff, foreshadowing angst)
Pairings: Anakin x padme
Story Masterlist
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars and honestly, it’s going to be pretty likely I make mistakes with content/canon events. Please be nice.
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The night air of Naboo was velvet-soft, warm against their skin, scented with distant rain and the sweet bloom of summer flowers. Stars scattered across the heavens like shards of broken glass, glimmering in a sky so vast it made Padmé feel small and yet utterly infinite in his arms.
Anakin’s hand trembled slightly as he brushed a stray brown curl from her cheek. His ceremonial robes, hastily borrowed from the villa’s limited stores, were simple compared to the elaborate tunics of a Jedi Knight or the polished silks Padmé often wore in the Senate.
Tonight, they were just a boy and a girl, standing barefoot in a hidden meadow, surrounded by the songs of crickets and the distant murmur of water.
“Are you sure?”, he asked, voice low and almost broken.
Padmé smiled, heart aching at the way he said it…..not with doubt in her, but in himself. As if he could not believe something so good could be real.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered, reaching up to cradle his face between her palms. “I love you, Anakin. I don’t care about the rules. I don’t care about the war. I don’t care about anything except you.”
He closed his eyes at her touch, the tension in his body easing, if only slightly.
The priest …. wrinkled Gungan who had once blessed the harvests……waited patiently, sensing the gravity of the moment. No grand temple bells, no parade of witnesses. Only them, and the Force, and the stars.
Perhaps in another lifetime as Queen she would have had a lavish wedding with celebrations that lasted for days on end. But she was happy like this. Even though it was in secret, she could t imagine any other way to marry the boy she loved than right here in this moment. 
The old rites were simple, older even than the Republic itself.
“Do you, Anakin Skywalker,” the priest intoned, “swear before the Living Force and this bond of love to walk beside Padmé Amidala, in darkness and in light, in sorrow and in joy, for all the days of your life?”
Anakin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. His blue eyes, wide and earnest, never left hers.
“I swear,” he said hoarsely. “Always. My love, my heart, my soul …..yours.”
Padmé’s breath hitched, tears prickling her lashes.
“And do you, Padmé Amidala, swear before the Living Force and this bond of love to walk beside Anakin Skywalker, in darkness and in light, in sorrow and in joy, for all the days of your life?”
Her voice was steady, even as emotion threatened to crack her open from the inside out.
“I swear. Always. My love, my heart, my soul …. yours.” Her words mirrored his and with every ounce of emotion beading off her tongue she knew that a secret life with him was worth every second.
A simple silver thread, woven from Naboo river-grass and blessed with morning dew, was wrapped around their joined hands. She smiled slightly when it got a little stuck on his metallic hand. He nervously didn’t want to ruin the moment but she only smiled and fixed the threading to fully tie around their hands.
He felt seen. As though she does not love him only because he is a brave Jedi knight…. Because of his fighting skills. But because of who he is. Robotic limbs and all.
In the traditions of the oldest settlers, the threaded ribbon is supposed to symbolise a life entwined. Two people from far off corners of the galaxy, joined as one. It is a promise made not with grand declarations, but with steadfastness, with choice.
As the final words were spoken, the Force itself seemed to pulse softly around them, like the breath of some ancient, unseen witness.
Anakin ignored the feeling, trying to focus solely on his new bride in front of him. He wanted to memorise every moment. Every fleck of sunlight that shone on her skin and her dark eyes.
When the binding was complete, the priest smiled, bowed, and quietly disappeared into the night, leaving them alone beneath the sky.
For a long moment, neither moved. Content.
Then Anakin pulled her to him, gathering her into his arms so tightly it was almost desperate. His forehead pressed to hers, breathing her in, memorizing her, as if anchoring himself to something real before the galaxy could tear them apart.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered fiercely, reverently. “And I’m yours.”
“We always were,” Padmé murmured, threading her fingers through the thick gold of his hair. “Even before we knew it.”
He kissed her…gently at first, then with a rising intensity that stole the breath from her lungs and replaced it with something fierce and aching. His hands tangled in her hair, in her dress, needing to touch, to feel, to believe.
Time slipped away, lost between heartbeats. The meadow around them seemed to vanish, leaving only the soft rush of blood, the beating of hearts, the unbearable sweetness of his mouth against hers.
When at last they broke apart, Anakin rested his forehead against hers again, smiling that rare, open smile he gave only to her.
She looked up at him and saw the sweet boy she fell in love with. Not the fierce Jedi knight.
“No matter what happens,” he vowed softly, “I’ll protect you. I swear it, Padmé. With everything I am.”
Padmé cupped his face, her thumb brushing away a tear he hadn’t realized had fallen.
“And I’ll protect you,” she answered. “Even from yourself, if I must.”
In the meadow, under the endless stars, their silent vows wove themselves into the fabric of the Force. Promises stronger than duty, stronger than fear.
And for that one perfect night, at least, they believed love could conquer anything. The stars wheeled overhead as they stood together, breathing in the hush of their new reality.
Married.
His wife.
Her husband.
The words felt foreign and yet inevitable, like something ancient had clicked into place inside them.
Anakin stroked her hair back from her face, his calloused fingertips feather-light, almost reverent. His eyes were wide and awestruck, like he was seeing her for the first time. And Padmé….. Padmé felt like she was falling into him, weightless and fearless, trusting that he would catch her every time.
“Come with me,” he said, voice rough and low.
Hand in hand, they slipped through the meadow, the grass whispering against their legs. A small villa waited at the edge of the lake where an old stone retreat tucked away from the world, abandoned but lovingly cared for by the handmaidens who adored Padmé. A place safe enough to steal a few precious hours away from duty, from war, from the galaxy.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of cedar and sweet oil lamps. The room was simple: a broad bed heaped with soft linens, an open hearth crackling low, heavy curtains that could be pulled shut to keep the world at bay.
Padmé turned to face him, sudden shyness stealing into her chest.
She knew what of should occur during her wedding night and she long dreamed for Anakin in that way. But having it here in front of her now was so real and unknown.
Anakin hesitated too, his thumb stroking slow, nervous circles on the back of her hand. The firelight caught the gold flecks in his eyes, making them seem almost molten.
“Padmé,” he breathed, voice breaking slightly. “We don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she interrupted softly, squeezing his hand. “I want everything with you.”
Anakin’s breath caught. His hands framed her waist, tentative, waiting for her to move first. She rose up on her toes and kissed him…slowly, deeply as if she was pouring all the aching, overwhelming love she felt into the space between them.
He groaned low in his throat, kissing her back with a hunger that made her knees weaken. His hands slid up her back, then down, mapping her curves like he needed to memorize every inch of her.
He finally had her. His angel. And he was not letting go.
When they parted for air, they were both trembling.
“Are you sure?” he whispered again, voice raw with emotion. “Because once I start…”
She smiled and reached for the fastenings of his tunic.
“I married you, didn’t I?” she teased gently. “I’m yours, Anakin. Completely.”
His answering groan was almost a growl, low and desperate.
Clothing fell away piece by piece, scattered like petals across the floor. Anakin moved carefully, reverently, as if she were made of starlight and silk.
His hands worshipped her, slow and tender, trailing fire over her skin. Padmé gasped as he traced the hollow of her throat, the soft curve of her waist, the delicate bones of her hips. She shivered when he used his metallic hand to do the same, the coldness of the metal only adding to the sensation.
He paused to press a kiss to the small scar on her shoulder…..a wound from a blaster bolt years ago, during an assassination attempt. She shivered at the feel of his mouth there, the way he honored even her broken places.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered into her skin. “You’re everything.”
Padmé cupped his face in her hands, studying him. The boy she had first met on Tatooine was gone, replaced by a man forged in war and heartache but he was still Anakin. Still the boy who had looked at her like she hung the very moons in the sky.
“So are you,” she said fiercely. “Don’t you ever forget it.”
When he finally lowered her onto the bed, their bodies fit together like something long-predestined. Every kiss, every touch was a silent vow, a promise renewed with every heartbeat.
There was no shame between them, no fear. Only trust. Only love.
When he entered her, slow and careful, she gasped into his mouth, and he shuddered, clutching her closer like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
They moved together, unhurried, learning each other with breathless wonder. Padmé clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, as waves of pleasure built inside her, stronger and stronger, until she broke apart with a soft cry against his throat.
Anakin followed her into the stars, murmuring her name like a prayer, holding her through the tremors that racked his body.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, breathless and clinging, their limbs woven together. She traced her fingers along his chest.
Anakin kissed the back of her hand, the pulse at her throat, the soft swell of her breast. He seemed unable to stop touching her, as if reassuring himself that she was real….that she was his.
Padmé threaded her fingers through his hair, murmuring nonsense words of comfort and love until his breathing evened out against her skin.
The fire burned low. The night grew deep and dark outside the villa.
But within their tiny stolen world, there was only warmth. Only love.
Only the beginning of a promise that, come what may, they would never let go.
————————————————————
A/N: Ahhhhhhh This has been a slow work in progress and I decided it was fine for me to come back to the world of writing with a love story little me couldn’t get enough of. Anakin baby, I’ve got you with this one.
I always seem to come back to Peeta x Katniss, so I finally decided to make something for them.
The bakery smells like home, warm and sweet, but Peeta Mellark barely tastes the bread he kneads. It’s been months since the revolution ended, and District 12 breathes again but quieter, sadder, changed. He watches the sunrise bleed across the soot-streaked streets and feels something stir in his chest: not quite hope, not quite sorrow.
When Katniss appears at the doorway, hair tangled, eyes tired but real, Peeta doesn’t speak. He simply holds out a roll, soft and golden, the way he once threw her burnt offerings. This time, she takes it without hesitation.
Maybe healing isn’t loud. Maybe it’s in the small things like shared bread, silent mornings, and the promise that even after everything, they’re still standing.
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Well, it’s been about 2-3 years since I wrote anything. And oh how I’ve missed this. Welcome back to all my old followers (although most of you were in my Eddie Munson fanfic stage, I want to venture out and give stories to all my old fandoms)
What’s new:
1. I finished my degree and doing teaching full time
2. I’m now 25 and feel both too old and too young to be here! Me writing again…. Feels so weird but therapeutic!
3. I got engaged last year! Ah!!!!
Honestly I’m coming back, not as often that’s for sure but just enough to keep my mind active and my heart happy.
There was nothing Eddie loved more than the smell of gingerbread at Christmas time. Ever since moving in with Uncle Wayne, the smell of gingerbread was always associated with Christmas. They never had anything fancy like home-made gingerbread houses, or expensive candles that would make the entire trailer smell like heaven on earth. But they made do with what they had, and what they could afford. In some way, shape or form, there was always one item in the Munson trailer that would give off a small scent of gingerbread.
During the lead up to December, you started to notice the lovesick smile that would appear on Eddie’s face whenever he smelt gingerbread. His eyes would roll to the back of his head, and no matter where you were, he’d stop whatever he was doing to smell it. It warmed your heart to see him so excited and at ease; so of course you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were allergic to gingerbread.
Thankfully, the smells didn’t affect you. You could smell as much gingerbread as you wanted to your hearts content. You just couldn’t touch it, or eat it. Which should have been the key reason for you to not go ahead with your surprise for Eddie. You were hellbent on giving Eddie the best god damn gingerbread house anyone had ever seen.
And thats how you ended up in this position. Your kitchen visually looking like the witch from Hansel and Gretel had created an explosion; you were covered from head to toe in safety goggles, plastic clothes and the biggest full coverage lab coat available. You were a mad woman on a mission.
“Step one, assemble the back wall of the house…okay, not too difficult. We got this…” you said, reassuring yourself. You squeezed icing along the bottom edge of the large gingerbread wall, trying to get it to stand up straight on its own.
“Motherfucker!” You swore, time and time again when the piece either fell down or snapped.
It took a few hours, but sure enough all four sides to the house were up. You’d be lying if you didn’t say you cried a little inside when it came to putting the roof on. You applauded yourself for making the first attempt fews in advanced, as you were not proud of the final design.
In total, you made four gingerbread houses over the course of 3 weeks. By the end, the gingerbread house was finally something you couldn’t wait to show Eddie. It was a single story house, many small windows and lollies lined up as if they were Christmas lights. But the best part of it all, was the mini Eddie gingerbread person and his matching guitar, standing there on the roof.
Transporting the creation in front of you proved to be difficult. All your boxes were either too small or too big; and then placing it gently into the box was a whole other issue. You decided to create your own travel case, going to the nearest hardware store and combining all different cardboard boxes until you had one up to your standard.
When the day finally came to deliver the surprise, you were so nervous that you forgot to bring plastic gloves to take it out of the box.
“Hi sweetheart,” Eddie smiled upon seeing you, moving to kiss your cheek before even registering you had anything in your hands. But the smell, oh there was no way he could miss how much the box you held radiated of gingerbread.
“I got a surprise for you…” you said, making your way into the trailer. He noticed how carefully you moved, your arms and torso as still as concrete. “Come give me a hand.”
Instantly he was by your side at the kitchen bench, “Is– is this?”
He could hardly get the words out as you nodded excitingly. “Be gentle taking it out–”
You had never seen Eddie so still, so concentrated. You held the box steadily, as Eddie’s hands grasped the bottom of the platform the house was standing on. You could faintly hear the excitement in his breath when he finally noticed the small figure on top.
“It’s me!”
And there it was, safe and presented on the bench in all its glory. Eddie leaned down to observe ever small detail, inhaling the heavenly scent as he did so.
“Do you like it?” You asked, secretly proud of yourself because you already knew what the answer would be.
He looked up to you from where he was bending down. “I– it’s amazing, I can– how long did it take you to make this?”
You shrugged, “Not important.”
“Sweetheart,” he cooed, moving so he was back to standing at eye level with you. “I love it. Thank you.” He said, grabbing your face and place a gentle kiss upon your lips.
You were so wrapped up in the moment, that you forgot about where Eddie’s hands had just been. Or more importantly, the small remains of gingerbread crumbs that still laced his fingers. You made a mental note to leave his trailer within the next ten minutes, otherwise your secret allergy would be blown.
“I gotta get my camera—” he said in a rush, giving you one last kiss before scurrying away to his room.
You touched your face of where his hands just were, moving into the bathroom you hoped that perhaps washing it off would be fine. “I’ll be out in a second!”
“How many photos do you think is enough!?” He shouted back. You could hear the faint click of the polaroid camera, “Oh– I gotta get one of mini Eddie next to my guitar.”
You were so focused on the patch of skin that was now raw to touch, that you failed to respond back to him for a few minutes. Out of concern, Eddie lowered the camera and made his way to stand outside the bathroom door.
“Sweetheart, you okay?” He asked, his voice so different to before.
Tears sprung to your eyes when you saw the faint red puffiness occurring along your cheeks and neck. “Fuck– fuck.” You whispered to yourself, praying that he didn’t hear you. But it was too late.
“Open the door.”
“No–I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute!” You said through the tears, the skin starting to itch under the surface.
He could tell by the hitch in your voice that something was wrong, “You leave me no choice–” he said as he opened the unlocked door. “Now, what’s the matter– oh god.”
His voice trailed off when he saw your neck.
“What– let’s get you to the doctors. NOW.” He said, instantly moving to grab your arm but you pulled it away. He stood there, stunned and slightly hurt by the action.
“I– don’t be mad. I should have been more careful, but I promise in a few hours I’ll be fine and the rash will have gone down.” You said, trying to offer him an apologetic smile.
“Why would I be mad?”
You sighed, trying to master up as much courage as you could. You mumbled the words initially, “I’m allergic to gingerbread.”
But it was clear enough that he heard you. With wide eyes, Eddie looked more carefully at where the rash was. Precisely where he touched you. Looking down to his fingers, he saw some gingerbread residue and crumbs on his fingertips.
“I– you–” He didn’t know what to say.
“I just– I know you love gingerbread and I was so careful for weeks, I had no incidents. I made it and was fine. I just forgot to tell you not to touch me…” you said, “I’ll go home, I have a cream that will clear it right up–”
“I did this to you?” He said, his words sad and broken.
“No!” You responded instantly. “Not you! The gingerbread. Eddie it wasn’t because of you– I wanted to do this for you, and it almost went perfectly. I wanted to.”
He shook his head in disbelief; mentally swearing at himself for failing to notice something so serious as an allergy. He moved to wash his hands, thoroughly in the bathroom sink. “Why would you make me a gingerbread house if you’re allergic?!”
You shrugged, “You love gingerbread.”
He laughed, connecting his eyes to yours. “I love you more; screw the gingerbread. If you’re allergic I’ll go my entire life without ever eating, touching or smelling it.”
You smiled as best you could, your cheeks were sensitive. “The smell of it doesn’t affect me.”
He sighed, “Oh thank god. Because I don’t think I could actually go without that– like its not Christmas if we don’t smell ginger brea– Hey!”
You swatted his arm, the two of you turning into a laughing mess in the tiny little bathroom.
“I should really get home though, the itchiness will only get worse if I don’t put on the cream.”
He nodded, with his hands finally clean from any traces of gingerbread, he draped one arm around you. “I’ll drive you. And I promise, when I get back home, little gingerbread Eddie will go to gingerbread jail for what he’s done.”
He kissed the top of your head, trying to compose himself so he wouldn’t feel guilty about the pain he didn’t know he’d cause you.
“Don’t blame it on him.” You laughed. “I love little Eddie.”
He smirked, “Oh I know how much you love little Eddie.”
This is an original work of mine, I do not permit anyone to copy or repost it anywhere. If you would like to interact with it or write something similar, please message me and give credit where it is due.
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It’s night fall, the stars are out, the rain is falling and I am still stuck in the hospital bed. My voice is back and my throat doesn’t hurt anymore, I guess the antibiotics really work. Since I was able to speak I told the doctors to stop coming to check up on me every hour.
I have less machines attached to me and I am able to sit up properly.
As I flick through the channels on the small TV in my room, boredom overcomes me. I turn the TV off and close my eyes. After minutes of attempting to rest, I hear the sounds of someone walking lightly across the floor. I smile lightly and keep my eyes closed.
“I know you’re here.” I say and the walking stops but the sound of a chair falling backwards fills the room. I open my eyes and starts laughing as I see Julius on the floor, next to a chair.
“I didn’t think that you were awake.” He says as he fixes the chair and he sits in it.
“So you decided to sneak in and watch me sleep? Julius that’s creepy.” He eyes widen when I say his name.
“Ho-how did you k-know my name?” he asks me.
I raise my eyebrow and give him a questioning look “You said it to me last night, when I was first brought into the hospital.”
“I…You were wake?”
“Yeah” I say, sitting up so I am facing him better.
“Shit.” He whispers.
“Why, what’s wrong with that?” I ask.
He runs his hands through his black hair and he leans back into the seat “So you heard everything I said?”
“Yep.” I say popping the ‘p’, I smile towards him. He does smile back but he seems more amused with me. “You know this is the longest conversation we have ever had– no wait. This is the only conversation we have ever had.”
“No it isn’t.” he laughs slightly.
“Yes it is.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Yes it is. You always leave before I say anything. Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you always save me? Why do you always leave before I say anything? Why were you trying to sneak into my room to watch me sleep? Why was there a man in my room last night saying he wanted me dead? Why did you tell me your name when you thought I was asleep?
“What? There was a man here? Did he do anything?”
“Don’t answer my questions with your questions!” I yell at him.
“Who was he? What did he want? Did he hurt you?”
“Oh my god! What did I just say? Don’t answer my questions with your questions.” I said rather aggressively, waving my hands around the room with annoyance.
“Ah but that wasn’t a question was it?”
I paused for a moment, “Shut up.”
He stands to his feet and he points his finger at me “Don’t tell me to shut up.”
“Then don’t answer my questions stupidly.”
“Are you calling me stupid?”
“Get out.” I demand in a whisper.
“What?” he says
“GET OUT!” I yell.
“Fine!” He yells back and he vanishes into thin air.
“GOOD!” I yell even though he isn’t here anymore. I wish I never spoke to him, I wish he never came. Why was he being like that? He was so annoying, he made me so angry.
My door is busted open and a nurse comes in, panting for air. “Electra what’s wrong? I heard screaming.”
Shit! “Uh no, everything is fine…. I was just ah…. Watching TV. Yeah, a show that I liked was on and I got angry with how the show ended.”
She looks at the blank TV screen, “Are you sure you’re ok?”
“Yes. Yes everything is fine, I promise.”
“Ok, well call if you need anything.” When she leaves the room I lean into my pillows and let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding.
I look at the clock and see that it’s 12:34, great just 12-15 more hours until I go to the orphanage to pack my things.
I try to hold in my tears but I fail, my life has always been a mess. The orphanage grew into my home, my parents abandoned me and death always finds me but never takes me. The one person that always saves me, is rude and a jerk. I have to move in with a family I don’t know every well, I will be starting at a high school where I don’t know anyone and a person is out to kill me.
I stare at my hand and the scar that is on it, a lightning bolt for a death chasing girl.
“Happy belated 16th birthday Ela, it’s one that we won’t forget.” I say to myself as I trace my finger over the scar.
No one came for the rest of the night. I don’t have my phone, I don’t have any of my books, I don’t have any of my music and I have nothing to watch on TV. Being stuck in the bed was starting to mess with my mind.
“Electra, your food is ready.” The nurse comes in with a tray, I can’t see what food is on it since there is a lid covering it.
“I don’t like to be called that, please call me Ela.” I tell her as she sets the tray down on my lap, “Thank you.”
“Where do you get Ela from Electra?” she asks me. Ah! Just leave so I can eat in peace.
“My full name is Electra Lilith Anderson, it’s the first letter from all three names.” I reply to her.
“Electra is a very unique name, would you happen to know where your parents got it from?” can she please just stop trying to be nice.
“Ah… I wouldn’t know, I’m an orphan.” Her face drops and the guilt shows on her face.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to intru-“
“Its fine, they left me. Their loss not mine, I’ve been fine without them.”
Which is true, they are only in one memory that I have. It’s not like I can miss them, because I don’t even know them.
“Its fine.” I say again.
“I’m sorry.” She whispers as she leaves the room. Finally.
I take off the lid and place it on the bedside table, I look down at the tray and I lost my appetite. There is a bowl with some sort of green/grey moosh in it with big chunks of something brown, there is a little plate that have something like looks like toasts, but it’s completely black. They gave me a small cup of ‘juice’ in it, I think its juice, its bright yellow/orange and there are some little bits of white stuff in it.
“Ewe.” I whisper to myself as I pick up the spoon. Should I even eat this? I scoop up a large spoonful of the ‘soup’ and I flip the spoon upside down. Not one single drop, left the spoon. “That ain’t right.” I leave the spoon in the ‘soup’ and I move onto the ‘toast’.
I pick up the butter knife and I open the little butter container, I spread the butter onto the ‘toast’. The ‘toast’ crumbs and turns into crumbs as soon as the knife touches it.
“Well that’s gone.” Now all that’s left is the ‘juice’.
I pick up the cup and bring it to my mouth, the smell alone is horrible. I shake it a little bit, hoping to get rid of the stuff but I doesn’t work. “Please taste good.” I plead as I open my mouth to let the unpleasant liquid into my mouth, my tastebuds feel like they a vomiting. I quickly spit it out back into the cup. The taste is still there!! I grab a tissue and I wipe my tongue clean. “Yuck! God thats horrible!”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Someone says to me.
“Oh, hi.” I say to him. He is sitting in the chair that he knocked over the night before. “Would you like some?” I offer him.
“Oh no, it’s all yours.” He smiles at me.
“Why did you come back?” I ask him quietly, staring down the food on my tray. Trying my best to look everywhere besides at him.
“You ask too many questions, and they all start with why. Why this……why that…”
“Well sorry for trying to understand what is going on. Julius, why are you here?”
He stands up and makes his way to my bed, he sits next to my legs and he never looks at me. “I want you to tell me who that man was.”
“I don’t know.” I answer him.
“Do you know what he looks like?”
“No, I had my eyes closed and I couldn’t open them.”
“What did he say?”
“How come you get to ask so many questions?” I interrogate him.
He turns his face so he can look at me and within seconds I am hypnotized by his bright blue eyes. “Just answer that and then I will answer your questions.” He gives me half a smile and my heart melts.
“He said something about him thinking about so many ways for me to die, but I always survive and he is going to make sure that I die. I think he said that, I can’t quite remember. Do you know who he was?”
He nods his head slowly “I got an idea”, he places his head in his hands and he whispers something to himself, something I can’t quite hear. “When are you getting out of here?”
“Tonight.” I answer quickly. He knows who is out to kill me? Just calm down, Ela, he said maybe. Maybe doesn’t mean yes. “But everything is going to be a rush tonight, I have to pack my things and go to the Phillips’ house and then I have to get ready for my first day at the high school tomorrow-“ I rambling all of this out to him why?
“Why do you have to leave the orphanage?”
“They don’t want me there anymore. So I’m moving in with a family that lives in the little village in the woods, it’s about 20 minutes away from the orphanage. Do you know the place I am talking about?” he nods “Yeah, tomorrow I will also be starting at the high school there. Helen also has two other kids, a boy and girl around my age.”
“Why don’t they want you?” I shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t know, they don’t want me there because they think I’m a safety issue or a trouble magnet or some crap like that.”
“So you’re just going to move in with a family you don’t know? What happens if they are working with him?”
“They are nice people-“
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
He’s right in some sense, I don’t really know them. For all I know they could be murders, but they did have two other kids. They could have been lying about that, why would they want me if they already had two other teenagers with them? Do they keep them prisoners? Don’t be ridiculous Ela, it’s just getting to you. Nothing bad is going to happen.
I begin to panic and I breathe in and out deeply, “Why did you say that?” I ask, “Why did you have to mess with my head?”
“What? I just want you to know that people may not be as they see-“
“Shut up! Don’t say anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re making me panic and nervous.”
He sighed, “Just make sure that you don’t get too attached.”
“SHUT UP! Stop saying things like that.” I yell. “Leave”
“You’re going to kick me out again?” I nod
“Yes, now leave. I need to think I can’t do that with you here.” I demand him, but he doesn’t move an inch. “LEAVE!”
“Oh don’t worry I’ll leave, you won’t ever have to see me again.” He threatens as he disappears.
He left, now I can think. Wait, did he say ‘ever again’? Does that mean he’s not going to help me ever again? Does that mean I won’t ever get to see his smile or his bright blue eyes ever again?
‘Oh don’t worry I’ll leave, you won’t ever have to see me again’
