Darling Lia (littlehands) wrote in variorum,
Darling Lia
littlehands
variorum

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No One's Son

This is really raw in writing, I haven't worked on this fic forever. I think it totally suck, is horrable s**t but feel free to tell me differently. I need some cheering up interms of my writing at the moment. Every bit helps.

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This is really raw in writing, I haven't worked on this fic forever. I think it totally suck, is horrable s**t but feel free to tell me differently. I need some cheering up interms of my writing at the moment. Every bit helps.

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Such a simple question, in a tone that a mother so often uses, but to me it’s foreign. My first reaction is what game she is playing with me, entrapment or interest? But then for a moment as the light reflects off her glasses if she is really asking, that she wants a truthful reply from her son. I can never tell when we switch, when it turns from work to family.

Looking into her eyes, so deep and powerful, a whirlpool of feelings, and my tongue fails.

“No, Mother. I don’t hate you.”

“Liar.”

“And if I am, what does that make you?”

“You would be nowhere without me. Would you have wanted to grow up in that s**thole of a town?”

“If I could have truly grow up, then yes. I never was a child, nor am I an adult.”

“One day, you’ll be able to walk away, I always told you that.”

“And walk away to what? I never got passed grammar school. I can’t go back to my childhood name, you’ve killed it. Don’t you realize I’m dead.”

She stands, her hands are pale on the desk, soft in the light, but still deadly. She walks to me, no sound, wine and navy carpet beneath our feet.

“What do you want from this life, Miska?”

Leaning up against the desk, hair up, she could be mistaken for a school teacher. And in a way she is a teacher, but not one who inspires you to greatness. Greatness in a sense, but only in the twisted sense that perverts my life, and our hearts.

“I want a real life, this isn’t living, you know that as much as I do. Sometimes I wonder why you ever came back.”

She’s getting mad, she always gets mad or sad when I talk about her past.

“This is your problem, don’t bring me into it.”

“What problem? I’m about to go on vaction, I don’t see anything wrong with my life.”

“How is Allison?”

B***h.

She’s so coy sometimes, making me back off for a moment because for once I think that it’s really her. But then she throughs in something like that, and it’s all an act. You think at this point I’d be able to see through it but I can’t.

A Mother, such a simple wish, but so elusive for me.

“She’s a very diligent agent.”

“Interesting.”

“Just say it, I know it’s eating at you. What do you want ask? Have I f**ked her yet?”

“No, I was just wondering, if you approved of her as an agent.”

And once again she outplays me. Check.

“Well I think I’ve answered that.”

“Oh yes.”

The smile, the grin of victory. Checkmate.

I give her a nod, my hand willing themselves into fists. But I don’t give her the satisfaction of my anger. I’m her child, I’ll play her games, I may not win but the more I play the more I learn. She’s up to something, something is about to happen. I can smell in the winds.

I push it away as I leave, bag in the trunk. I don’t know where I’ll go, someplace away from this. I need to think, I can’t think with her around, with Allison around. The job is in four days, Hong Kong. I have a feeling about it, that something big is going to happen. She’s been spending far to long on the phone lately. Alone in her study, with charts and computers.

Something is coming, I say to the breeze. Revving the engine, I pull away from the house, heading anywhere.
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