Nessacary Sacrifice

Chapter five : You have an Enemy in Me

Well I have been having a lot of fun writing and I’m home again turns out I may just be moving… ahhh human migration I just love it. I have begun picking through my chapters and editing when I’m done with a chapter I’ll put RM which means remastered. When I edit I always add new passages or take some out so you may want to reread J just saying no pushing :P lol. I wanted to try a little first person to put you out of the loop. Thank you for reading this far even and enjoy. Also I’d tried to give her a southern accent Mah=My  Ah=II hope that’ll add some flavor if it’s a bad idea please tell me in the comment section. I thought it would be nice to see why agent 1111 hates Leo and now you have it. Well thank you pls vote comment you know what to do :P

When ah a young tike mah father was the best hunter around my little uppity town in Richmond, Virginia. His walls where covered in plaques ranging from majestic moose heads to Deer frozen in time with their heads alert and my favorite, a leaping snow tiger with cold blue eyes. Mah father was a well-respected man with a salt and pepper colored beard and calculating grey eyes. He always told me that if you wanted respect you would have to fight tooth an’ nail for it.

Bein’ I was his only child and mah mother had no hope of having another one mah Father taught me all he knew about trappin’ and huntin’.  Ah remember the day he handed me the smooth polished oak brown barrel of his prized gun. Ah had traced my small fingers over the solid ribbings on the black barrel and the smooth cold metal pieces that fit together perfectly. This was as beautiful as any instrument ah had seen in my life.

“One day,’ mah father had said “This will be yars,”.

Mah Mother however wildly disproved of huntin’ she always complained, about the smell, about the look, about how it was unlady like to hunt. So my dad and ah continued to hunt  in secret on days when mah mother was gone off to some fancy debut party. My mother was also a woman of high class.  She was a slim faced thin nosed wide eyed replica of Audrey Hepburn. It was a thing only our family did, you couldn’t have two people running around with the same face. So before mah mom her mother was Elizabeth Taylor and Ah was born as Marilyn Monroe. Mah mothers head was stuck too tight in Hollywood’s glamour to worry about conventional things like cooking and cleaning. So she never taught me what good southern hospitality tasted like to her, I only knew what it looked like.

 My fondest memories of her where made by her make up table. The old thing was always covered in phsycidilic shades of lipstick and lip gloss, in eye shadow and eyebrow pencils and with brushes and powdered make up wipes. She was in every way a proper lady. On rare occasion she would dress me up in a  frilly dress stuff a camisole in my hands and take me to one of her events to be molly coddled picked at and crooned over by her friends. I tried to cherish those few moments because it was the only time ah got to spend with mah mother.

Unknowingly she had depraved my life of her presence which part of me wished was there. But the other part of me thanked mah mother because Ah wouldn’t have become the person I am today.

If one were to ask what was the most memorable thing my mother had told me I would have to say “A lady is to be seen not heard,”

 Ah loathed those words with every fiber of my being. Ah wanted to be seen and Ah wanted to be heard. Ah wanted the voice the females in my house denied me. Mah father had managed to give me part of my voice back. He recognized mah uncanny skill for conquering beasts. He taught me new more complicated ways to hunt; he trained me the art of stealth how to be one with my weapon. By the age of thirteen  Ah was as good at hunting as any man. I reckon Ah was even better than all the men. Ah never showed off for ah knew a female hunting would be frowned upon so I sat tight living my charade of a life. As soon as ah was old enough ah decided to escape arranged marriage and join the ICA.