Deeds Not Love

Chapter 2

My mother always told me not to get involved with them. She would always push me back. Always hide me away.

But there was just something about being chaotic that drew me in.

My life had always been "perfect".

We were fairly wealthy, me and my mother.

We owned a rather grand little house in the town centre, you know, the place where all the shops were.

Almost every house on the street, including ours, had a built in shop on the ground floor.

Ours had a library which used to be run by my father until he passed away when I was about four.

The very year my mother started protesting.

No one really knows how it happened.

My mother told me nothing but what the police said:

He had a nasty fall in the storage room and banged his head. All that we found was a bruise.

I always believed there was something else to it but still now I have never found out anything about his death.

I used to be able to remember how he sounded, how he looked, how he laughed...

But it's all faded over time.

The only thing I have left of his is a locket.

Inside is a picture of me and my mother when I was a baby. It is a black and white photo, a very new thing at the time which we could just barley afford however father insisted.

Now I look back I'm glad he did.

Anyway, back to the story.

I had to watch for a total of thirteen years behind my mother's "protection".

Just... watching.

And... watching.

And... waiting.

Mother was always like that, giving me unneeded and unwanted cover from the world.

But I could manage.

And I decided to prove it.