GOLDWING (ing version)

FLASHBACK - Let The Angels Commit

(in honor of the milestone of 10 000 readings)

writer's pov

After many months of struggling in a hospital bed, Jeannet passed away peacefully in her hometown, Copenhagen, accompanied by her daughter Victoria. Sometimes the little teenager could not accept that her mother was ill: that that smile had lost its shine, that her blonde hair had all fallen out, that she was destined to die. Weeks after trying to process everything that had happened, she began to think about death, to think about it too much. She, a girl who had always been relaxed all her life, took comfort in the thought of dying and looked up to the sky like that was a safe, comfortable place. Thoughts came to her head like "Why was it her and not me?" Her days were spent on the basis of lying in bed every day, not leaving her own room. Nica would knock on her bedroom door countless times, but Vic would never open it. Around nine o'clock at night - the time of death of the mother of the two little girls and her father's wife - her dad, Sandro, would open the door with a second key every day and bring her dinner. She would not eat, she would not speak. It was a state of shock she never understood. On one of those days, her father entered her room at the same time, as usual, this time with a woman behind him. Minutes later, she introduced herself to her as Vanessa, her therapist. Her posture could intimidate anyone. With those big green eyes, tall stature, and a small nose, she looked like a baby in an adult's body dressed in a blazer and high heels. She was only 28 years old, recently finished her studies, doing a specialty, and that had been one of her first real patients. She stayed with Vic for 4 years, until she started touring with the band.February 12th. That year it had been four years since Jeannet had gone to a better place. 

At 19, Victoria was already touring with her band, her new family. And it was they who sheltered her as she fell from an abyss of thought. That day they played a show in London, it was her first time there since the X Factor. In recent years, she'd spend that day crying, looking at pictures of her biggest inspiration, usually in Copenhagen. Her mother loved that city, it was her definition of home, despite living in Rome. In fact, home for Jeannet was wherever the people she loved went, the same applied for her daughters, who pulled on her strong and charismatic personality. Unlike the rest of her family and her peers who told her to give up playing instruments, she and her father always believed in her and her talent. They took her to a music school far away from home, they did everything to make her happy, especially her father Alessandro, after her mother left. At that school, she met Damiano, and Thomas. If she had not overcome her fears of the future, she would never be where she is today. She is a very strong girl, and she knows it. It was months and months of thinking about her every day, but as time went on, the tears subsided, and the pain in her chest disappeared. However, the longing was still there, and so were the good memories. That concert night, she wore an outfit the colour of her mother's eyes, blue as the sky. She dedicated each of the notes she played to Jeannet, the whole concert to her. She knew she would be proud to see her now, grown up, famous, a 'rokcstar', wearing that style of clothes she always wanted to wear. So every time she wanted to talk to her, she would look up at the stars in the sky and pick out one, and call her Mom, and tell her about her whole days, about her new changes, or every time she discovered something new. Victoria was never one to believe in a specific higher being, but when she saw that just that night the sky was starry and full moon - just the way her mother liked it - she really thought there was someone watching over her in this giant world. It was from then on that she started wearing her rosaries with some real meaning behind them, thinking of her mother. 

Already tired and showered, she walked out onto the balcony of her hotel. The shadow of her slim body contrasted with the moonlight reflected on the small sofa of the place. There she picked up a torn piece of paper from her notebook, a huge text she had made to her mother, in Danish. Vic had never done anything like that, had never remembered her best moments with her that day. Before, she could only remember the weight she'd put on that hospital chair for months, watching her eyes close for the last time, hearing the last hint of a heartbeat from the person she'd loved the most until then. But this time she didn't remember any of that. 

"Mom, I think I've done my grieving," she affirmed, finally.

-

hi guys! what do you think of these flashbacks? 

some stuff will be realesed soon!

love,

mel ;)