Rediscovery - An AF Story

Prologue - Family Ties

An Excerpt From Hera's Diary:

Dear Diary,
This morning, I woke up to realize that my headache was completely gone. My arm was alright too, a fact that really surprised the doctors, as my arm clearly wasn't even close to being remotely fine when they had put a cast on it the night before.

The doctors apparently found my rate of healing fascinating and at the same time, perplexing. According to them, it "challenges all known laws of biology". It isn't so much of a wonder to me, really. When I was a baby, I was diagnosed with osteogenesis imperfecta, a genetic disorder that caused weak bones and poor muscle development. My parents worried for my safety. Apparently the condition was so severe that I found it difficult to complete day-to-day mundane tasks like eating or even breathing.

I had to undergo surgery in an effort to try and save my life. The plan was to try and insert an implant that wound speed up the cell-regeneration process. It wasn't a perfect solution, but at least that would stitch up the wounds before they became a major issue.

The operation was a success, and it worked well, almost a little too well. Now, I don't even have to worry about small cuts and bruises, they all just seem to disappear overnight. Of course, I remember none of these. My father was the one who told me. Knowing my father, it was probably him who suggested the idea for the operation in the first place.

I'm returning home to Ireland next week. I can't wait- Germany is lovely and all, but you really start to miss home after being away for a whole semester. I wonder what Father's been up to while I was away. I do hope he hasn't overworked himself. I keep reminding him to stop working so hard, to get some rest every now and then, but of course, being the stubborn person he is, my father never listened.

Sometimes, I really wished my mother were still here, for my father's sake.  I've never known my own mother, she had passed away when I was very young. But from the stories that I've heard of her, she must've been an incredible woman. My mother was Italian, she was a captain at the police force; she was the first female captain, and was one of the best of her kind too; she was strong, compassionate, beautiful, intelligent and independent.

My father met her in his youth, back when his ways were far from legitimate. He fell for her, she had fixed him, turned him into the man he is today. Even now, my father still thinks of her constantly. Grandma told me that Father has never really been the same person ever since my mother left. He became much colder, distancing himself from the rest of the family. 

Many times I've tried to remember my mother, what she was like, what she looked like, but I just can't. I can't remember anything, except for her name. And what a beautiful name it was. Her name was a very suiting name indeed, beautiful yet dangerous, much like her.

It sounds ridiculous, but sometimes, when the moon was full, I swear I could hear my mother's voice inside my own head. Perhaps it was a product of my own imagination, I wouldn't know. I know she's still around, and perhaps she is looking down upon us, protecting us. My family may not be perfect, but either way, they're still family. And nothing is more important than family.

.........

I rewrote this short chapter, hope you like it.