This is short, I know. I've been dealing with the migraine from hell. Seriously, this chapter was written and typed in the dark with my computer screen dimmed one notch from completely black. Anyways, it's not as bad as it was so I typed something up to get back into the swing of updating :)
Chapter 59 – Fragments (Samson Conrad POV) Pt. 4
Silas broke his arm once – heck more than once - by climbing this amazing tree that when we got to the top we thought we could see the whole wide world. We couldn't. But at age five it felt that way. When he fell from the tree I'm fairly certain that it had been maybe the twelfth or thirteenth time that he had fallen from the same exact tree. See while it grew tall some of the branches just couldn't hold our weight, so naturally, they'd break, we'd fall, get injured, and then a month later do it all over again.
Climbing that tree was no good for us.
But at age five, once the pain subsided, we were right back at it again until one time when I fell and instead of landing in a way to brace my fall, I ended up flipped over, my bouncing off a few sturdier branches. I was out for maybe three days. After that fall, Silas and I didn't climb our tree anymore. Sure we moved onto other activities that were just as dangerous but that last fall taught us a lesson.
Just because something is fun doesn't mean we need to do it and as I grew and matured, I knew more and could see this small lesson learned on a larger scale. I loved staying up late, the only one in the house awake at two or three in the morning. But then I'd be exhausted all day and my grades slipped. I loved watermelon and decided that it was it's very own food group consuming it until I made myself sick.
Now I knew that wanting something doesn't necessarily always mean that it is good for you.
Point in case? The man and woman standing in front of me had answer about Fatima. Yet everything inside me since we walked into this little live music bar was screaming to tuck Fatima under my arm, stash her in the truck, and get the hell out of Wisconsin as fast as we could without being pulled over by some hidden county sheriff or whatever.
With the lights glowing brighter I took a good look at the two people, beaming at Fatima like she was their savior. The woman, maybe just over five foot five inches, had chocolate colored skin, her eyes a light honey brown, dark brown hair curled down past her shoulders. The man standing just about six feet gazed at Fatima, his blue eyes shining.
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"You know who I am? Who Dmitri is?" Fatima asks again.
The woman takes a step forward. I move closer to Fatima, ready to block access.
"Have you never heard of personal space?" Rafael blurts out looking between the woman and Fatima. Surprised I blink at his immediate uprising to defend Fatima. The woman, blinks, takes a step back and raises her hands out palms toward Fatima.
