REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER TWELVE

Alexa

Inhaling the smell of freshly cut grass, I closed my eyes and dropped my head back as the warm breeze flowed through my hair.

I push my feet forward.

I push my feet backwards.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Holding onto the frayed ropes, I extended my legs, oscillating beneath the sun's hot rays, and wondered what would happen if I let go mid-swing.

If I point my toes, will that make me go higher?

If I stretched my legs far enough, would I land on my feet or tumble across the grass?

I suppose there is only one way to find out.

Releasing the tight hold to the ropes, I lunged ahead, feet almost giving out under the sudden crash to the ground, and then, spinning to see how far I made it, I looked back at the swing as it swayed. I assessed the distance.

My shoulders slumped.

I made it not much further than last time.

Never mind.

Grappling the material of my white summer dress, I twirled and danced, admiring the floral patterns on my frilly socks. Mummy always put me in a dress, especially when the sun glowed. It's pretty, she told me.

I hated the pigtails, though.

I remember when Mummy matched our outfits, Kathy's and mine. If I wore pink, she had to wear pink. And If I wore lemon shorts and a white lace trim blouse, she had to wear lemon shorts and a white lace trim blouse.

Oh, how Kathy hated anything remotely girly. She'd protest every single time. Not the pastels, Mamma, she often groused. We are not twins. Alexa is younger than me. I want to wear jeans. And I like leather jackets and ankle boots.

Mummy fought Kathy often on her wardrobe, but in the end, she gave up and concentrated on me instead, even though she mumbled how unladylike Kathy dressed.

I like what Kathy wears. Her friends seem to like black, too, so I don't blame her for wanting to fit in.

When I grow up, I'm going to be like my sister.

My fingertips brushed over the tall gladiolus that sprinkled our garden, the pretty colours, yellow, red and orange, reminding me of a rainbow. Running through waist-length flowers, watching petals fall as I whacked tall stems aside, I got to the top of the hill, the one Mummy made me promise not to climb, to oversee the enchanted forest ahead. It's our favourite place, Kathy's and mine. We like to hide behind the mysterious trees and endless undergrowth when, being home, listening to Mummy crying, becomes too much to handle.

Onto my backside, I slumped, the extra-bright sun burning above in the cloudless sky. I uprooted a white gladiolus from the ground, snuffed the delicate petals, and then, falling back with a pout, I flung the flower aside, wondering what to do with myself. I am bored. Very bored.

Kathy left at the crack of dawn to visit the beach with friends. When you are older, I promise to take you with us, she'd told me. Hey, we can even make sandcastles, she continued, just behave for Mamma while I am gone, Alexa. She is under the weather.

Yes, Mummy was sad this morning. I made her a peanut butter sandwich, and she never even thanked me. It's unlike Mummy to not eat a peanut butter sandwich, so she's definitely unwell.