Where there is desire there is gonna be a flame. Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burned.
How does a mother react to her child being taken away?
It always depends on a person, the situation and a child itself. Sometimes there is screaming and pulling through the hands of agents, other times the child cannot wait to step through those doors. I suppose the situations where neither react abruptly and suffer in silence are the worst in any scenario. I know these sorts of situations all too well, yet never this close to me.
Caitlin was rarely an emotional type of person, but hearing those words from me didn't register in her brain until I already left the room. Then the chaos went down the waterfall of shouting, begging and screaming in agony as her senses to attack only made her look like a wild stray cat.
She should know what it feels like.
Thankfully Leah was far away not to be awakened by that. Liliah that has been guarding all this time had a confused expression on her face when she saw mine, which soon turned into worry when she heard her girlfriend. Letting her run away to be her princess in shining armor, I leaned down, placing one long drawn out kiss to Leah's forehead.
As I said, Caitlin was never an emotional person, neither was I. Micheal, our brother, is the one of the kids who took that job, but still settled and kept in the place as much as me and her were. Always the golden children.
I doubt my parents even know what golder child is, but I do. Leah is most definitely one, if not for others, then for me.
Now it could be months, maybe even years before I see her again.
"I'm sorry princess." I whisper, pulling away with a heavy heart and light body. My words have to be quiet, for my voice to stay steady and her not waking up. I couldn't deal with saying goodbye to her.
I only wish they find the courage to tell her what is really happening after she is done with her holiday. I wouldn't want her to stand away from the fun by my actions. Many wrong things have been influenced by my actions. Miles Nelson, the first and largest example. Now, Henry Stewart, mistakes just waiting to be let out of the box and hopefully the last and smallest.
Madison, Wisconsin, small city on the lakes. It wasn't my choice, and nobody besides Zach Miller, the man driving me, and Alena Brooks, my director, knows where I am heading. All the devices, personal documents are safely kept back in the Bureau while the new identity is waiting for me on the fifth floor of an older building, looking over Lake Monona.
Decembar is a cold month anywhere, especially this far north. The lake is fully frozen when I glance past it while walking upstairs. The heavy suitcase is in my hands when I enter the elevator, then my new home. It's nothing strange, a merged living room with dining table and the kitchen in the far corner. One bedroom and bathroom on each side of the hallways after you cross the small hallway. It's modest and peaceful.
And lonely.
I know how these things work. I am not meant to contact anyone from my life and all the information will be delivered to me in secrecy. First three days go past with shadows, the same empty routine while all I can think of is where Leah and Landon are.
It's stupid, just the amouth of how many times have my fingers threatened to call that camp and ask for two minute long conversation with Leah is countless. I don't risk it, leaving the almost unused phone in the country as I sleep. Or try to.
He could be anywhere right now. That thought keeps me awake.
First time I leave the house is on the fourth day, a day before Christmas. When I enter the story, the envy of happy faces of enjoyment and happiness for spending it with their loved ones is strong, but I don't say anything. Keeping my head down, purchasing usual needs for living is the only thing on my mind, surpassing the fact that for the first time in almost three decades I will be spending it alone.
This fate thing really loves karma.
"Chocolate santa, chocolate santa, mom." I glance to the left, spotting three smaller chulder which are chanting their pleas to mother, who is already craning her back with the weight of things she is holding for them.
"Alex, sweetie." she smiles down at the youngest one. "I can't carry anything else and we don't have that much money to spend on candies."
"But it's Christmas." the kid yells, throwing his arms next to his body. "Come on, come on, come on..."
Children like this remind me why I love Leah and hate the rest of the children.
"Hey." I announce, making the child throw a tantrum flinch before turning to me. Whichever insult he was ready to throw at his mother, he ended up swallowing it down when he spotted me, but the anger never left.
There is a weird sensation on my face, but I write it off on the mad young eyes glaring at me.
"Who are you and what the hell do you want?" I tilt my head to the side, hearing the shocked words from his mom at his outburst. This kid couldn't be older than seven, short nevertheless, even more than Leah.
Instead of arguing with this senseless child, I step to the side, smiling at his mom when I take two of three of her grocery baskets. She looks tired, even more exhausted from taking care of these kids than the obvious lack of sleep.
I turn back to the kid, nodding at the thank you from the polite mother. "You know, I have a friend in the police and there is this rule that a parent is allowed to leave their child all alone in the grocery shop if they misbehave."
The kids' eyes are wide. "You are lying."
I pretend to wince, biting my lip. "Well, insulting an adult is definitely a couple of years in jail."
The child is stepping back, horror in his eyes as the couple years older set of twins laugh. Well the boy laughs, the girl only smiles in the distance, but she seems like she would be anywhere else in the world but here.
Not wanting to torute this child any longer I look down at him, lowering my voice. "But, I can forget both of these if you promise not to act like this anymore."
He is relentlessly nodding at that, when his mom steps nexts to me, looking at the girl. "Monica, sweety can you please take Alex and Mario back to the car."
She only nods, Mario following as she grabs Alex's shirt, basically dragging him through the store. For a moment, I am ready to apologize for interfering, but when I look back at her, she is grinning from each side, looking at me with brightness in dark eyes.
"Thank you." she tells me. "I know how annoying the children screaming in public are, but this would be his first Christmas since his father left us and he wasn't in a good mood. And I know that I should handle this myself, but I just-"
I chuckle, grabbing one of her hands flying through the air as she explains. "It's alright, Ma'am, really."
When she stops mid sentence, her cheeks are flushed when she looks down, nodding with a smile. "Oh well, thank you again...?"
"Henry." I extended my hand again, letting her fall in when she added. "Charlotte."
"Nice to meet you Charlotte." I tell her, motioning my head to the side when I lead us back to the cash register. I haven't had a chance to buy anything on my own, maybe I didn't even need it at all, but only wanted some human contact. Charlotte offers to take her own things, but I refuse. It doesn't spike any sort of argument, no until I refuse to let her pay.
It's not even my own money, the Bureau is supporting it and a single parent with three children shouldn't need to pay this much for the most cheerful holiday of the year.
After long and long conversations, I manage to convince her that I will pay while we wait for her bags. The conversation swims easily, simple information of me only moving here recently, a couple of explanations of Alex's heaviness after her highschool sweetheart left her for mistress. Apparently she got pregnant with Mario and Monica when she was eighteen, ten years ago and it all went well until the second pregnancy where her husband decided she wasn't appealing to him anymore.
I don't share much, but all I do is enough of her to share sympathy and invite me to Christmas dinner tomorrow.
"Is that smart?" I ask when we leave the store and head to her car, most of the bags in my hands. "I could be a serial killer." And she could be a paid spy from Landon.
"True, but my brother works in the FBI, so I picked up some of his fighting skills."
I smile, placing in the grocery bags in the trunk of the car, seeing Monica looking at me through the rear view mirror while Charlotte talks about the Bureau and I listen and pretend as if it hasn't occupied the ninety percent of my life.
"So, will you come?" she asks after recklessly giving away her address to me. It's only fine because I do not plan to murder her in her sleep, but a mother of three young chuldren shouldn't be this immature.
The thing is, Charlotte is a very beautiful person. Straightest white teeth I have seen only in posters created by photoshop along with clear skin only dirtied by freckles. Her hair is dark thick brown shade, curled on the lower side while her almost black eyes look up to me. But it is her beauty that could cost her a lot in this cruel world.
As I stare at her, both of us standing inches apart, I think of a word to find an excuse when the eye contact is broken by sounds of a car alarm close to us. Both of us flinch, her grasping on my arm when we look behind, in the distance a dark red car is lighting up.
"What the hell." I mutter, ripping myself away from her as I walk over there. It's a parking side of the street, not close up with fences but I spot no people around. I hear her following me, asking questions as I walk a circle around the car, looking for a clue when it pokes me in the eye.
One singular rock, not covered with snow along with everything else, stands next to the back of the car. Lifting my eyes, there is definitely a scratch where it was used.
"Probably some kids." Charlotte says when I stand up, still staring at the rock which I whirl between my fingers.
"Yes, kids." I say, but I think even she can hear how uncertain it sounds.
It can't be though. I agreed to come for dinner. The reason might sound selfish and a real dick move, but bear with me. After all, it is the only way I could be certain of anything at this moment. A flash of guilt walks over me when her eyes shine in exic,et, thinking this carries anything honest.
I can't explain why I keep carrying the rock with me, but it stands there in my pocket while I walk through the streets. They aren't crowded, other than many cars passing around, even more bikes in this kind of weather. I always enjoyed winter, how ironic, but the snow itself.
I grew up in south Florida, so enjoying snow at all given time wasn't something I did much as a kid. Now the rain loved DC more than white flakes have, but then north town in Washington was definitely something else. Layers upon layers of snow, showing on doorsteps in November, then going away somewhere at the near end of April. I'm sure it's a paradise for any kid out there.
I know it was to me.
"Go away." I heart grunt voice, calling out with waves of his hands. The old man, his beard almost frozen at this time, seems to be throwing some sort of things at the shivering dog. The poor creature is shaking from the cold, while laying on the doorstep of my building, making me think that I almost missed it from thinking.
I thought of staying quiet and only picking up the dog, but when a thrown out can of some sort of fish was thrown, it ended up right on his golder fur, I spoke up. "Hey, what the hell do you think you are doing?"
The dog, who seemed to be ready to take apart this grandpa, stilled when he saw me. I don't comment on it, only think how dumb this moron can be to throw things and aggravate a grown up golder retriever. Does he not know who bloodthirsty this breed can be, especially while being a stray dog in cold. There is an obvious reason why they are used for hunting and search, the Bureau has tons of them.
"This animal almost attacked me." even his voice sounds as if his teeth might fall off.
I decided not to comment on anything when I put away the grimace. "He will not attack you sir, not if you stop provoking him."
The man looks at me as if he wishes he could call me every slur and insult in the book, but only spits to the side when he says. "I didn't provoke that beast, but stray dogs need to be put down. The shelter I just called will make sure of it."
Oh well, a nice persona can leave for a while. "It's not a stray dog, it's mine and if you don't call off that shelter, I will make sure to put you there."
Grumbles and mutters are all he can say when he bends down, picking up a bottle of alcohol and wiggles his way down the street. I don't turn back to the dog, not unless I see him completely out of view. When he disappears in the street, I turn my head to find the dog, sitting up, his tail hitting opposite sides of the ground.
"Hey." I say quietly, hesitantly putting out my hand when he bends his head, allowing me to stroke him. Soon it turns into him jumping around me, trying to lick my whole face as I laugh, almost falling down my crouching position. Brushing my hands over his fur seems to somewhat calm down his shivers, but they don't stop.
I don't understand how this day has made me take care of a distraught family, a car and now a stray dog, but I sigh, tapping behind his ear once again before heading inside the building, with the dog.