WHEN YOU ARE MINE

Back to the Street

Brightfed came to a stop on the precipice's edge, away from the main road. The area was rough and encircled by jagged ridges and abrupt incline, where few people dared to venture. He was able to see the city stretched out in front of him like a massive needlework from this vantage point. In the daylight, the rooftops glinted, and towering building reached upwards. Regardless, though, it was the church building, towering over them at the center that he kept looking at. The sound of the bells reverberated in the tranquility echoing up the mountainside.

“This is it," he said to himself, almost speaking in a whisper against the flow of his speech. He was talking about presumably the time of the wedding. Lucy would have mentioned the usual saying among couples. He could not shake the annoyance that curled in his chest. Nevertheless, there was no thought of hope despite the pain. He felt the immigration card in his pocket, which would take him out of the country first thing tomorrow. It will be a fresh start, a life far away from this place and also from the woman he loved, who was now to be married to a different man, his mortal enemy. He stood there for some minutes, buried in a tempest of thoughts. His lips twisted into a harsh grin — the grin of a man who realized he had lost.

"Brightfed!"

A voice called out to him, pulling him back to the present. He went to see a vehicle drawing nearer, slipping to a stop close by. Lucy ventured out, her demeanor a blend of urgency and help.

He slipped from the bluff's edge, meeting her most of the way as she hurried to him, tossing her arms around his neck in a warm hug. Astounded, Brightfed wavered prior to returning her embrace, his hand delicately stroking her hair. Behind her, he saw Brian, his best friend, standing by the vehicle, watching them with a knowing look.

As Lucy pulled back, Brightfed shook Brian's hand. "Thank you, brother."

Brian shrugged, looking at Lucy. "It was all her idea, man. I just did as she bade."

Brightfed glanced back at Lucy, his demeanor a blend of disbelief and concern. He realized this would bring problem, they would be looking for her now yet he basically gestured at Brian. Brightfed hope they would find them until he escaped with Lucy, the weight of the moment starts to settle.

20 year ago

Sansa ran as quick as her legs could carry her, tears streaming her face. Mrs. Miller's home lingered ahead, a spot she feared getting back to yet had no other decision. Her psyche hustled with the chastening she knew looked for her. Mrs. Miller had forever been strict, however today, her anger appeared to be more serious, more personal.

The second Sansa burst through the entryway, Mrs. Miller was there, her face a cover of cold disappointment. "So, you at last chose to return," she said, her voice bound with toxin.

Sansa froze, her little edge shudder under Mrs. Miller's cruel look. The lady had really cared for her since she was four, however today, sansa saw just hatred in her eyes. Sansa's psyche replayed every one of the mistake she'd made — the bedwetting, the times she'd been excessively delayed to sell the heated merchandise, and presently, this.

"Today, you are leaving," Mrs. Miller proclaimed her voice unfeeling. "I've had enough of your misconduct."

"Mummy, please," Sansa asked, her voice trembling. "I won't make you angry again."

Mrs. Miller's eyes limited at "mummy." It was a brutal incongruity, a reminder that she had no offspring of her own, and Sansa's utilization of the word just extended pain.

"What did you simply call me?" Mrs. Miller's voice was hazardously low, her outrage stewing underneath the surface. Sansa realize that tone very well, the temporary peace before a violent upheaval.

"Mummy, please," Sansa rehashed, her eyes wide with fear.

Mrs. Miller pivoted on her heels suddenly and strolled inside, leaving Sansa remaining there, her heart beating in her chest. Briefly, Sansa thought for even a second to trust that Mrs. Miller could forgive her that this would pass like different times. Be that as it may, when the lady returned, she grasped a pair of scissors, her expression absent of any and all warmth.

"I'm not your mother!" Mrs. Miller murmured, snatching Sansa by her hair. She started to cut, the sharp edges cutting through the strands as Sansa stood frozen, too stunned to even think about running, perhaps she deserves it if that would change her mind. "This will help you to remember who you are — a useless stray. A flirty peasant, now get out and return to the drains where you belong!"

Wailing, Sansa collected her couple of possessions as Mrs. Miller pushed her out the entryway, tossing her little heap of garments after her. Alone and crushed, Sansa meandered the roads, her tears obscuring her vision. She opened her sack and checked assuming her cash pocket was still there. She bobbled through the little sack until her fingers found the coins she had carefully saved — she counts a reasonable amount carefully. It wasn't a lot, yet it was all she had.

The roads were strangely calm, absent of any trace of the typical buzzing about. A chill ran down her spine as she recalled the tales of criminals who went after youngsters like her. She revived her speed, gripping her sack firmly, and her faculties on guard. The street ahead appeared to be perpetual, and her pack felt heavier with each step.

Out of nowhere, she detected somebody behind her, their presence like a shadow crawling nearer. Fear grasped her heart, and she began to run, her feet beating against the asphalt. She looked back, however saw nobody. Had she just run for nothing? Gasping, she dialed back, twisting around to pause and rest.

Out of the blue, she was pushed to the ground. The effect took the breeze out of her, and before she could respond, somebody pried her hands open and grabbed her cash pocket. The cheat, a kid not a lot older than her, removed, her well deserved reserve funds grasped in his clench hand.

Filled by outrage and desperation, Sansa scrambled to her feet and gave pursue. Her pack bounced against her side as she ran, her eyes locked on the kid's withdrawing figure. She followed him through tight rear entryways and across occupied roads, her determination to catch him unfaltering.

At long last, she made up for lost time to him. The kid was gasping for air, his breathing toiled. With an eruption of energy, Sansa lurched at him, handling him to the ground. The kid howled in shock as she nailed him down, her clench hands striking out in fierceness. Blood trickled from his nose where she had hit him. She searched him, found nothing on him

"Where is my money?" Sansa requested, her voice shaking with rage. However, the kid stayed quiet, his eyes wide with fright. He attempted to creep away, yet Sansa kicked him hard, her foot interfacing with his face. The kid whimpered, gripping his nose as more blood streamed.

"Where did you put my money?" she yelled once more, her voice reverberating in the vacant rear entryway. The kid cringed, too frightened to even consider talking. She would love to hit him again.

"Enough! Stop hitting my brother!!" A voice rang out, frightening Sansa. She looked up to see a kid standing a couple of feet away, his eyes scowled angrily in objection. It was Coco; however Sansa didn't remember him right away. He appeared to be natural, yet she was unable to put him. Her brain was excessively blurred with outrage and fatigue.

The kid on the ground scrambled to his feet and took cover behind Coco, pointing a shudder finger at Sansa, blaming her for the assault. Sansa gazed at Coco, her breath coming in worn out wheezes. Who is he? She pondered, attempting to get make a sense of the situation she had just find herself.