The Light Within Her - Book Nine

Ch. 1- Wild Child

"I am fond of lovers but I cannot love, I am too far away, I am banished." –Franz Kafka

***

I woke up in a haze and my head was pounding from the inside out. Ouch. All that wine from last night must have hit me at full force while I was asleep. My eyes slowly opened, the sun from the balcony burning them until they were dry. I sat up from my bed, realizing my sheets were crumpled on the floor and there were way too many bottles of wine laying in random places in my room. I groaned as I forced myself to place my two feet on the cold hardwood floor. This has to be the worst hangover I ever experienced in the five years I've been living here. Or maybe in the top three. I don't know. I need to get out of this bed and drink a cup of coffee. Or something that will cure this headache.

Before I could react, someone barged into my room holding a black radio at full blast. My best friend in the whole entire world, Beatrice Clemonte, was smiling broadly as she was singing Pink Floyd at the top of her lungs. Bea had black hair that was cut short to her shoulders with green, angular eyes. Her sharp jawline and summer tan made me want to smile back at her. But the pain did not let me. I ignored the pounding headache and decided to sing along with my best friend, jumping up and down in the process.

Bea set the radio on the floor as we both fell onto the bed, laughing like it was the best thing ever. Gods, I love Bea. We met at a cafe in the French Riviera close to five years ago and she was so lost, she could not find north from south. I was sitting nearby sipping on an iced coffee and noticed that she was frantically trying to fold a very large map back up. I went up to her and asked where she was going, she said, "To the beach!" I laughed because she is so full of light, almost like she was a personification of my powers. I told her I was going to the beach, too, and asked if we could walk there together. The rest was history. Now we are living in a beach house together, drinking margaritas and delicious foods every day, while partying at night.

Every second since we met, I wanted so badly to tell her about who I am. What I came from. After all, she told me all her secrets and where she was from in the first week. Bea's mother lives in Paris while her father, whom she barely knows, lives in Seoul. When she was a baby, her parents broke up due to the long distance and then her mother found out she was pregnant. After so many debates, her parents decided that Bea will live with her mother and occasionally visit her father on summer and winter breaks. She is an only child and after so many years being dependent on her mother, Bea decided to go on vacation by herself. To find herself.

She did that. And then she met her best friend, who has kept her whole life a secret from her. The headache surged even more and I had to close my eyes for a second try to let it pass. "Maybe we shouldn't have drank that much wine last night, B." I groaned again. "Why did you even let me drink that much?"

Bea laughed, slapping my arm. "No way you are blaming me for getting you so drunk. There are two other girls that encouraged you to beat your high score. How many is it now?"

I combed my hair with my fingers, avoiding her gaze. "Maybe about a hundred bottles."

"Jesus Christ."

"What can I say, I am my Father's daughter." I laughed again, then stopped, realizing my mistake. I never talk to Bea about my parents. She assumes we just have a bad relationship, which may be partly true. They ask how I am doing once in a while over text, but I barely reply. When they do, they decide to call me. And I really don't want to hear their voices when all I want is to have fun with my friends on the beach and get drunk with them. It is what's best, after all. I left them five years ago. The night I left, I cannot forget it even if I tried. It haunts me like a ghost, no matter how many times I try to push it out of my mind; everything I said that night is still so alive and slowly killing me.