The Stars of My Heart [Completed]

Chapter Three

   A bone-shattering slam follows after my conversation with my father. If it was even a conversation at all. The sound would have startled me, but this time it was from me. Maybe slamming the door to my bedroom was a little childish, but it was the only thing I could think of to get the "last word" in. Every one of my movements finishes with the finesse of attitude.

Throwing my suitcase on the bed, I make sure I do it as loudly as possible. I toss what little clothes I have into the air, watching them come down like little parachutes. I go to my bookshelf. Each book I throw like a heavy frisbee. They hit the wall, each making a statement, before they slide down. Even through my fit, I stop to make sure the pages are intact. Holding them in my hands I frill through the pages, some of the corners and edges folded and smooshed. I run my hands over them hoping smoothing out the rough edges but thy still crease. My mother gave me these books. I can almost hear her voice;

One should always have a world to escape to. One where you can be whoever you want.

I often think about that. I would be better off, prison-wise, if I dumped this whole gang and moved out. I would start again. A clean record, but then I would have nothing. There is always a bit of regret whenever I steal something, a bit of my mother still in me.

When I was younger, still in training, my contact with my mother was diminished. Damian had said that I could not feel any remorse, and that spending time with her would soften my heart. I started getting stronger. Not just physically, but mentally as well. There would be days where Damian would have his gang members scream at me all day for anything that wasn't just so. One of those days I had made it through training, but I had retired early to my bedroom. I'd like to think that I kept my tears to myself, but I think everyone knew what was happening when I closed my door. I laid in my bed, my pillows a soggy mess when the soft footsteps of my mother sounded from the hall.

She came into my room and sat next to me. Her frail hands wiped my tears and held me close until my sobs dwindled to a soft murmur. She then gave me a book. A leather bound with the most intricate details on it. The letters of the title swirled together like a whip of magic. She said it was her favorite book when she was a child. She thought I might like to read it. A way for me to calm down after a hard day. And so I did.

When I had finished it, I came racing to her lap. I told her all about it. My favorite parts, the funny parts, anything that I could remember. After that, anytime I had a truly rough day, she would sneak in and give me a new book.

I know Damian found out at some point. He never said anything, but anytime he comes into my room he always peeks at the shelf. Sometimes I wonder if he misses her. How does he cope? How does he go on with a sharp mind and stone heart when his wife is dead? In a way, I wish to be him. He's powerful, respected, something I can only hope I will be one day.

A knock comes at my door interrupting me from my thoughts.

"Come in," I say. I already know it's John. I could tell by the loopy swing of his steps. Always sounding like he's dancing to jazz music playing in his head.

He turns the knob slowly. His eyes peek around the room, gawking at the mess I had made. Swiftly, he comes in and closes the door to my room. He drops his voice to a low whisper that I can barely even hear.

"You know you don't have to do this."

"Really?" I retort, not being as quiet as him. "Do I have a choice? Damian made it pretty clear on that matter."

"You know what I mean. I could..." He searches for words. "I could help you. We could find a place together—

"I'm going to stop you there." I reach my arm between us, keeping the space. "John, even if we leave, we would still have to steal. It's not like anyone is going to want members of the Flesherg gang serving up people's morning coffee. They'll probably think we would poison their customers. This is how we grew up. At least here we are safe."