Savior

The Girl and the Truth

I feel whole.

For the first time in my life I feel like something has clicked into place and I know, without a single doubt, that that something is Layla.

The feeling that overcame me when Layla admitted that she wanted to be with me... It's... indescribable. It felt as though something deep inside of me had been switched on, that something had stirred to life inside of me.

My heart hammered against my ribs, my nerve endings felt like they were on fire, the fluttering in my belly increased tenfold... In that moment... I can honestly say that I have never been happier.

Months I have watched her from afar, always too afraid to shake her slightly in case it caused an avalanche.

Every single one of my desires had spurred to life all because of one sketchbook.

She is mine. She is finally mine.

All I want to do is hold her and kiss her and rejoice that the woman I love wants to be with me.

But, the news that came after had the butterflies in my stomach quickly morphing back into the familiar bees.

"I thought... I thought you didn't have a family?" I rear back at her confession, unsure how to even process the words and I watch her gulp nervously.

I'm grateful, so, so happy that she if finally ready to open up to me again. But, I'll admit that I wanted to bask in the glow of her acceptance a little while longer.

I can't deny my curiosity, but I know that whatever she is about to say is going to change everything. For better, or for worse, I'm not sure.

"I didn't... I don't. Maybe I should start from the beginning." She sighs, rubbing a shaky hand down her face and I place my hand against her bare thigh in an effort to calm her.

"Take your time, Layla. Just relax, I'm here."

She sends me a soft smile, eyes light in appreciation. I am here. I have always been here waiting for her to answer the door, and finally... Finally, she has.

She takes one deep breath before beginning to speak -voice small, but hurried, the words spewing from her mouth, "You already know that I was an orphan and although families want babies, they don't want sick ones. And I was... sick, all the time. I was a premature baby so my immune system was very weak. I was never adopted.

"Instead, I was in and out of foster homes my entire life –never staying in one place too long, never having a real family. The homes I was put in... Some were nice, but most... Most just... weren't."

I squeeze her thigh gently and when she finally gains enough courage to meet my eyes, they are full of the kind of pain that has been long festering, but covered.

"You don't have to go into detail if it's too hard."

She shakes her head and shoots me a soft smile, adjusting on the bed so that she is fully facing me, hands still shaking, but eyes determined.

"In order to eat or even sleep in a bed and not on the floor, I would have to cook and clean and sometimes bring home money by performing in the streets. Most nights, I was lucky to get leftovers. Most nights, I was lucky if the dad passed out from drinking and couldn't choose one of us to... talk to."

I take in a shaky breath, not daring to glance at Layla, as I shake the images out of my mind and control my anger, "By the time I had gotten healthy I was older and bitter from being tossed aside. No one wanted me in the beginning, so they sure as hell didn't want me then. And with each year I blew out the candles, I let that anger of being rejected settle deep into my bones.