The Woman of War

Thirteen

Mistakes like this by Prelow

" And my dick takes over

And I'm thinking about your lips

And We're too damn sober 

For mistakes like this "

*****

"What the actual fuck?" was the only thought that was coming to mind, as memories of spending bedtimes with my father, rereading this short story thousands of times. 

For years, I asked the same questions, like 'Who are their grandchildren? Why would someone do that? Who is the woman of war?', and my dad, my once sweet and thoughtful father, would always say the same thing, "It could be anyone. It could even be you, sweetheart. The only way to find out is to find yourself, and know yourself, even in the most difficult of times."

I was too young to understand it and thought my life would be just as perfect as it was when I was six, but now it seems like a forewarning tale about the present life I am currently living.  Staring at the yellowing pages, I ran my fingers over the ink as if feeling them underneath my finger tips would help them stay in my mind forever. The book sat in my lap as I let my body go limp and fall against the bookshelf, making the picture frames rattle at the sudden weight. Every nerve in my body was exhausted, as if I had to relive my childhood. As I just let my body sink, I was almost relaxed when I heard the smoke detector go off, and my body was alive and alert with adrenaline.

Running down the stairs with the wind rushing between the track pants, I ran to the kitchen to see smoke arising from soup I had left to boil was now smoking up my entire kitchen. Grabbing the smoking pot, I threw it into the sink as my skin felt like it was about to burst into flames. A stream of curses left my mouth, as I ran water over the soup and grabbed a broom from the closet nearby. Rushing to the smoke detector, I was swatting at the damn thing, and missing every time I swung.  I was on my third, very dramatic swing when I heard a deep chuckle come from behind me. 

Turning around, and aiming the broom handle as if it was a Chinese dao and I was a samurai in training, a certain Mal was leaning against my kitchen counter. He was wearing this catholic school boy uniform, with his leather jacket over top of the blue blazer. Holding my pitiful defense up, I gritted through my teeth to hide my embarrassment, "How the hell did you get in my house?"

"The front door, beautiful. Most people come in that way," his snarky attitude was prevalent in every word as he walked over and reached up to turn the beeping machine off.

"Most people come in that way when they are invited in," I continued to hold my stance, as I realized how pathetic I must look in front of him.

"Well, when I hear a smoke detector going off and there's a beautiful girl inside, I'm going to run to check it out," his attitude melted for a split moment, before he it returned "Now, can you drop the sword, young warrior? I'm not in the mood to get my ass kicked by a broom today."

Putting the broom down, I let out a sigh of stress as I released my bitchiness on him "You can go now. I got it all figured out."

"Nope, I don't feel like leaving," he said with a pop on the p's, as he made his way to the couch in the living room.

"You're not invited here,  I could call the police and say you broke into my house," I spoke with as much serious as I could muster, knowing I wouldn't do anything. 

"And I'll just tell the police that I heard the smoke detector go off and knew you were home, so I was being a hero and making sure you were okay. I might get a medal for that," he spoke uninterested as he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels.