He is from Leo and She is from Scorpio.

Chapter 03

P.S:  Chapter with information about Roger's childhood and adolescence. Some of these details in future chapters will be interesting, because of some mysteries that will gradually be revealed in the course of history.

Sunday, March 4, 1973.

Roger's POV

"Let go of me, let me go," I said in a rush.

"You can not get away from me for the rest of my life, Roger," said the person chasing me down a dark alley. "Come back here, Taylor.

- Leave me alone! I said, running.

"Come back here, Taylor. I'm not done yet! - Said the person.

- LEAVE ME ALONE! I screamed hard.

And at that moment I woke up scared, breathing uneasily. Shit I had a nightmare. I look at the clock. Midday.

I get up and go straight to the bathroom to take a shower. Under the shower, I think about my entire career here.

Roger Flashback:

My full name is Roger Taylor Meddows. I'm twenty-three, born on July 26, 1949, in Norfolk, King's Lynn. I am the son of Winifred Mary Hickman Fysh (maiden name, then went on to call Winifred Taylor when she married my father) and son Michael Meddows Taylor. On February 16, 1953, my younger sister Clare was born and after her birth we moved to Truro, the capital of Cornwall. My father worked for the government's Ministry of Food. He was an inspector, and my mother was a housewife and also painted landscapes (and sold) as a young woman. At age eight, I went to study at Bosvigo School in Truro and got my mother a ukulele (Hawaiian guitar). My mother in adolescence learned to play the accordion and decided to present me with ukelele and learned to play alone. At age ten, I got my acoustic guitar from my mother and my older cousin who knew how to play the guitar taught me a little. At that time, my father Michael was already an alcoholic. Almost every day I came home drunk at night when I came home from work and complained to my mother, saying that I wanted to be rich and I never wanted to have married so young and to have been such a young father. He blamed my mother, Clare, and me for the life he had, which he said was a miserable life. My father beat my mother. He was an extremely violent man. When I started to ask him to stop beating my mother, he started beating me too. I was his punching bag. He beat up my mother and me even when I was not drunk.

"You are a torment in my life, you are a nuisance. Because of you I will never have what I want a life of comfort, "my father said.

So much of my mother's sorrow made me sad and often cried, for my father was not affectionate with Mother, with me and Clare. I missed a father figure, a friend to talk to.

He spent a little more time and I became interested in drums. I took the covers from my mother's pan and began to beat with them and their knitting needles was like the sticks.

"Roger, my son, do not do that," my mother said affectionately.

"But I want to be a drummer, Mom. I want a battery, "he told her.

"I promise I'll figure it out, my love," my mother would say, kissing my cheek.

Mom was very loving to Clare and I, to this day she is. I love my mother and my sister very much.

In May of 1960, shortly before I was eleven, I got a scholarship at the renowned Truro School, but for that I would have to sing in the church choir of Truro Cathedral at Mass. I did not like. I believe in God, but I'm not religious. It was a challenge for me to always sing in the church choir just to keep the scholarship. Shortly thereafter, I started studying at Truro School and made lots of friends.