Renegade

Prologue

My mother had taught me from a young age that fate was something that could not be changed. Fate was a woman, and a powerful one at that; once she had made up her mind, not a thing could stop her from doing as she liked. This, naturally, was something I was sceptical of at first. As a young child, I would clamber onto my mother's lap and curl my tiny fingers into her dyed, blonde locks. I'd peer into her eyes as she'd tell me stories - stories regarding her past and the likes of - she'd then tell me to be careful and that, no matter what, if something was meant to be, it would happen. I'd be polite and listen closely, I'd use my manners, as she'd taught me to; I didn't understand her vocabulary. The big words she had used always sounded foreign and strange, but I always refused to interupt. I never did question her tales. She was an amazing narrator.

Mother taught me to take things with a pinch of salt; to accept what life was to throw at me. I was a sensitive child with teary eyes and trembling lips. She had continuously tried to provide me with what I lacked; a metaphorical spine and unwavering confidence. I was shy and timid, but she didn't mind too much. I never was supposed to be bold and wild, I wasn't built for defence - I couldn't stand up for myself, or for anyone else - I was destined to be gentle and quiet. As I aged slowly, she tried to toughen me up, though, that was something that I had to do on my own.

My mother had taught me three things; to accept life for what it was, to adapt to what was to come my way and to always, always appreciate the beauty of what I had; of what I could call my own. I never did understand completely as an infant. I asked questions constantly - all the time - but now, I understand perfectly, and I can reflect on what she had taught me with a smile on my face. I can now thank her for installing good morals into my head.

Now, I also understand the gravity of her lessons. I know why she filled my mind and my soul with such stories. Now, with the weight of my need to survive hanging over my shoulders and the dependance of others trailing on my heels, I am in debt to my mother and her irreplacable words of wisdom and kindness. After all, mother does know best.