Nanny For The Black

Her

|A U T H O R|

Children are like clay the moment they're out of the womb and poured into the mold, shaped by the people of their surroundings.

That mold will specify the child's nature, and like a mirror to the place and people they grew around, you can guess where the child came from, building a prediction of who raised them based on their personality.

They are the product of their environment. They are molded within it, carved by it, and colored with it.

Once in the right hands, the mold they're bound to grow in will be a fragment of their soul for the rest of their life. If they were surrounded by good people, you'd be blinded by the child's beam, as their soul was well protected by their guardians. The pure piece of being a child can never be stained as they grow the whiteness of their hair.

If, by chance of misfortune, the child's fate is tied to a broken mold, a fragment of their soul will forever be lost. When left in the wrong hands, their light is dimmed to a point of no return, stamped by an unfortunate childhood that may or may not fade away. As if branded with their past, it is hard to conceal a part they already lived.

Like a tag that can never be taken off, you get scratched with the reminder of who you were.

You go through the years of childhood, teenagehood, and adulthood, trying to take off that label and refusing to be defined by it. The constant struggle to get out of the box you were placed in may or may not have fruitful results.

It'll always be a gamble, where no one is winning or losing throughout the game until the very end, when everything is laid out clearly.
.
.
.
.
Alexis watched silently the little boy she managed to put to sleep. His face, which was bright with a smile a few moments ago as she lulled him to sleep, smiling fondly at her while touching her face with his careful, tiny hands, was now relaxed and in deep slumber.

The little soul who was sleeping on the sofa unknowingly tattooed a mark on the heart of his nanny, who gazed at him, her lips pecking at her small hand, which held her finger.

Her silver-like eyes held so much admiration and adoration that it slipped through the blinks.

She was astounded by how long it took him to have her wrapped around his pinky finger, but she didn't find herself complaining; it was her greatest wish to be accepted by a pure child like him after many rejections.

Then her smile was worn off when he flinched, his grip on her finger tightening faintly, and his face scrunched into displeasure due to the dream he was having.

She hushed and cooed as he whined, leaning close as her fingers brushed through his golden locks, untangling them along with the wrinkle between his eyebrows with the help of soothing words.

"It's okay, baby. Nothing can hurt  you."She whispered, caressing his hand around her finger and planting a peck on his forehead. "Nothing can cause you any harm, as long as your dada is here... And as long as I'm allowed here." She mumbled by last, gulping the uneasiness she felt when these words left her mouth.

Indeed, she felt uneasy, but not of the job she had taken and was meant to officially sign on the next sun rise, because she was confident that the contract would ease her stress as well as the stress of her new boss.  She had no doubt about the responsibility she had placed on her shoulders, taking care of Lukas.

Her concern was far from that.

She flinched when her phone vibrated on the table. Reaching for it, she picked up the call after knowing the caller.

"Hey, Lil," she said lowly.

"Hey, are you ready? I'm almost there." She hummed as an answer, then turned to the little boy, smiling the moment she laid her eyes back on him.