the last of her kind

Chapter 4

"Did that give a little more insight on my life and I or are you dying to know more about our relationship? Alex's and mine? Does that make you feel jealous? Does Alex make you jealous, despite the fact that you know he is no longer in my life?"

"Shut up!"

"I guess I won't tell you then,"

"Fine, fine, fine. I'm sorry,"

"Good. Don't interrupt me again, to know me, to get theinformation you need you will need to know everything about my life there. This is how it goes...

Alex and I met when I was twelve. However, we didn't form a friendship straight away. I was still closed off and guarded. I didn't know how to socialise. I mean what do you expect? A scared little girl who had no contact with those her own age to suddenly act as though everything was okay? No that wasn't me. Despite making a snarky comment towards Alex and exploding- with anger- in front of everyone, I was on my guard. I hadn't change from that girl, who was afraid constantly.

I still haven't.

I was second guessing myself at all times. I didn't know what to do. At this point, all I wanted to do was go home and be with mommy. Just mommy, Will and I. Sometimes I didn't even want that. I would dream of another life where it was only daddy and I, and he would treat me so nicely.

Those days I would wake up with a sweat but a smile on my face. I would be whimpering yet laughing at the same times. I thought I had gone mad. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not but you can't really tell, can you? When a person is mad or sane, can you tell the difference, unless they act unusually out of the normal.

That's why I think I'm mad. I can't decide whether to think of him as my father- a closed and intimidating person- or as my daddy- the sweet and amazing dad from my dreams. I can't distinguish the difference between a dream and reality. It was getting harder now that I was here, I had hope and a creative outlet so I let my thought leap further than they should. It was getting harder to control."

I let out a sigh and shook my head.

"I'm getting of track, again. Seriously I have a bad attention span. Jumping from one topic to another. Now I'll tell you about Alex and what drew me to him.

He was slick as a snake and would stop at nothing to get what he wants. He wanted me. I guess you could call that his biggest flaw. He didn't know how to admit wrong because if he did, he wouldn't get what he wanted. He didn't want that. He wanted everything for himself. However, I don't blame him. He has a terrible past and I feel as though it is not my story to tell, but this is the only way you will understand why.

His father was constantly in disarray, never staying in one place, and hurting people in the process. When Alex was born, he wasn't even there. The first time Alex told me his story I cried, so don't make fun of me if I cry a little.

Alex was born as a cute, small and premature baby. His mother was a short, skinny woman who at the time of Alex's birth was griping the hands of a midwife- not her husband- screaming curses at the top of her voice. Alex was early and his father booked flights to come in the summer and Alex was born in the winter. You must be thinking how is that possible. It was all due to sheer luck, strong will and a mother's love.

Alex grew in the hospital, but he was growing weaker every day. This was due to the lack of iron and anaemia. He needed a blood transplant. If Alex had the same blood type as his dad he would have died, but he didn't; though that resulted in another's death. His mother, still healing from giving birth, was already severely ill but she gave away her blood for the one she loved. Before she died, she named her child, in a whisper, "Alex."

She then took her last breath, hoping her husband would take care of her beloved child. He didn't. He turned away from Alex, swearing never to look at his face again. He reminded him too much of her. He took baby A into his arms, took one look at his face and cried; he turned away from him, saying sorry. As though his apologises would erase years of pain.

He took one look at his face, gave a watery smile and asked where his wife was. He had good news for her, and he wanted to share his happiness of their child with her. An overwhelming silence descended, nobody was able to break the news to the joyous father. Though it had seemed the silence had done its job, whispering into the oblivious father's ear. Tears sprung from his eyes, but they didn't fall; he didn't want to believe it. His ear-splitting grin fell slowly. Anger was building up inside him.

He needed confirmation. He screamed, his voice filled with agony and doubt. "Where is she!?" With those words the silence was broken with tears, a baby crying and overlapping voices, each trying to make him see reason. However, his attention was on the baby he was cradling in his arms.

He looked so much like his mother, that if they were to stand next to each other-when he was older- they would look like siblings, twins even. The resemblance and reminder of his wife's death was too much to bare. "What is his name?" he whispered in askance.

"Alex." Replied one of the nurses, who had handed him Alex.

His said with so much malice and sadness, "Alex, you are a murderer and a monster. You can't be my son," with that he left. His family and everyone behind shouted for him to come back, questioning what to do with the child.

He was so heartless, but he was drowning in his grief. He uttered those dreadful words, "Give him up for adoption."

He left behind a wailing baby, a bright future and his son.