Time to Shine

Chapter 3- An Unexpected Story

May 6 2014 my time

6:00 AM

Bag End

Rising somewhat with the sun and chipper chirping of birds the aroma of crispy bacon invades my nose. Dressing for the day in yesterday’s clothes, I have to ask Bilbo where the river is or however they clean clothes. Sure as shit they don’t have electricity or the hobbits definitely would have had lasers and strobe lights for the parties.

My feet padding into the kitchen I see the mighty breakfast I was promised. Set for two with plates full of bacon, hash potatoes, scrambles eggs, berries of all sorts, warm fluffy biscuits, jars of preserve, jug of milk and a nice pot of tea. 

“Good morning, Aria!” Bilbo greets walking in with a jar of honey, “sleep well? I hope this suits you til second breakfast rolls around,” he grins.

“Hola Bilbo! Nice morning to ya! I slept very well thank you! This is an excellent breakfast by the way! Good on ya man!” I say stuffing a few berries in my mouth. The strawberries are so ripe I let out a little moan of pleasure. “I usually just pop a Hotpocket in the microwave to nuke for a bit, this is way healthier, I’m sad to admit,” I shrug.

“Umm what’s a Hotpocket?” he asks with a tilt of his head, spooning eggs onto his plate.

“I totally forgot that I’ll never see a Hotpocket again in my life!!” I begin slinking down into my chair as if all the world’s burdens have fallen on my shoulders. Shaking myself out of my funk I begin to describe the wee pockets of heaven filled gooeyness to him. His eyes glaze over and a sudden hunger fills them until he declares, “I will attempt this feat of baking if it is the last thing I do!” he finishes with a fist pump.

Giggling to myself, I pour some more of the delicious tea and grab a handful of bacon. Deciding that fresh milk is the way to go, with its creaminess and silk feel caressing my throat, I vow to eat au naturel forever.

Drizzling honey over his bowl of berries, Bilbo decides to ask my how I came to be here. Stilling my movement of the fork, I pat my mouth with the napkin and begin my tale.

“Well, first off this may sound a bit strange. Maybe a lot strange, who knows, well I do but whatever. Hehe. So I ask that you stay silent and hold any questions until I finish, okay?” Eyes questioning, he nods in assurance.

Taking a deep breath I start off with my life before my sudden departure.

“I was born in Albuquerque, New Mexico. In May 4, 1990,” his sudden snap of his head catches my eyes, he gestures for me to continue, “It’s basically a desert with loads of mountain ranges. I was raised an only child by my parents who met on a camping trip. So cheesy, but they fell in love and had me. It wasn’t until I turned 5 that my dad started to drink and hit my mom, it wasn’t long after that he started to hit me too. My mother always tried to escape with me but somehow he always found us. Realizing that escape was futile, we stayed.” Memories long built up and forgotten begin to come back with renewed vitality. Suppressing the urge to runaway, I get up to look out the window. Not seeing the lush landscape, or happy faces of happy hobbits, but seeing a monster I used to love.

“He wasn’t always a violent man, I think his breaking point was when he and my mom lost my baby brother. She had a miscarriage, my father always wanted a boy. He loved me but not as much as my brother,” I say in a flat voice.

“Aria, that still gives him no right,” Bilbo manages to say, a bit of his anger flows into his voice. 

“I know Bilbo, he should have never been that weak. Grief touched us all. In his anger he beat my mom so bad, the doctor said she would never have children again. That was just adding more fuel to the fire. Where I come from violence happens in many households, some people will speak out against it but some will ignore it. The latter is more dominant in my world. Especially when the man knows where to hit so it doesn’t show.”  I touch my back and ribs where the bruises once colored my skin.

I see Bilbo out of the corner of my eye clenching his fists and hardening his eyes.

“My mother’s friends tried to help us, they once beat up my dad and tossed him out,” letting a smile break my stoic façade, “I’ll never forget that, sadly that was my father’s last straw. When he finally dragged us home he tossed my mom into the living room, and me into the closet. Hearing nothing but screams and cries of pain, I didn’t need to peek out the door because I’ve seen it all before. When he was done, he wretched open the door and dragged me out like a dog does its pup. Throwing me to the ground, readying his fist and belt, I shut my eyes awaiting the pain. 

It never came as my mother screams for him to leave me alone, and threw herself at my dad right into the mirror on the wall.” Touching my scar, so faint, one must be close enough to see it.  So vivid the memory, as if I happened yesterday, I flinch when my hand makes contact.

“My scar if you noticed, is quite long, I got that in my mad dash to save my mother from this monster. This monster who had lived in the room across the hall, not under my bed. Trying to roll her off him, he grabbed a shard of the mirror intent on ‘teaching me a lesson I won’t forget’ and sliced my face. I was lucky enough it missed my eye, falling flat on my back, face numb with pain, I saw my mother kill him with her last breath. Plunging the same shard into his chest. I’ve never seen so much blood before. It was as if time stopped and that’s when I realized that I was truly alone.” Wiping a tear that fell onto my cheek, I feel soft fabric being pushed into my hand, a handkerchief. Smiling at Bilbo’s sweet gesture, I dry my eyes.

“When the police arrived, I could see pity in their expressions, I’ve never liked pity or feeling any type of weakness from myself or from others, I flew into a rage and they had me tranquilized. I woke up in the hospital two days later with the social worker right beside me. She put me in a few foster homes, I didn’t want a new family, I just wanted my mom back. Right there I decided I was meant to be alone, until I met Sean when I was seven, he’s my best friend and was my only one until I ran into a certain hobbit.” Bilbo beams brightly that I include him as a best friend.

Turning from the window I feel warm arms wrap around me. Enveloping in his warmth and caring nature, I hug him back. I hold back my tears, knowing once they are free they’ll never stop flowing. Giving a great big sigh, we part after a while, feeling oddly light and free I ask to see the garden. Bilbo readily agrees and we walk out the freshly painted green door. Stepping foot outside the house I feel as if life has just begun and I intend to make the most of it.