Phoenix

Chapter 26

Disclaimer: Most of this chapter will be a flash back told from Florence's (phoenix's mother) point of view.
Just a heads up so you won't get confused.
Otherwise I hope you're enjoying the story. It's coming to an end at around 30 chapters. Make sure you comment your thoughts and opinions!
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The past

Phoenix's POV
The next morning we drove home. Something about my mother telling me a story... absurd...

I didn't get an ounce of sleep last night, I kept tossing and turning thinking about what my parents could possibly want to tell me, what it had to do with the kidnapping, and how was Essence holding up. Was she hurt? Tortured? Abused?

I threw the covers off me and abruptly jumped off, as if the bed was set on fire. I paced around the dark room, pulling at my hair, feeling the spring breeze enter through the opened window and caress my bare chest. It was almost soothing, as it cooled my flustered state, but was not Zaffiro's hand.

Ians bed was empty, sheets still rumpled from the night before. I had not seen him since my father dismissed him from the office earlier tonight. I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid.

Feeling the wrath of impatience and anger, I gave out a yell and wiped all the objects on my night stand off of it, throwing them to the ground. The sound of shattering glass satiating my urge to commit an act of violence.

I continued pacing around the room, occasionally stepping on the glass shards of the broken night lamp and cursing, until the sun began dominating over the black emptiness outside, filling the world with color again.
If it weren't for the current situation, I would have admired the dawn as it was my favorite part of the day. Only instead, I threw on a hoodie over the track pants I already had on, and ran out the room to my father's car.

Once we got home, my mother opened the door, a look of concern on her face, Anaïs on her hip smiling as she saw us. She handed the baby to my father, and ushered us to the living room, where she sat on a single chair with a sigh, running her delicate fingers through her brown hair.

_ "I guess it's long over due we tell you." She began, clearing her throat.

Florence's POV
After a glance of reassurance to my husband, I began recollecting the event that occurred 23 years ago.

Flashback begins:

I walked down the streets of Southern Italy, wrapping my jacket tighter around me, as I concealed myself from the chilly premature morning breeze that smelt of the end of summer. The sun soaked into my skin only enhancing my already tan complexion with melanin.

The streets were empty, the hour far too early for the tourists to be up yet, while the locals relished in their last few days of leisure.
As I usually do, I began my day with a jog. It was my way of coping with reality, or rather escaping from it for a while.

I trudged down the pavement, my ponytail bouncing along with my rhythmic steps as I took steady breathes. Among colorful houses I ran, all looking neat and traditional, as they were stacked in not so neat rows far away from the hotels and closer to the shore.
I ran in and out of shadows, as the sun had only risen and was hanging low across the horizon. 

Feeling the heat of my body rise with my movements, I take my jacket off and tie it around my waist and pull my loosening ponytail tighter.