Princess °° Freddie Highmore [dd/lg]

chapter twenty-six:

-- C H A P T E R
T W E N T Y - S I X --

He takes one hand and extends it out to me. I reluctantly take it in mine, shaking it as I plaster the best fake smile on my face. Freddie continues to look at me intently, his eyes are piercing through me, and once again I lose my breath.

Feeling her hand on my shoulder, I turn my head to the right and see my foster mother's golden locks. "Why don't you go upstairs to your room?" she inquires, breaking the awkward silence. "There are some of your belongings in there. I'll be up in a minute."

I nod, then turn on my heel and head upstairs to the room I was raised in. Climbing up these stairs take me back to the times my foster mom called me worthless, and how she screamed at me to go and kill myself. These stairs that I was climbing on brought absolute Hell to both my heart and mind.

Once I step into the bedroom of my past, I exhale and shut my eyes, trying to shut out any other ongoing memories coursing through me. I stand in front of my bed and look at the box at the edge of the bed. In it, rested a teddy bear that I'd had since I was born, some Junie B. Jones books, and a few articles of clothing.

Although the majority of my clothes were at my apartment, I was actually shocked that my foster parents have kept my things. I thought that maybe after I'd left, my foster mother would have sold my things to a Goodwill store. However, I was obviously proven wrong.

"I decided to pack your things and leave them in that box for you," my foster mother began as she entered my bedroom. Downstairs, I could hear Freddie and my foster dad converse. "that way you wouldn't have to make multiple trips when you'd decided to leave." she looks at me, her eyebrows scrunched together. "Are you okay?" she asks.

I stare at the box in front of me, and it took every part of me not to snap or break. "How come you're being so nice to me?" I manage to ask. The memories of her hitting me in this exact room flash in the realms of my mind.

The blonde woman looks at me, and gives me a sympathetic grin. A smile I had never seen before. "I want to tell you something," she begins. "a few years ago, your father and I had come to grips with our addictions, and one day, a friend of mine invited me to church. Now, you know as much as I do that when you lived here with us, we never went to church, or even read the Bible.
"For some reason, we decided to go. And ironically, the pastor was talking about addiction, and how too much of something -- whether it's drinking or smoking or even anger -- can destroy you and your life. He talked about how we should let God be our refuge, how when we talk about His love, that it be our addiction; an addiction that never runs out of supply and it makes our lives better. That day, Amanda, I gave my life to Christ. And I've been working hard to not go back to who I used to be.

"With that being said, Amanda, I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me throughput everything me and your father have ever done to you. We should have been more responsible and more caring towards you, and for that, I'm sorry."

I took everything she said to me in. She went to church? She's now a Christian? I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what to say, or do. What if this was a facade? I eventually nod and look down at our feet; thinking for the most appropriate answer.

"To be honest," I begin, my lip quivering. "I'm not sure I can do that." I look at her then, and see her blue eyes sink in sadness. "I can forgive you, yes. Just not right now."

With an understanding nod, she smiles. "I understand, and I understand if, after this, you don't want to see us. However, I just wanted you to know how sorry I am for putting you through Hell. And, if you are wanting a relationship with us, we will be willing to work things through with you."

I nod once again. "Thank you."

"I'm going to go downstairs," my previous foster mom says. "If you'd like to stay for dinner, I have roast beef in the oven." She then exits the room; leaving me to my own vices.

°°

From downstairs, I hear Freddie ask: "Where's the restroom?"

"Upstairs, just past Amanda's room." I hear my father say.

I start to collect my things, and just as I was about to exit the room, I hear Freddie's footsteps. Once he sees me, he stops in his tracks. He leans against the doorframe, his dark eyes examining the room, but it felt like they were examining me, too.

"So, this is your room, yeah?" He asks me, his English accent wavering through my ears. At the sound of his voice, I melt.

I nearly drop the box before answering. "Y-yeah," I reply. "this was my room."

He scans at me, his face unreadable. "Are ye alright?' he inquires. "You look a bit overwhelmed."

I take a breath, and look dead center in the eye. "Seeing you here, in the place I was abused at, didn't help. You haven't contacted me since the last time we saw each other, and the fact that you just keep showing up in my life is frustrating. I didn't want to be here in the first place, but because I had things I'd left behind here, I had to."

Freddie nods. "I do apologise for my behavior the other evening," he states. "Is there anything I can do?"

I look down at my shoes again. "No." I state. "Not right now."

Freddie stays quiet for a moment, then nods. "Alright then," he says simply. "I understand. However, I have one request I have for you," he then adds: "it has nothing to do with us."

"What is it?" I ask.

"If you don't want to see me, that's alright, I will give you yer space." He starts, his hand on the doorknob. "However, I heard what yer mum had said, and I think you should give her a second chance."

"You don't know my history with her." I reply back curtly.

"Yer right," he says. "I don't.  But I know you deserve to be happy, and I think, if you let everything go, you will be."

He then makes his way to the bathroom. And I stand there, stuck on his words. This man, though he may be complex, melts me to the core with his looks, and the fact that he desired my happiness, even if it's not towards being happy with him, he makes me want him more.

Who was this man? 

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