***Notes to be considered: Shena Riggs isn't very familiar with english, which is the explanation of where the dialogue may get a little confusing. I had the intent model Shena Riggs after my grandmothers accents, of which i adored. This chapter takes place after the season finale of season eight. Word spreads about the death of a young American woman. Later chapters will be more lengthy with a more accurate of description of whats going on. But I hope you enjoy. :)***
Her eyes rotated slowly back to the corner of the T.V. screen, bringing the coffee to awake her sleepy lips. With one smooth motion of her fingers, she flipped back to the news reporter who spoke unsteadily with her native tongue. The slender woman couldn't make out the dialogue, so her eyes quickly flickered and scanned the english subtitles on the bottom of her T.V screen.
The woman grew impatient between the slow rotation between the weather and the breaking news segment. Her neutral expression was quickly broken as the edges of her mouth tugged up into a faint smile behind the mug she had inclined onto her lips, as her eyes scanned over the subtitles that spoke of a recent suicide committed by a local blonde woman. The broadcaster went on to prevail that the blonde woman went by the name of Hannah McKay, who was wanted in Miami, Florida by the Miami-Metro police for the murder of Sal Price-novelist of the true crime genre.
The woman jerked the power on the television off upon hearing the faint pattering of footsteps echoing through the hallway that led to the living room. Two figures emerged with the giggles that entailed with them. The woman placed her mug carefully on the ottoman, and stood to greet the woman standing distal to her, with a fair-haired boy.
"Is my little man ready to go?!" The slender woman gushed toward the light eyed child, named Harrison. She reached a delicate hand, offering to graze Harrison on the shoulder, but the child rejected her sincere offering by moving behind the woman who stood opposite of her.
"Damn mosquitoes...summa' must'n be rollin' on in." The lady reliped with a thick, unflattering accent. "Must'n blame the poor lad, Andressa, he thought yous' was swatting at some fly."
Andressa stiffly echoed a mono-tonal laugh, directed towards the elder woman.
"Harrison, boy, you go on off now, and start walking wiff Melvin, he'll on take ye right to skool." His caregiver whispered.
Both woman watched as he receded from the dull metallic door, which firmly swung shut on its hinges.
"Giv' de child some time, his poor mutha just came to a passin' dear." The elder woman's accent thickened, putting emphasis on the word "passing." "Now, i mustv' hav somethin' to be askin' you!"
Andressa propped herself up on the wooden stool, briefing her self to hear some bullshit spewed by the woman.
"Well, I don't thinking kicking you out is an option because I have the most unsettling feeling in my stomach that you're going to tell me anyway, Shena."
"Whos gav' you custody of that child?" Shena's indistinct eyes narrowed at Andressa's monotonous sarcasm. "Ye little skinny white bitch jus' popped out of de' god damn blu! Buyin' up som property on the West side village, flashin' ye wallet around, thinkin' dat cover ye tracks?! Im on to ye, im on to ye! I don' kno what yous has in mind for dat boi, but if ye dare hurt a wee hair on his head, i..."
The cold edge of Andressa's shaken voice creeped through Shena's response, cutting her off. "You are a bright, engaging woman, but it appears you aren't bright enough Mrs. Shena Riggs. For it appears to me, that I've found your nose stuffed into my personal pile of business."
Andressa cleared her throat, "Do you know what the lesson is to be learned here? Do you?"
Andressa continued, letting the depth of her tone measure her pride. "Well, the lesson to be learned here is that you randomly must lift a dear friend off the ground sometimes, and then let them know you can throw them out the door, back to the hole of which they crawled out of. Before you question my motives, remember whose "wee little wallet" pays your "wee little bills." Andressa breathed out heavily.
"For fuck sakes, Shena, I know you don't know me, and I know I'm marking uncharted territories. But for pete sake, i'm at ninteen years of age. What do you think my intent is to do to that boy? I heard a tragic story which touched my heart, and I wanted to do everything in my power to ensure that this child was in safe housing. At one point in my crippling youth, I lost both of my parents. I was left so alone to bleed, reality was so hard to concieve, and I couldn't even breathe. I know it may be so hard to believe, but take notes before you read into a situation. I took the inheritance i recieved at eighteen, wanting to start a new life for me, and the news about this child that reached me in a neighboring village, as I traveled around the majority of South America...Word has it, you couldn't afford to care for the child, but I could, and I am. Do not question my morality. You make it sound as if I committed a crime."
"Lord only kno' yous probably hav." The elder woman fired back after she inspected the teenagers solemn expression.
Andressa replied with a bitter tone, "Just leave." Before i puncture your carotid artery with this friendly pen i have in my hands. She wanted to add.
Mrs. Riggs retreated out of the lackluster door. Andressa pressed her fingers to her temples, rubbing vigorously.
Boy, do I need to control my anger. An outburst like that will only incriminate me further...