This is my first fanfic so I apologize in advance if it's terrible.
But at the same time, Yahoo! I actually did it!
First chapter! yah!
Disclaimer: I do not own the play hamilton.
"Fique quieto." The phrase is nearly lost in the room among the noise. I have to strain my ears to hear it, and when the words process through my mind, my only reaction is;
eh? can you repeat that again?
"Fique quieto…."
My unasked request is surprisingly meant, though most likely because the noises have not stopped.
What was that anyways? It sounds.. maybe Spanish, perhaps french? I've studied both of those languages and yet I don't recognize what was said.
Most likely latin based, but other than that I have no idea.
The language the giant is speaking shouldn't be my priority now, but i can't help to wonder.. And besides everything going on has been so confusing, i need to break it down a bit.
But breaking down experiences you can hardly remember is tough. Even now I'm having difficulty being aware of my surroundings.
What is even harder was not completely panicking. I'm not even sure if the voices are other people, or if insanity has finally taken over my mind.
It is in a different language though, which would either mean my inner self has been slipping out of my body and taking classes at the Y, or a person's dead soul is stuck in my body.
Either one seems extremely unlikely, but I'm a bit unnerved how close to home the latter seemed to be.
You see even with my mind exhibiting a mush-like state, I can still hear some things, and feel a bit of what is occurring around me.
That doesn't change much though. I still don't know what's going on around me, what i even am, or where i am.
but things got better. I began to see, recognize words, and even move a bit. -Okay i could feel my body now is more accurate.- And with my growing awareness came new realizations followed by forgotten memories. The unsettling feeling only grew from there.
From my memories, I could remember dying.
No, not only that, I could remember an entire life.
A life of rising up, working hard, hours of schooling, Oh and that nice big promotion I just got.
It all came to me all in a flash, followed by a severe headache, which lasted for hours.
The hazy visions from before, transformed into something more real. Looking back on them, reminded me of my pretty decent life, and wonderful job. But then i got to the moment i died, and i lost it all over again.
The whimpering pout left my mouth without consent and not a moment later warm arms enveloped me from behind. I looked up to the giant. Oh yes, and there was that.
There was still the fact that I had been reborn.
My prayers were left unanswered as I woke every day in the same baby body. Worse yet I don't know the language my mother speaks. Which is rather annoying when you're a baby with the mind and memories of a dead 27-year-old.
Why do I have my memories again?
I can maybe understand reincarnation, but keeping my old memories?
That's a load of bullshit.
Oh, yes and my dear promotion, I just can stop mourning over that.
The youngest vice president of Quov Industries, ME, it was me.
Until that stupid driver hit me.
Really, they better be charged or something.
Even if it was a mistake, I'm still PO'ed about it.
I loved my job, I loved the control, the things we created, everything we did. I would probably marry my work if I could.
Being reborn, I could most likely find my company again, maybe work up to the same position I had from before.
But I don't know. It must have been a few years in the future by now, and companies close and start all the time.
Even with my knowledge, I don't think I could get out of college by 5. They were already adding new stuff to the curriculum when I was finishing college. I would probably have to relearn at least a little.
Ugh, screw you evolution.
Another issue would be where I was currently living.
In my life before i was lucky enough to be born in America. Even if my mother was an Chinese immigrant and i had to deal with bratty kids bullying me, -racist little shits really-. But hey at least i was in a country that sometimes provided for the poor.
In the place I lived now, well I think I was reborn into a third world country.
Our house was a little shack really, two small rooms, no bathroom, and three people. My mother, myself and an older sister who was about 3 years old now.
There was no father in sight, I couldn't say I was too surprised based on the conditions we lived in.
It was odd though that this life seemed to resemble my life before. I even got a glimpse of myself on glass one day and I had almost the same Asian features as before. This probably meant the older child was my half sister.
different fathers maybe?
Our mother, I'm guessing the lady taking care of us, should be the same if she's looking after us. I held some resemblance to the woman too, and that wasn't a bad thing, she was gorgeous, even when covered in grim. it was a bit concerning how young she looked though.
I didn't go out much, being a baby and all. I'm surprised I even survived to the age of two though.
My mother when out every day, leaving some food on the low table in the middle of an empty room, and not coming back until dawn. Whenever she was awake she was cranky, I suppose I would be too if I had two kids to take care of and worked all day.
She fed and changed me about once a day and set out crackers or other little bits of food for us to fend for ourselves while she was gone.
It wasn't a great set up. But I got used to it, and the lack supervision was nice.
Most days I spent attempting to walk. When my leg muscles were too tired to move, I would work my arms waving them around aimlessly or just trying to hold them up as long as I could. Really I was just trying to build as much muscle as I could. It seemed like a good idea to me.
I'm not sure if children my age worked on things like this so too be safe i worked on it when the woman was gone.
living where i was promised a hard life and i would do anything to get a head. I don't know why i had been reborn, maybe there was no reason at all, but that doesn't mean i will let this life go to waste.
After my arms and legs refused to move I practiced speaking, though not in the language around me, I didn't know that language.
I practiced in English, the first language I ever knew.
By the first year, I was semi-fluent with a bit of lisp due to my developing teeth.
Teething sucked, by the way.
I chewed on literally everything.
And I'm just going to leave it at that.
By the age of two, I was getting a grasp on the language around me. It wasn't hard, similar to Spanish, french, and English which are all languages I learned in my past life. My older sister seemed to have a harder time understanding it, which made sense. I was only progressing so fast because of my previous knowledge and vigorous practice.
I learned her name as well, Maria. It was a nice name, pretty common, but nice. My own name was Nerilla. Which I had never heard before, but it was nice as well. And the double, ll's where pronounced like a y, further proving my assumption that the language was similar to Spanish. My mother's name Isabell, and I'm almost positive Amoreyra is our last name.
Isabell has told it to my sister and me so many times after our own names, I don't know what else it could be.
Sometimes late at night or early in the morning, Isabell would speak to maria and me.
She was an interesting character. Most of the time her attitude was strict, or maybe apathetic. But sometimes when she was talking to me about my father, her eyes soften, and the gentleness in her voice could only be described as sounding almost lovingly. When she talked about Maria's father her tone was different, one could even say there was some resentment in there.
As I aged I could identify more words and phrases, learning more about my father and where I lived. Apparently, he worked on a ship, meeting my mother somewhere.. I still didn't know what 'bordel' meant. And once they got a' talking they found out how similar they were. falling in love shortly after.
It lasted for a while, until my father's ship had to go back, probably somewhere in Asia based on my features.
She told me she didn't even know she was pregnant until a few days after he left. She waited at the docks for a few months but gave up and had me. Maria's birth story was a little sadder, apparently, she was married to her father, a rather violent man and then he got arrested for getting in a fight, never to be seen again, though Isabell seems happy about that. Besides talking about our father's, Isabell talked about the world I now lived in.
It took me three years to find out where I had been reborn, Portugal. I wouldn't have minded it had I not been reborn in the slums of Portugal.
I've been out of our house a few times, and it's not pretty.
The first few times that I had gone out was enough to make me never want to go out again.
Everything has a muted color, there is not a square inch free of grim. Some weeds grow out of the ground, but the soil is too terrible for any other plants to grow. Half the building look like they could collapse any day, and the people are skin and bone.
Feces and mysterious body parts are not uncommon to find. I still remember the day my sister brought home a bone, to large and dense for any animal.
I don't like it, so I don't go out to see it unless I have too. But I don't like lying to myself either, I don't want to pretend it's not there.
The truth is there I nothing I can do for these people that won't greatly damage, my own, and my family's living conditions.
Where all poor here. starving. And slowly dying.
It's hard to stay optimistic about this, but I do my best, taking care of my sister, making dinner with our few materials, or trying to learn more Portuguese. These small accomplishments, don't seem like much, but when I think about before, my death I can accept this life for now. Because though I'm poor I have knowledge, and as long as I have that there is some power I hold, and some potential I can exploit to truly live again.
Even if she's three years older I treat Maria like a younger sister. I mean I am mentally older, just because I'm stuck in this miserable body doesn't mean I have to act its age.
I've never had a sister before. I used to think having a close friend would be about the same, but it different from that. There is bond we share that is stronger than that. It's a bit like maternal love, I don't need to get to know her for her smile to become my whole world.
"Irmã where's mama?" Maria shifts in her sitting position as she finishes up a plain tomato soup. I chew on the bits of mystery pieces that landed in the soup before spitting them out. Though I was not a fan of deep-fried foods in my life before, I would give almost anything to have some fries, and maybe a hamburger too.
Lifting my head back up from examining what was just in my mouth, I glance to the window. It is rather late, usually, isabell would be back by now.
"Hm, must be stayn' ou ladte." I cringe at my terrible Portuguese. Practicing to speak English for my first two years of life really set me back. Though as soon as I learn Portuguese well enough to be considered fluent, I'll be...like whatever they call people who know 4 languages..he..he. With some knowledge of Chinese and Korean. I'm sure any college would take me, even if I'm from the slums.
"Where's mama go every da' anyways?" My eyes meet maria's face this time. Honestly, i've wondered that myself.
I tilt my head to the side, thinking about it for a minute. It's probably some sort of job how else does she make enough to buy all the nice clothes she wears. As much as I believe she is not fit to be a mother, at least she buys us food. And not the trash they sell in the slums. Real food, potatoes, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, rice, and bread. Once she even brought olives, and though I hated them in my last life, it was a nice change to my diet.
I shrug my shoulder, ending up just telling her the truth rather than guessing something wrong and lying.
"I dunno, p-"
"MAMA!" Flinching slightly at the sudden change of volume, I turn around.
Maria has hopped up from the table making a sprint to Isabell. Crashing into her side. Mother almost falls at the impact. Even though she's a grown adult she's too thin, skin so soft, sometimes I'm afraid I'll break her when we hug.
I smile at her as she looks over at me, motioning to the tomato soup we left for her.
She walks over to the table, maria hopping behind her full of an unknown energy, and explaining how her day went. Needless to say, there wasn't much to say, I mean maria was just with me all day, cleaning up.
Isabel listens quietly sipping on her soup.
"Mama where do you go all day?" Maria scrapes the spoon over the scraps in her bowl as she finishes her story only to move on to another question.
I swear, the amount of time she spends talking should give her perfect grammar, but she refuses to talk properly or work on manners.
"Work." Isabell reminds me of a skeleton sometimes, pale skinny, and she always seems dead.
"Whadaya do, hum?"
Isabell pauses from her meal, patting maria's head like someone would do to a puppy.
"Something you will never do."
I was four now. It was stranger every year, being alive again, with memories of a completely different life. Sometimes I felt like it was just a dream, my past, my memories. They were useful though, and as the days passed I started to fear I would completely forget my memories in a few years. So I made a plan to write everything down. The problem was 'paper'. I had no idea where I could get it, I hadn't even seen any paper in this life.
I scoured the house for it, even entering my mother's room. It looked nothing like I imagined. She had seeds all over the place, in bottles, boxes even in a damn necklace. But the only paper was small labels on some of the containers and pots.
To my dismay, I almost gave up. It was horrifying really. In the before, I would have worked constantly to obtain what I needed. but I guess four years of doing significantly less work than I've ever done before has made me lazy.
Both the fears of becoming lazy and forgetting everything caused me to venture into the slums.
I cooked enough for my sister to have lunch and stuck a slice of bread in my pocket in case I got hungry. Making a bullshit lie to maria about washing the dishes, I run out.
For the slums, it was a nice day. The sun was out, and it's beautiful rays warmed the streets along with my skin. I stopped I moment bathing in the sunlight. It felt like an Ohio summer, except less humid.
The grime covering the cobblestone street looked better in the dappling yellow light as well as the broken buildings.
Everything looked less gloomy when the sun was out like this.
I sighed lightly as I continued to walk. Unfortunately the path I was walking lead to the shadows. It was cooler, but the shadows reminded me where I really was.
Seeing the other residents of the slums broke my heart. Children, and adults alike suffered on the street. The further I walked the stronger the scent of death grew. My life before was not perfect but it was not near as worse as these people.
A pessimistic feeling crawled into the pits of my stomach as I saw more of those around me, and realized we were in the same boat. My brains could only get me so far, right?
When you walked through the slums long enough it became a nicer area. Cleaner streets, stronger buildings, more color, plants, even some nice looking shops. I uncharacteristically felt self-conscious as I looked down on my drab brown dress.
Pushing the feeling away I continued walking until I came across some paper in the window of a store. There were really two options, I could either steal it or pay for it. Stealing just felt wrong, and it added extra risk, but at the same time, i did not have any money.
I rubbed my temples thinking over my dilemma.
There was also pencils to consider, unless I cut my hand and finger-painted with my own blood, I can't really write anything down.
My face merged into a deep frown, as I thought it over some more.
"That's a pretty serious face kid." the sudden voice behind me made me turn around so fast I can feel a little whiplash.
Behind me an older woman stood, holding a large wooden broom.
I took a step back automatically seeing she has a potential weapon. Hey, you can't trust anyone in the slums.
I look back to her face only to realize she's waiting for an answer. My face flushes red as I stutter out a proper response.
"Eh, I'm uh, contemplating how to make money." Yes, i decided I can't steal, it's just not right. Even if this place was nicer the people still did not look too well off -if I say so myself- And well, stealing from them may make their children starve or something.
"Oh, really a kid like you?"
"I'm five." I lie
"Your point." I stumble a bit at her response. After not communicating with anyone other than my sister and mother for the past few years interacting with other people is almost refreshing. A smirk covers my momentarily dumbfounded expression.
"It's time for me to become a working gal, just like my ma!" My smile comes easily as I fall into the conversation.
"With confidence like that, you must have already gotten some offers, hm?"
"Yeah, a few, but I'm still lookin' around ya know." I cock my head back tilting my head to a side. By her expression, it's clear she picked up on my bluff.
"Oh? Well here I saw you looking through my window and I came out going to offer you a paying job for you to buy whatever you liked so much that it made you stop and gawk. But if you can't work now I'll have to find someone else." She tilts her head up her face formed into a saddened expression, but one look at her eyes and it's clear she's playing me.
I can feel my jaw slacken as I look at her in disbelief.
Really that just seemed too easy. My eyebrows furrow as I began to realize she's serious.
"Look, my other offers are pending, so I could work for you for now at least. " I answer finally, playing along.
My fears of losing me get's the best of me as I decide to trust a stranger.
"Good, come with me." She tugs on my hand pulling me further away from the slums.
Alda is her name. It is also the name of her bookstore.
The shop is rather charming, the mere aura emits warmth, from the long colorful curtains to the bookshelves in the very back. Various plush chairs were arranged around the room in an orderly fashion, embroidery on the walls, yellow chandeliers dipping down from the ceiling. Basically, the place was damn cozy.
This had probably been the nicest place I had ever been in, well in this life at least. Alda was pretty nice too. I was a little scared about following her at first, I mean for all I know she could be like, a kidnapper or something. But she just didn't look like the type. Graying brown hair pulled back in a bun, crinkles around the eyes and mouth from years of smiling and wearing some kind of colorful apron dress thing. -I'm not really sure what to call her outfit-. Nope, she did not look dangerous at all, but I guess I just got lucky this time. I'm a full grown woman, I should know to stay away, I should know when to not trust people, actually from now on I should do best to not trust anyone.
The job was simple. Even if I felt like damn cinderella. A few times while working I hummed some songs for the old Disney movie, or mimicked the voices of her mice friends. That earned some strange looks from Alda, I couldn't really blame her. That was weird even for me.
The main part of my job was Sweeping, cleaning the fireplace, putting books away according to author's name...well that part was a little harder considering I couldn't read.
The good thing was this got me some free reading and writing classes from Alda.
Writing and reading were not too hard. Sure the alphabet had some differences, but knowing spans beforehand, and speaking Portuguese for the past 2 years, definitely cut the learning time in half. Also, Alda was a good teacher, and I was working in a bookstore so I had a huge supply of books to practice on.
Reading has always been one of my major passions, it was nice that I could get back to it, even if I still had trouble over some words a few times. But practice makes perfect and I practiced every day, for hours, before and after work.
I felt bad about leaving my sister behind, I almost brought her with me once but decided against it at the last minute, because as kind as she was Alda was not a charity and would not look after my sister as I worked.
My sister could work of course, but she seemed intent on playing with cloth dolls all day. And I wasn't going to take her childhood away from her, you only get it one right.
Heh, unless life fucks you over like it decided to do to me.
Did I mention that I got paid?
It wasn't much and I spent every cent buying paper at her shop, but it was something. One of the reasons my profit was so small was because Alda kept some for the lessons. Though she let me read her books for free.
People paid to rent her books more than they bought them. No one made much money even in this neighborhood which was out of the slums.
So most people couldn't afford books.
Luckily renting them was much cheaper, and that's where Alda's main income came from along with mine. Because I read them in the shop I didn't have to pay.
And even if a asked to take one home I'm sure Alda would be okay with it. She could just take it out of my pay if I damaged the book.
Not that a couple a reis(*) would replace a book. I would have to work it off with no pay. That was more than enough to convince me to not take any books. I wouldn't want my mother to see it either, I don't know how she would react to it, me having a job and all she might take my money. Even if I should start providing for my family I was only five, and every day I feared my memories were fading. I wanted to spend more time getting it all down, only after then would I become the breadwinner.
Though I had paper I had nothing to write with. I had to wait a few weeks until I could buy a quill and then there was the ink to buy.
The ink was expensive. And just the thought of waiting around to make more money to buy ink made me cringe. I had been waiting so long, months of working, skirting around my family, and I still could not write anything.
I thought about using mud, but I was almost positive it would easily fade.
So I used something easily available, and free. My blood.
The red turned into a muddy brown color as it dried. But other than the ugly color it didn't fade and worked alright. Technically it was a biohazard. I knew viruses could spread through blood, but when it's dried?
My hand rested on my chin as I attempted to recall blood facts.
.
.
Pft, whatever at least I can write now.
I started writing down the thing I would probably forget first. Which was basically everything in school, and college.
That was boring as hell and I got sick of it after a week.
After taking a break for a few days, I went back to it but spent more time writing it all down.
I still had my job and bought more paper even though I wasn't out yet. My sister found my paper but I wrote most of it in English. Partly so I could practice it but also because I wasn't completely proficient in writing Portuguese.
The stress that once weighed my shoulders lifted a little. I still stressed over getting it all down, but I was glad I could write again,
It took about two months to get everything from middle school and elementary school down. Most of it was math, a little science, almost no language arts. My school's did a terrible job a teaching grammar and writing.
Besides, i could just reread what I was writing if I wanted to learn more about language arts.
I decided to put history down later because honestly, history was just a bunch of dates and stories. I'd rather forget some of it then all the classes I took for math and science over the years.
High School and college were a bitch. It took over 6 months to write it all down, including my own tips and trick on the subjects.
The 8 months of writing took over 893 pages and countless times of nicking my finger to get some blood. My hand still twitched angrily when I thought about writing, but I couldn't help but beam at my progress.
"Nerilla.."
"Yes, mother?" I looked up from playing with my sister. I had been taking a long break from writing, and in the meantime, i spent time playing dolls with my little sister. It was actually. Fun. I only played by myself as a child at home, and not having many friends, I only played by myself at school too. Playing with Maria added more character to the doll and mixed in with my extravagant plots, it turned out to be a pretty cool adventure.
Yes, I am a 20, -maybe thirty- year old woman playing with dolls, don't judge.
"You've been writing?"
'What'
I froze.
The doll in my hand began to move slightly as my fist closed around her.
'How does she know?'
When I didn't answer immediately my mother continued.
"I've seen the papers Nerilla, there's no use lying. And anyways I'm not angry."
"Y-you're not?" I stuttered out, my hand squeezing tighter around the doll.
"No, why would I be?" I don't answer. She huffs lightly before accepting my silence as an answer.
"What you wrote... It wasn't Portuguese. was it English?" she bends down to meet my eyes, sounding genuinely confused, and maybe surprised as well. We sit in silence for a few moments. Until I know that this time she won't take my silence for an answer.
"Yes, that was um. english.." wait "I got a job, and as pay, the boss taught me to read and write in Portuguese and English." Okay, that lie will work unless she talks to Alda. Oh my, please don't talk to and.
I wait for her response, fidgeting slightly and looking at my hands as they strangle the doll between them. Maria watches the two of us interact in silence clutching her own doll tightly, confused, but sensing the tension.
.
"That's wonderful.." My eyes shoot up to meet hers when she finally speaks.
"Wah?"
"Did you think I would be angry? Is that why you didn't tell me?"
"... well yeah, I got the job without your permission and I left maria home all alone…" I sttager off not wanting to come up with more reasons for her to punish me.
Instead of harsh words, i feel her hand pat the top of my head.
"Nerilla, I'm so proud of you." I open my ask why but she beats me too it. " yes you left home and got a job without my permission and you left maria...but It's not your job to look after maria, its mine. It's also my job to look after you. And I haven't been doing my job." she stops for a breather, swallowing nothing a few times. "And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I never showed you love I'm sorry you're being raised, here in this hell" she waves her hands gesturing to the room around us.
" I was just so young when I had the both of you, barely over 16, I got the first job I could, I thought all there was to rasing a child was providing food and clothes." She looks over us.
"I haven't even done that, you're both starving.." she shakes her head slightly before meeting my eyes again. "And then you, Nerilla. You get a job, your learning two languages. That's something I've only dreamed of doing." tears start to fall from her eyes, slowly moving down her cheeks.
"That's why I'm so proud of you, you're doing something I never could, you're doing what I thought would be impossible for someone like us."
"Thank you for proving me wrong. "
My own tears began to spill now.
Her arm pulls maria and me into a hug.
'I've never felt exactly like this before.'
"Thank you for being my children,"
'If this is love,'
"That I love so much."
'Then I never want to be without it again.'
Family had always been something foreign to me. In my life before, I had one mother, no siblings, no grandparents or cousins in the country, and we couldn't afford to visit them. Like my current life, my mother always worked. And in return, I worked hard in school. But we still had problems, money being the main one. My mother was always worried about it. Working over time, countless nights just to stay afloat.
I wanted to help out. I went to town looking for jobs. I did a few things, like mowing lawns or picking up leaves. But these odd jobs did not make me much money, and there was competition with the kids in their neighborhoods, kids who they knew.
No businesses would hire the ten-year-old me.
So when there were no odd jobs I studied and studied, because that was something that could promise me a good future.
My hard work paid off. I graduated early and graduated college soon after. My mom never came to any of the graduations.
The last time I talked to her was after graduating high school, I asked her why she didn't come and even got a little mad yelling at her over the phone.
It was not my best moment, but I just got so angry, I thought I should have been recognized by my own mother for working so hard, just like her and graduating early at the top of my class.
That was the last time I remember speaking to her.
After graduating college, I found out she died in a car accident on the way to my graduation.
It did not take me long to realize it was my fault.
After college, I got a good job at and engineering company, became the youngest vice president, and then died. You know the story after that.
But when I think of my first moments in my new life, I remember how I thought this life was so familiar to the one before. then maybe that means my mother from before felt the same way. Maybe she didn't ignore me because she hated me, but because she was confused, and only knew to provide the necessities.
If that's how she felt, I can forgive her for my years of loneliness, and I can give her my love as well.
The tear falls without consent as it assault's my face with salty water. I smile despite the tears because all along I've loved.
"I miss you, mom."
I hummed lightly while stocking the books up to their shelves. Out of the corner of my eye, i see something that looks suspiciously familiar. I almost fall off the ladder as I move my face over to the window.
Alda raises her head at my commotion.
"You alright." I nod to her, looking back out the window at the women wearing similar clothes to my mother. Alda moves to the window looking at what I see.
"pretty, eh?"
"Yes.."
"Well, they all work at a bordel."
I look away from the window now,
"whats a bordel?"
Adel hesitates for a second before scoffing and answering despite herself.
"A place where women sell their bodies."
Oh, a brothel.
Wait!
My mom works at a bordel!
I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised. She did talk about how she hated her job a lot. And we did live in the slums, so it's probably common for something like this to be here.
I shake my head chasing the thoughts away as I enter our house.
"Nerilla, is that you?" isabell, she's here that's odd usually she's working. I cringe after that, thinking about what kind of work she does every day.
My face blushes red.
I think I regret thinking about it.
"Yeah, it's m-" I stop short noticing cooked food on the table. 'I didn't make this'
"I made dinner." isabell is sitting on the ground, a light blush on her face. '
"I can see that." my eyes widen at the food, so much food. "Erm, thank you." I sputter out after drooling over the gravy looking syrup on the potatoes.
"Heh, I should be thanking you, this is the first time I cooked dinner in a few years."
I drop my papers from work near my bed in the corner and scuffler over to the table. Quickly I load a plate. Grabbing a fork I get ready to dig in, only to hesitate suddenly.
God, I haven't seen this much food since my promotion party.
Lightly I stick my dull wooden fork into the potatoes.
It slides right through.
Taking a moment, I inhale the meal through my nose.
'Wait, why the heck am in hesitating? It's only going to get cold.'
With that logic, I stick the gravy covered potato in the mouth.
It's only one bite yet the amount of flavor given it enough to make me glow. The warmth from the potato heats up my whole body, a stinging sensation hits my cold ears.
"Is it good?"
I look back up at isabell. Swallowing quickly I answer.
"Mmmhmm, you're a great cook." she blushes at that but quickly recovers from my flattery attack.
"I decided to take some hours off work so I can spend some more time with you two; now you won't have to cook every night, okay?"
"Mmkay, but I'm okay with cooking sometimes if you ever need a break or… maybe sometime we can cook together."
Isabella smiles lightly the dimples in her cheeks activated further by the muscle movement.
God, she really is beautiful. I hope I got some of those genetics.
"Okay. oh, by the way, i have something for you two."
I perk up in my seat as well as maria.
"Presents?" she asks, a hopefully. Ever since I made maria her dolls calling them presents when I gave them to her; she asks for them all the time.
"Something like that.." she goes to her room rummaging around for a minute.
When she comes back out she holds a necklace and a small bangle-like bracelet.
She moves to me first, clipping the necklace once around my neck.
"This was given to me by your father. You know how he was a trader, and well these are some of the seeds he collected along the way. About half of them are mulberry seeds. Remember our last name, Amoreyra?" I nod. "Well, it means 'of the mulberry', as soon as I told him that he gave me this to remember him by."
When she steps back I take the necklace in my hand. The design was simple, a sphere glass container with a lot of seeds inside. But it was beautiful. It almost looked as if the seeds were colorful beads woven together.
"And for you Maria." I look over at mother as she picks up the bangle for her. "Is this bangle. Your father used to weave grass for me, and he made these bangles all the time. Unfortunately, I only have this one left. But I want you to have it, as your fathers and your family's memento."
And Maria, being Maria, barred into my mother leaving kisses and thanks yous.
I trailed behind soon after.
It was a good night.
My mother told me my birthday, may 3rd apparently. Though she didn't tell me the year, not like I knew the year anyways. It was probably around 2013 or something considering I died in 2007. I wonder if they made more I phones…
Not like I could buy one now, but know maybe someday. they looked pretty cool compared to my old blackberry.
I would be six tomorrow. Maria's birthday was august 18th so we still had a while to go before that.
After work today I told Alda, I wasn't going to work tomorrow because it was my birthday.
Guess what she did?
She told me to 'go pick a book you like, it's on the house.' I hadn't realized it until now, but we were actually pretty close.
I got a book on the french language. Before I died I spent a few years learning to speak french, but then I got bored of it. In Portugal, a lot of people actually spoke french. Mainly the wealthy of course, but there were also visitors from France since it was just across the border.
Dinner was already made when I got home. Isabel had been doing this since we had our talk which was about, 4 months ago. I still made dinner occasionally but it was easy to get used to someone else making dinner for you.
"I'm home."
"Welcome back."
"Sissy!" Maria, jumped up and down holding something in her hand.
"What's this?" she shoved the cold object in my hands, it looked like a shell.
"I found it near the pier a few weeks ago!"
"..you didn't steal it did you?" if she did it would not be on purpose, but there were several groups of fishermen's working at the pier, sometimes collecting various items from the sea.
"No, i FOUND it." Her eyes squint accusingly as she shakes her head.
"Alright. But you know it's not my birthday yet right? And you don't have to get me anything either."
"I know but I wanted to get you this early. And I had to get it for you, you're always giving things to me, it wouldn't be fair. " I tilted my head to the side. Did she think it was some kind of 'i give you now you give me' system?
I guess around here you can pick that up by the way everyone acts, but family, family is different. The only thing you need in return is love and acceptance.
"Maria, I give you things because I have the resources to, and in return, you give me your love. You don't need to give me anything else because you're more than enough."
"I LOVE YOU, SISSY." She attempts to jump on me, but her height is greater than mine. So after an awkward struggle, she settles with hugging me tightly.
"Love you too."
.
"Girls! Dinners ready."
The food looked like something from a book. The fruit was cut into various shapes resembling plants and animals. The vegetables were all cooked and put into a big bowl, with leafy plants holding it bread was full of large grains and bits off seeds, a light steam rose from the cut bread.
What looked the best was the fish. The only meat I had since being reborn was rat. Some of the homeless in the slums, would catch them and grill them over makeshift fires. I was given rat meat around a year ago, and it wasn't too bad. It probably only tasted as good as it did because I hadn't had meat in 5 years though.
Fish was common in the wealthier markets of Portugal, but you didn't find any in the slums. It was also more expensive than fruits, grains, and vegetables, so we had never had enough money to buy it.
The quantity of the food presented on the table was small, but the presentation made up for it. Compared to the amount of food we usually had it was a lot.
"This looks great." The smile on my face was so large it hurt. My cheeks stung as I sat down. "Thank you mother." That was the first time I ever called her mother. It was usually isabell, of sometimes I called her bell.
I knew it was somewhat rude, but it was hard to call her something I didn't feel she was. It was difficult to call her something, that reminded me of my mother before. Whom I grew fonder of over death. But now, seeing how she worked so hard to raise us, so hard to be the best she could be, and fixing the damage done by her mistakes. I couldn't help but call her mother, because to me now, she was, and I would love her unconditionally as she did me, forever.
That does not mean my mother from before was replaced, that does not mean I don't love her anymore, nor that I have forgotten. My heart has only grown to love more, and I only have more to love than what I had before.
"Just wait til tomorrow night. this was just a warm up" My mother's smile was small but fond, and I could see the tears forming in the corner of her eyes. Maria hopped up and down a fork in hand.
"Let's eat, let's eat!"
My family's adorable.
Dinner did not last long, not when three hungry people attacked it. By the end, we were all full. For the first time, my stomach hurt from eating too much.
I practically rolled to my blankets when it was time for bed. Though we spent a long time talking and playing games that i "came up with". They were really just games I remembered from before, hangman, tic-tac-toe, charades, games like that. Simple with no materials needed. Maria, in particular, enjoyed hangman and drawling out the body in the hard packed dirt floor. While mother grew fond of charades. I just wish we had some board games, they had more creativity and story to them. Or cards, solitaire was one of my main pastimes as a child.
I snuggled deeper into my blankets holding maria's arms close to me. Our bodies intertwined as we slept beside one another. My toes curled tightly as I attempted to fall asleep. Excitement for tomorrow and from the time we had tonight still filled my mind, along with memories of the past.
I don't remember falling asleep, it felt like I was awake for hours -just thinking-, but I remember waking up.
At first, I thought the bangs on the door where a dream. In my disoriented sleep state I could not process what was going on, or the sounds and movements around me. Maria being a light sleeper was up and opening the door before I could even sit up.
I wish I taught her more about the world around us, how it worked That not everyone was kind, and to be trusted. I believed teaching her about the truth of the world would take away her child innocence, or make her sad like it once did to me.
Ignorance may be a bliss, but at least knowledge keeps you alive.
The man at the door came in quickly in jerky movements, eyes moving feverishly around the room until they locked on maria.
"Where is isabell!" I flinched at his shout, it spread to the entire room, small objects literally vibrating from the loud noise.
Maria began to shake. Even with her kind and trusting nature, she knew when there was something dangerous around.
She took a few slow steps back. Glancing over at me, her eyes screaming help.
I was frozen in shock, I still wasn't sure if this was reality or a figment of my imagination.
The man stepped closer as she moved back saying once more; "I said where's isabell! I know she lives here!"
This time when Maria didn't answer he took her by the shoulders and began to shake her roughly. "Answer me you simple brat!"
The door in the back swung open and Isabell was there in her light night gown.
"Let go of my child!" She rushed forward to reach out to maria.
I could see the muscles in his hand react when he saw my mother. The grip on maria tightened and she yelped.
Before my mother could get to her, maria was thrown to the side.
A loud yelp escaping her mouth before she went still.
Too still.
Isabel froze.
Her mouth opened and closed a few times as if she was trying to say something that wouldn't reach her mouth.
The sound that finally left her mouth after numerous attempts, was like a banshee. Hollow, dead, defeated, it was too shrill, too loud. I never knew a human could make a sound like that.
Only when she screamed did her body react, but by then it was too late. the strange man who broke in at the dead of the night had his hands wrapped around the throat of my mother. My Mother!
She was pushed up against the wall, still screaming, arms flailing around. The man began to shout about something, saying that she told his wife about them. And that she ruined her marriage, his life.
I was shaking like a pathetic leaf in the wind, goosebumps rising on my skin.
Isabell locked eyes with me. Her screaming stopped. She whispered something I couldn't hear, but I saw the movements her mouth made.
'RUN'
The silent word was followed by lifeless eyes as her head when limp in his hand.
He started to shake her like he didn't know he killed her. Like he didn't know she was dead. 'DEAD'
I think that's when my mind began to process everything.
"Mother…" My whisper was so quiet I barely heard it myself. Yet the murder of my mother did. His eyes met mine in a matter of seconds. There was regret, maybe fear, and anger swimming in the deep cerulean orbs.
Quickly I moved to my sister saying, "Maria com'on, get up, we have to go!" She did not move.
Her face was already shades paler, her eyes dead.
My shaky hands reached to her heart. There was nothing.
"What have I done, what have I done." The realization of what had happened began to occur in the murderer's mind as well as mine.
I stood up, my pathetically small shaking body barely supporting me.
My thinness and unnaturally small form were normal to me, but when I saw other people, people who always had enough to eat, or who weren't born by a starving mother. it looked like I was merely a mouse cornered by a hawk.
I wanted to hurt him maybe even kill him, my body trembled in fear and rage. But one step forward and my logical side took over.
.
The truth was, I couldn't kill him not with the materials I had around me, not with my body, and not with my morals.
'weakling'
So I ran, out of the house into the street.
'coward'
Outside, onlookers in their night gowns crowded around my door.
Another wave of rage filled me as I realized they were here as soon as they heard the shouts, yet they did nothing to help.
When I heard the steps behind me, the fear once again took over the anger and I continued in my flee.
I ran and ran, trying to outrun what just happened, trying to outrun the feeling of death.
But how can you outrun something that will always be with you?
.
.
It was my birthday.
Six years,
And not once did I tell my mother how I truly felt,
Not once did I let her know,
How much I loved her.
.
.
History tends to repeat itself.
I was a mess. My days were spent crying. My nights were spent awake, fearing the memories that seemed to always be on my mind.
Nothing made me move. I stayed curled up in a ball at the back of an alley in a corner. My stomach felt as if it was eating itself inside out. My throat was dry.
By the third day, i could not whimper in my crying fits. When I opened my mouth prompting it to speak, nothing came out.
By the fourth day, i had no tears left.
By the fifth day, i couldn't tell if I was dead or alive.
It only took one night to turn my life into hell all over again.
.
.
.
.
I don't remember being taken in. But I woke up being tended to. A hot towel on my forehead, thick blankets over my body, and I were in a bed. A real bed.
I almost sat up in shock, but the slightest movement caused immense pain and I lay back down, weak whimpers and moans escaping my lips.
The woman who was previously hovering over me was a few feet back from me now.
I focused my eyes on her, squinting to see her better.
"Um, hello." Her hands reached out holding another towel.
"I was just changing your towel, but it's good to see that you're awake." Taking a few steps closer she continued.
"I found you when I went out shopping and brought you back here." She sat at the edge of the bed, replacing the wet towel with a warmer one.
"You see I'm a nurse, and you were on the edge of death when I found you." her hands brushed my hair. I flinched at the contact. It reminded me too much of my previously very touch feely sister.
"Honestly, I wasn't sure you would make it. But now I'm positive you will have a full recovery!"
The silence after that, became tense and uncomfortable real fast.
The woman began to shift, and opened her mouth once more, to fill the void of sound.
"You do speak Portuguese right?"
My internal panicking began to calm down, and revert back into the previous depression. I relaxed my face on the outside, which probably looked like a slack-jawed, wide-eyed, simpleton, before.
Remembering my manners I proceeded to the process of speaking, swallowing a few times to written my mouth.
"Um, es..i .. portu'o.. gese..um tank." What came out when I opened my mouth sounded more like a dying cat choking on a bird.
nevertheless, the young woman beamed.
"I'll get you some water, just stay right there alright."
It was only a few short minutes before she came back. Peeking inside before squealing girlishly as I made eye contact.
In her hands was a glass of water, and a bowl of soup.
She set up a tray above my body and helped me sit up, placing the food and drink on the try shortly after.
Handing me a spoon she preceded her awkward antics, sat to the side looking over medical equipment.
Taking the water first, I began to drink.
It actually hurt to feel the cool water on my raw dry throat. But the glass was still empty in a matter of seconds.
When I was done I attempted to talk once more, coming out with something we both could actually understand.
"Thank you."
My arm hurt as I reached for the spoon.
Out of the corner of my eye, i saw the woman move forward to help me, so I quickly plopped the spoon down in the soup, wanting to avoid assistance.
The first bite warmed my very being.
It was so rich and creamy, like nothing I had ever tasted before.
My next spoon fulls where quicker as I shoved as much food as I could in my mouth.
"Careful, don't eat too fast, it will all just come up." The woman gently grabbed by hand, moving it to the soup then into my mouth.
It was weird at first, being fed, being treated like a child again.
But after a while I got used to it, and soaked up the bright aura she emitted, to lighten my dark one.
.
When I was done, she patted me on the head before grabbing the empty dishes.
"I'll be back tomorrow. Try to get some sleep alright."
She did not leave until I nodded.
The room was quiet when she was gone, and I was left to my own thoughts.
The haunting memories and regrets continued.
I don't think this pain will ever leave.
A routine has formed during my stay with the nurse lady.
She comes in at the break of dawn, checking me over and working on healing me.
Nothing is wrong with me, I just have a few bedsores, and extreme weakness from my starvation.
Next, she usually makes some easily digested food and water for me to consume.
I started with just one meal per day, but as my body began to recuperate that number grew to two.
Everyday she does this.
My lack of response to her numerous questions a queries does not stop her resilient effort to help me.
But she can not help my mind.
Again, the only family I had ever known died.
When I first found out I had been reborn, I thought my relationship with my new family would be similar to good friends. And it started out like that, at least with maria.
Isabell was a person I grew familiar too. I didn't like her too much, but when she admitted her love for her children I couldn't help but love her back.
In only a few short months I felt greater love than I ever had in my life before. Now, what first gave me the love was gone. I wanted to forget them, the memories shared and the good times with them, but that wouldn't be fair or right.
If I forgot everything they gave me, what would carry them on even in death?
They taught me more about life than a thousand books or lectures. And they made me happy. If that's what it takes to be happy, then I'll do it all again.
I'll rise to power and do something I never did in my life before, I'll love. I'll love the world, and my life no matter the pain it brings. And as long as it tries to bring me down, I'll keep on living, just to piss off whatever overlords brought me back to life.
Yes, that's what I'll do, just like before I will succeed, and rise, no matter what.
"Paula."
I looked up from my bread to the nurse. I had been with her for at least four days, maybe more. Though I hardly doubt I was unconscious a whole day when she first brought me in. As far as my recovery, well I felt alright.
The bed sores appeared to be mostly healed. After the first day, I was able to move. The bedsores where only stage one. Though still there they were fading and should be gone in a few days.
I was still skinny, too skinny for a kid my age, but I wasn't starving. It's not like I had a lot to eat before, so my physical state has pretty much fully recovered.
But back to the present;
"What?" We had been sitting here in silent for a good several minutes then nurse chick springs up a one-word sentence out of nowhere.
"That's my name it's Paula." Oh, well that makes more sense. "If it's alright..umm… what's your name?"
I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell her. My name shouldn't be anywhere, at least not now.
"Nerilla." once again the lady's….er. Paula's smile turned unnaturally bright.
"You're almost fully healed. Just a few more days. I was wondering if you wanted to spend dinner with my family tonight."
"Alright."
"Okay, well let's get you dressed. I washed your clothes a few days ago."
"Thank you."
Dinner with the Acosta's -I found out Paula's last name shortly after being introduced to the family- was a strangely normal experience. By that, it means it seems like something out of a tv show, very domestic. The child though sometimes slips up, excitement and curiosity clear in his eyes when he asks me questions. It's clear where that came from.
The father, or Paula's husband, is a quiet man with a stern gaze. He doesn't say much throughout the whole ordeal. Nodding yes or no every once and awhile, and sometimes sharing few words to Paula, sum up his communication throughout dinner.
I spend most of my time talking to the boy, his name is Caio, I think. Paula occasionally starts conversations every now and then, but when both of them are quiet we eat in silence.
Eating with Paula's family has been the norm for the past few days. I still spent most of the time in my room though. My days were spent reading the various medical textbooks in the room. Paula would bring more in after I finished a book. All of them were on doctoring or nursing, but it was better than sitting around and staring at the walls.
The boy from dinner, Caio, came in every day after meeting me. He would talk about almost anything and was easily excitable.
So sometimes I would make up stories to tell him.
.
As I made my way to dinner tonight I stopped in the halls. I could hear them shouting as soon as I neared the stairs, they were shouting about me.
"You can't keep her like some kind of pet! The kid has already cost us too much money Paula, we can't afford her anymore!"
"We can't just abandon her, she probably has not one left!"
"We can't take in every orphan you see! We already have another child on the way! There is no money for three kids."
"I can't just let her go.."
"Be sensible Paula. You don't even know this child, she could be dangerous!"
"I may not know her but she's just a child, a fairly remarkable child and my days with her have not been long but they have been long enough for me to form a bond."
"woman your empty-headedness has increased with age, she leaves, that's final."
I continued walking after he said that, my decision was made, I don't know what I expected from them. Paula had already healed me. I was only drifting here, no progress was being made. I was looking for answers, I guess. But now I've found them.
"You can't te-"
"It's okay ma'am 'ill leave." She opened her mouth again to interrupt but I beat her. "Thank you for taking care of me, and healing my wounds. I'm sorry I can't pay you back if we ever meet again and I am more fortunate I promise to pay you back. But for now good bye"
I quickly turned away making my way to the door with only the clothes on my back, I'd never admit it out loud but Paula kinda grew on me.
.
"Wait!" I turned my head to the cry, I was not even out the door when Paula rushed forward shoving some coins in my hands.
"Take this, it's not much, but it may buy you a few meals." her eyes watered as she examined my face.
"Thank you." my arms wrapped around her almost the same time hers wrapped around mine.
"Be safe, and take care."
I nodded and with that I was off, walking forward into the unknown area.
I don't think I would ever see Paula nor her family again.
I was lost.
My not so dramatic exit and somewhat watery goodbye with Paula was forgotten as I examined the terrain around me.
Nope.
Not familiar at all.
I rose my pathetically weak arm up and spun it around, choosing a direction at random.
'Okay'
My walk only lasted for 10 minutes, stopping shortly to look at something I caught in the corner of my eye.
It was a newspaper, old and a bit tattered.
I looked at the date; May 8th.
It was old I knew that at least. Still, i skimmed through it looking for any information. Maybe I report on my family's death…
To my dismay, there was no such thing, for all I knew the bodies were still probably there, rotting.
Even if I could find my way back, I'm not sure if I would want to. There was nothing there for me.
Except for my papers.
Damn.
I would just have to write them again. It's time to say goodbye to my family, there not here anymore.
I flipped back to the front of the page looking over it once more.
'Wait.'
I examined the date.
'What'
I read it again.
May 8th, 1767.
A/n: and that's it for this chapter. I hope you liked it despite my lack of writing ability.
Sorry bout that.
I will be using history and the hamilton play as references for this fanfic.
I really hope you like it. But if you don't then please let me know in reviews so I can improve my writing and story.
This took me about, 2 weeks to write, a little less. I did not do much editing though, so sorry for any silly mistakes.
*reis is the currency in Portugal's back then.
I will try to update every two weeks or week in a half.
I don't have much planned for the future of this story except for maybe the first 6 chapters, so if you have any suggestions feel free to let me know.
Next chapter will have a main character from Hamilton...probably.
Anyways, I'm really tired of writing so I'm keeping this a/n short.
Thank you for reading :)