Love Letters to the Faceless and Nameless
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Oh dear oh dear oh dear! Sorry to all! I swear, I went to post this last Tuesday and my laptop decided to go outdawack and it hardly works anymore =( I'm currently working from my dads laptop, anyway…my biggest apologies! Pray for my dying laptop please! DX
But, moving on!
Yozah! Here we are in part four!
Can I just say one thing? I love you guys as reviewers. You're reviews are always so long and complex! Not saying that a "good job" isn't appreciated, but the way you leave me paragraphs is awesome! It really makes me feel loved by my readers
Bellatrix Nellie Le-Lovett - Ah yes! What a wonderful review! Thank you love. I'm glad that you're watching and loving Doctor Who! (I could go on for hours about it, so instead, I'll just message you, sound fair? XD) I'm glad you liked the last chapter so much =)
Sheila Chiaroscura - And another wonderful review! Glad you liked. As an actress and a writer, it's a great compliment for me for you to say that my character is complex! Much love!
Maxine the unknowingly admired - Well here you are then!
Burma - Oh jeese! I'm glad you read way too deeply into the stories! Glad you stuck around until Toby and Sweeney! Hope you're as excited as me!
WHOAWHOOOOO!
Special award to all my reviewers who ever reviewed Love Letters to Remember on account of I GOT 61 REVIEWS! That's one whole more review then Love Letters to My Unborn Child!
I swear you guys, I never though I could beat 60, but you just barely did it! XD Haha, thanks! Love you guys!
Love Letters to the Faceless and Nameless
Ella's POV
Chapter one
Date? I hardly know anymore…
I had been walking past that shop for…I can't even count how long…hours? Days? Years? Not years…I can't possibly be that old…now can I?
I can't say what made me finally want to step inside…besides the fact that it was poring rain and I was utterly soaked. And I was tiered of being so!
Three years
That's a long time to be wet, cold, and lonely.
Didn't feel that long. You're face was still fresh in my mind, your love still fresh in my heart, your doings were still fresh in my clenching and unclenching fists. But I didn't hate you anymore.
Three years.
That's a long time. And after so many nights alone and so many nights feeling like you're in a living Hell, even someone who you used to think was your Hell becomes your Heaven.
So Heaven is just sitting there in front of me.
And the "shut" sign is in the door, but it's poring rain on my bundle of hair that I haven't brushed for three years and I long to feel the burning candles indoors on my face, warming me and drying me.
So I knock.
Three times.
One for each year of Hell.
And you answered.
You used to call me your angel.
But standing in the brilliant light coming from inside your pie shop through the threshold to splay over me, and me squinting into the brightness and shivering in the rain, you became my angel.
You didn't even ask any questions. You just grabbed my shoulders and dragged me inside, muttering something I couldn't hear over the pounding of the rain. You slammed the door with your foot and the bell on the back of it jingling like crazy even made me jump. Like it was a civilized noise that I hadn't heard for years - simply the slam of a door.
"Love what on earth are you doing in the rain!" your voice kept me from saying anything in response. I've longed for it for so long. I couldn't tell anymore if I was crying or if it was just the rain in my eyes. I hoped I was crying. I felt like I was slowly going mad and emotion like that - it meant I still had a grip on something or another.
"Sit! Come on now! Sit you down!" you pushed me down in the booth - I remember that much despite being in such a hazy state. Sleep deprivation, starvation, dehydration, depression…these things will do that to yah.
You said "I'll be back in two shakes…I'll fetch yah…" something or another…I can't recall. You ran through a red curtain to the right of where you had sat me and left me alone to look around the room.
Green…you liked green, eh? The color of sea-side-cottage-walls and fresh grass and the clean sea water when the sun shined off it just right. I still remember that stuff, despite not being around any of it for so long. These are the things I wish to see again.
It smelled of flour, a choking kind of smell I never particularly liked, but it made the room hot and enclosed… and I welcomed it.
Before I could get much more from my surroundings, you had rushed back in with layers of blankets and a drink. I took the glass, my hands and arms still shaking, You always told me to never take water from a stranger…but…what counts as a stranger anymore? Without asking anything of me you threw several of the sheets around my shoulders and tucked them around me, taking care and asking a few times if they were comfortable and if I needed anything else.
I shook my head several times. Finally I managed to raise the glass in my hand. My trembling swooshed the liquid around as I brought it to my lips.
I grimaced suddenly at the taste.
Not water.
"Oh sorry love…were yah expecting water? Used to getting gin for the boy I suppose…sorry there…" you took the glass with one of your sideways smiles and half-eye-squints that meant an apology. I've missed that.
After getting a proper glass of water for me, you pulled up a little stool that sat somewhere around the table I found myself leaning more and more against and studied me.
Running your brown eyes up and down me up and down me…could you see?
You didn't ask where I'd come from, or how'd I ended up here, or why I intruded in on your home or how long I was planning on staying…you just asked, "Whadda yah call yourself, love?"
Unfortunately, that was the worst question of them all.
I didn't answer. I traced the moist brim of my glass with my grubby fingers. I took another sip of water and tried to pretend I didn't hear.
"Love?" you asked, probably beginning to wonder if I was mute or my ears didn't work properly. "Wot is your name?
In all your letters you wrote to me, two words were often misspelled. Not always, but enough for me to notice. Especially when used in dialogue, "Yah" instead of "You" and "Wot" instead of "What" I found it foolish and naïve at first… but as the years went on, I found that was what you used to remind me. I used to be ashamed of my deep cockney accent. Now I embrace it and long to hear it.
It made your accented voice like music. I've always loved the sweet sound music, taking up your likings for it, I suppose. But since I left, the only music I could ever hear was when I sat on the steps of church's on Sunday mornings (they wouldn't let me in, thought I was only there to steal the money passed around in the shiny plates).
Your voice was the sound of the whole congregation singing in happiness.
My voice was the sound of the preacher droning on and on during a funeral.
I looked into your eyes, deep and wondering, and I muttered, "I haven't had a name for almost three years…"
And it's started! Allons-y!
Review for next week!