Roman backed into the wall. A little girl was on his back, red in the face with her limbs going up and down in violent chaotic strikes. Likely half the neighbourhood could hear her screaming as if he was beating her with a stick. All he said was, "No."

Apparently denying her a second cookie was as devastating to her as someone stealing his home and all his possessions would be to him. When he didn't rush in with the cookie she flipped over and began to bang her head on the floor. That did it. I could hear my own voice scolding this child. She straighten up and stares up at me with tear stained cheeks.

"Stop it!" I said quietly but firm enough to make her angrily wipe the tears from her face.

"What do you say?"

The little girl's green eyes dropped to the floor, she pulled her lips between her teeth and rocked nervously on her heels.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Ro," she whimpered glancing up at him with glossy eyes.

"It's fine, princess," Roman said with the biggest smile on his face.

Suddenly the world was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of my thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by a hurricane. A tap on my shoulder momentarily brought me back to the outside world, but after a second I was once again lost. I could feel somebody trying to look at me, trying to stare me dead in the eye. The whole world simply felt low resolution, a bad quality movie. Confusion blossomed in my heart and I knew that sooner or later I would need to wake up.

I felt as though something —someone was just trying to reach out to me. I turned slightly to my left and made out a silhouette of a young child. I couldn't make out much except for the fact that she had the greenest eyes I ever saw.

Her eyes were the kind of green that mint ice cream gets jealous of. The kind of green that distracts you from everything around.

Her mouth moved and she clapped her little chubby hands excitedly but I couldn't hear what she was saying. She was talking but she wasn't. Her green eyes shone brighter as she made her way over to me.

As she got closer, I noticed that deep brown curls settled neatly on the top of her head.

It was the hairstyle all curly haired women wanted — perfect ringlets piled on her head with a few soft spirals about her face. It would have looked great in any colour, on anyone, but her brown hair against her pale, ghostly skin was perfection.

This little child from my previous dream stood before me and all I could think of was how much I wanted to sweep her up into my arms and never let her go. I couldn't explain the need to protect this child. There was nothing around that could be deemed as dangerous for a young child. It was a house that seemed so familiar yet I've never seen it before.

The house was a series of rectangles constructed of steel and glass. It was unapologetically modern. It stood amidst the manicures lawn as if beamed there rather than constructed. The roof was flat and there was no visible chimney. The front door was metallic and opened with both a key pad and biometric scanner. Inside was minimalist. The walls were fashionable shades of white and the floor polished concrete. There was no sentimentality for chintz but on the walls were the most astonishing black and white family photographs, which were far too blurry to make out.

There was no clutter of shoes or jackets, no clutter of any kind. The only organic matter in sight were white orchids on the dark cherry coffee table. The kitchen was large enough for an army of chefs, there were two ovens and acres of brown flecked white granite on which to prepare food. But in the cupboards there were no pots or pans, no spatulas or sieves. Upstairs every room was ensuite with a plasma screen, a king sized bed and a walk in wardrobe.

The little girl tugged on my shirt, she couldn't have been more than three years old, I knelt before her and she placed her hand on my shoulder, giving me the biggest smile revealing her deep dimples. She was beautiful —almost angel like.

"Hi," I said softly. This only caused her grin to grow wider, if possible.

Her mouth moved again but I couldn't hear what she was saying.

"I don't understand, sweetheart."

The little girl glances upward, her mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. Her eyes are fixed as if she's looking at something a yard behind my head.

For a moment, the world was a blur of dull colours. Then, as I properly awoke, everything came into focus.

Was that a memory?

What was that?

Jane reached into the front of her shirt and pulled out a gold necklace with a bright sapphire stone.

The necklace seemed so old, worth no value, but she held it tightly in her hand, string over fingers, because worth, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.

"This belonged to my mother," Shepherd had told her one day, reaching into an old jewelry box and pulling out the necklace.

"She left it with my brother to give it to me when I turned eighteen. She wanted me to give it to my daughter," she gently placed the necklace into the palm of Jane's hand and closed her fingers around it.

"Someday you'll give it your daughter."

She pulled and tugged at the necklace gently, sitting with her legs crossed at her ankles.

She stood on the brink of something she couldn't describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on her shoulders and she struggled to take even a single step forward. It was too much. All of it. And somehow, she kept moving. But every step cost her. The darkness grew darker; the pain grew sharper; all of it seemed to only grow in strength and she began to wonder if things could ever get better.

But she never said a word. Sometimes she would wonder if that smile— the horribly fake smile— is ever seen through. If someone ever notices that sad, broken look in her eyes that she sees everytime she looks into the mirror. If they see beauty where she sees ugliness.

And then she laughs, a bitter, sarcastic laugh, at herself. Nobody cares. No one notices. They never seem to, do they?

"What's wrong?" Shepherd asked suddenly. She had been so caught up in her miseries that she didn't even seen when Shepherd came and sat besides her.

Jane subconsciously reaches for the necklace and fiddled with it nervously. Shepherd reached over and squeezed her fingers in hers.

"I didn't think you'd wear this," Shepherd said with a small smile. "I couldn't. After I lost my mother I just couldn't stomach to have anything of hers close to me"

There was something about Shepherd that drew people to her. I guess it didn't hurt that she was a good looking woman; but it was more than that. She was quiet, but not out of painful shyness. It was a reservedness, like a conscious choice to observe those around before she got involved. She remained friendly faced and welcoming in body posture.

Jane's mother. It still felt surreal at times. She had a mother. She had a family —people who loved her— the real her.

"It's still weird hearing you say you're my mother"

Shepherd laughs, her deep chuckle lifting the spirit of the room. Her face has a softness even when it comes to rest, as if she lacks the inner bitterness everyone's so sure she has.

"I've been having dreams, maybe memories. I'm still not sure"

"Memories?" She questions moving closer.

Jane nodded and repeated the details of her dream or memory to her. She instantly stiffened, her eyes darting around the room nervously and she dragged her hand through her deep curls.

Colour drained from her face, as white as a ghost, white as a sheet. She sat there rigid, rooted to the spot, Jane noticed the sweat gathering at her brows and she just knew something was horribly wrong.

"What?"

She shakes her hear sadly and drags herself to the end of the couch.

"Mom?"

Her eyes sparkled, the light making them look alive. Their light brown color was soft, the exact shade of a latte. A ring of gold hung inside her iris, adding another layer of depth to her already beautiful eyes.

"Remi.." She trails off, clucking her tongue. She drags her lips between her teeth and looks up at her with a soft smile.

"I have something to show you," she pats her hand gently before getting up and walking over to her bedroom.

Five minutes later, she returned with a puzzle box similar to the one Jane had left Roman.

"This has everything you need to know about that particular little girl"

I stared at the thumbnail image of the video for what felt like hours. It was a blurred image of the little girl from my dream. She wore the biggest smile, her green eyes piercing and her brown curls fell on her shoulders in soft ringlets.

Am I ready for this?

What if I don't like what I see?

I drew in a deep breath and moved my fingers gently against the power button.

Come on! You can do this.

Once again fear found me. It spoke to me in its cackling voice. It told my legs to go weak, my stomach to lurch and my heart to ache.

Before I could talk myself out of it I pressed the power button and the screen immediately came alive revealing to me a smiling Oscar, a pang of guilt swept through me as I remembered all of the nights I spent with him instead of in my safehouse. I would never admit this out loud to anyone but I missed him. Alot.

The fresh grassy green color swirled into an Atlantic blue as he gazed into the lenses. I could feel myself becoming hypnotized by the changing colors. He smiled and spots of gold danced in his irises.

"Alex is finally three soon she'll be attracting boys and I can't say I'm happy about that," he said seriously. Then all could be heard was shuffling until the camera flipped and I saw myself tending to a cake, my face covered in frosting. It was a snowman in rich velvety layers, topped with cream cheese frosting and coconut flakes. His nose was a brilliant orange carrot of fondant icing and his eyes were belgian chocolate.

"The perfect winter cake to make for the kid who thought snow was better than sun."

Oscar ran his hands up and down my arms and places a gentle kiss to the side of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

"You think she's gonna like this?" I asked, leaning my head onto his broad shoulders.

"The kid likes Roman. She'll definitely enjoy this," he said with a soft chuckle.

"Idiot," I rolled my eyes playfully at him and elbowed him in the side.

I watched on as I tended to the cake in silence, Oscar's hands wounded loosely around my waist as he littered my neck with gentle kisses.

"Thank you," he said suddenly.

A small smile crept its way onto my face but I didn't look back at him.

His lips were twitching, but his eyes looked blurred as if filled with tears.

"For what?"

Before he could respond the peace was shattered by a child, running, screaming with delight.

The only thing I can make out beneath her moving hair was a smile that could light up any day, no matter how dark.

"Her" was his simple response.

"Alex, hey. Come here, look what mommy made you," Oscar cooed at the little girl. She stopped bouncing around long enough to look over at the cake. She looked on with sheer amusement before a wide smile took over her entire face.

"You're the bestest mommy in the entire world," she cried happily, hugging me from behind. I knelt down to her level and attacked her face with kisses. She shrieked and hid behind Oscar.

"Daddy, help!"

I heard some more shuffling then the camera set on a pile of books, taking us all into the frame.

Oscar scooped the little girl up into his arms and kissed her on the top of her head.

"Daddy's got you. Daddy's always got you," he promised, staring at her adoringly.

"I love you guys. You're the best parents,"

I watched as I wiped a stray tear away from my eyes.

"Hugs!"

I rushed into Oscar's arms and we both held onto Alex tightly placing kisses on her cheeks and wishing her a happy birthday.

Then suddenly without any warning the video stopped. That memory stopped.

Minutes after the video, I sat still besides Shepherd, with my arms crossed and my eyes locked on the blank screen. It takes her awhile to realize that I was not alright with this news. She gets up on her feet and says, "What's wrong?"

She puts her hand on my right cheek and leans her face closer. I shove her hand away.

"Don't" Just a simple word, but it brings tears to my eyes.

I have a child. Oscar and I had a baby.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be ready for this kind of thing just yet." She said gently, covering my face with her hands and wiping away my tears with her thumbs.

"You want me to trust you yet you keep my daughter from me. Does she even know that I'm back? I'm shouting at her now. She looks shocked but she places her hand to the back of my head and pulls me towards her, burying my face into her chest.

"I'm sorry." She sounds like she's chocking. I bury my face in her chest for a second; it's so hard, but warm and safe. She's my mother but I hate her right now for hiding something like this from me.

I sobbed into her chest unceasingly, hands clutching at her jacket. She held me in silence, rocking slowly as my tears soaked her chest.

"Does she think that I abandoned her?" I asked into her now wet shirt.

"No. Alex knows how much you love her."

"Can I meet her?"

Please let me know what you all think about this.

Reviews are always appreciated. x