The air was cold with the morning chill, a mist still lingering and crawling over the grass outside. A young girl was deep asleep upstairs in her bed, her mother and father down stairs and very much awake. The mother was pacing near the table where the father sat, his leather-like hand stroking his scraggly, graying, beard. His eyes appeared sunken against his sun-dried skin; the hair atop his head was thick with grey wisps accenting the rest of the midnight black hair.

"Can you sit down, woman? Yer driving me complete nuts." His gritty voice was low and commanding as his eyes watched his wife pace.

" Sit? Hmph, only after that- that- scoundrel has come and gone!" Her voice was shaking and nervous, matching her shaking hands as she squeezed and twisted them together.

"Thar aren't no use worryin' about stuff we 'ave no control ov'r." His accent was thick, more than it had been in quite some time. It made his wife stop and look at him. It was then that he realized how much she had seemed to age over time. Her once vividly green eyes were now hazel and dull, where there had once been softly blushing cheekbones were now wrinkles and cheekbones that aged her even further. Her once soft mousy hair was no more, instead he sported thin wispy, graying hair. How had he not seen it before?

"No control? what are you talking about 'no control'?" her eyes showed anger and anxiety as she spoke. " I , not you, had no control! You! You made the promise, the very promise I never in my life wanted to keep. Why would you do such a thing to me? to her!" she pointed upstairs, indicating the sleeping girl.

"Me? Yer mad at me? Really, Grace, 'ave you lost er'ything in that gourd of yers? I had no fucking choice and you know that! would you rathered I 'ad died?" He had stood up and looked at his wife. She swallowed, looking away from him.

"That's not what I meant, and you know that. Why couldn't you just have paid him, or lied?"

"Grace-" A knock at the door silenced him. Grace could only hear her blood rushing in her ears, her heart in throat. "Micheal, please, don't answer it." She was whispering as if trying to pretend that they were no longer in the home, as if they hadn't just been having a bit of a spout just moments before. Her eyes were pleading, and Micheal almost wished it were that easy. Simply don't answer, keep your child, void the law of surprise. Unfortunately, that was how it worked, at least not this time. Micheal seemed to be holding his breath as he opened the door, viewing the barley man standing in front of him.

"Good morning, Micheal, " the man glanced past him, " Grace. I'm sorry, but it is time."

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Hello All! I'm so sorry that this wasn't exactly the best start, but it is a start, i have so many ideas for this story! Take it easy on me, my last account got disabled because i forgot my password so i'm starting over.

i do not own the characters ( well some of them i do)