Disclaimer: I do not own the world of pokemon.
I do, however, own Meena, Nikita, André and Jay.
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This is a story about one of my pokemon characters, Meena. It is the story of a time in her young childhood.
Meena also appears in my fanfic 'The Birthday he Drew' as May's 13 year old friend and traveling companion. I made her up with that story and decided I really liked her and want to include her in more of my stories.
The idea for this story came to me randomly. Please give it a chance, as unlike many pokemon fanfictions, it has a main plot and some structure
Anyway..I hope you like it!
Comments and critism are very much appreciated Thanks!
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Imprison
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She hunched her schoolbag more securely over her 5-year-old shoulders as she stared ahead. Her reflection she stared at in the mirror was the spitting image of her father, according to her mother, but she never saw it. Sure, they had the same violet hair, but that most certainly was not what defined similarity. Firstly, her rounded face was unlike her father's harsh cheekbones and strong chin, which was covered with graying stubble. Her nose was petite and buttony like most children's were at her age, while his nose was long and hooked. She thought, after a few more moments of consideration, that perhaps her mother saw it in the eyes. Though Meenakshi's eyes were a slightly darker purple shade than her fathers (probably due to her mother's brown eyes), they had the same faraway look to them, as though their minds weren't in the moment, always someplace else, seeing things others didn't. Maybe they were.
Meena sighed and furrowed her brows in frustration. This was definitely not something she could do on her own. Her slightly pudgy fingers due to remaining baby fat were clumsy and not as adept as her mother's at performing complex motions. Her arms could not reach easily to the top of her head, while her mother could simply reach over her.
"Momma!" Meenakshi's lower lip started to tremble as she realized that this would be a task that was suppose to only be done by her mother. It was something she could never do on her own. Her mother had a special way of doing it, along with years of experience on her back.
"Meenakshi, honey, I'll be there in a minute," her mother called from down the hallway.
After many more failed attempts, the tears started to form behind Meena's glassy eyes. "Momma!" she repeated, growing as impatient as you'd expect a five year old to go.
Finally, her mother,
with her tall, thin frame and perfect silky chestnut hair, appeared
in the mirror's reflection via the doorway. When she saw what her
daughter was trying to do, she sighed and smiled a sad little smile.
"What do you expect to do when I'm not here?" She grabbed a
brush and immediately started to detangle Meena's hair. Every
stroke of the brush that Nikhita ran through her daughter's hair
was filled with affection and unspoken words. There were some things
that couldn't be said, and others that young children such as
Meenakshi would understand better through the simplest actions.
The violet haired girl remained silent, her eyes growing wetter with each stroke.
"You know Daddy will be here."
Meenakshi knew that this statement held truth as well as falseness. Her father, André, worked full time at one of Johto's largest hopitals, the Cherrygrove Medical Center. He was a skilled man who did what he did for the sake of others. His passion was helping people, and he would do everything that was in his power to get his jobs done. He was not a quitter. Unfortunately, in all his fervor to aide those at the hospital, he often forgot one certain little girl who needed him more than he realized. As a result, he often worked overtime, only coming home once he was satisfied, leaving Meenakshi and her mother faking smiles and pretending to forget that daddy and husband were not there.
Meena would grow up to see it almost as a betrayal her that her mother had left her with a barely present father at such a young age. Nikhita chose to follow her owns dreams partly to leave behind her loneliness instead of staying home and doing what she was suppose to do: be a mother. Of course, at the time, Meena didn't really understand why mommy had to leave. Nikhita told her daughter that she had to go away for work, but when Meena saw her mother on the television a few months later, she doubted her mother's words. So, she confronted her mother, who told her that at home, she felt pent up, like she wasn't where she was suppose to be. She had to follow her dreams. Meenakshi still didn't understand, so Nikhita explained it differently. "Do you remember the day I was leaving when you couldn't put your hair up in your pigtails the way I do them?" Nikhita said into the phone that evening. Her daughter remembered, so she continued. "Try to recall the way you felt. Feeling mad or frustrated that you can't do something the way you want it. Feeling like you would do anything just to get those pigtails just right. Do you know what I mean? That's how mommy felt being at home. Coordinating is my passion, honey. It's my pigtails. It's what makes me who I am." Meena would remember that conversation for years to come, understanding it more and more as the time wore on.
In a way, Nikhita was thinking of her feelings and her needs more than those of her daughter. Essentially, being a mother was all about the opposite: putting your life behind your child's'. But she needed an escape. She wanted to remember how it was to feel alive again, to love. As André no longer gave her those feelings, she turned to something else that she knew would: Pokemon coordinating.
Her mother was already working on the first pigtail. "Daddy's always working," Meena scowled. If she were older, she would probably have wondered who would be here to make her supper. But she was young.
"Your father promised he would come home from work early." Nikhita reassured her daughter. "Also, you know Paranjay will be around."
"Jay's always out helping pokemon," Meena looked at her mom in the mirror. "He doesn't even live in this house anymore!"
"Honey, he only lives two blocks away." Nikhita tried to reassure her daughter. Her eldest son, Paranjay, or Jay, as most people called him, had moved out a month ago. He lived with his fiancé, Claire, who, like him, was a Pokemon Ranger. This job kept them constantly on the move, camping out at different locations every few days. They returned to their apartment on weekends and days they weren't needed. It was convenient that he lived so close, but at the same time not so, as he was usually out.
Meena sighed in reply. She missed having her older brother around. He always seemed to have time for her, whether it was for teaching her things, like how to bake cookies or battle pokemon, or for playing with her, like with her favorite dolls. Meena especially missed his piggybacks, which he always seemed to have time for, as well.
"There we are." Nikhita had just finished her daughter's second pigtail. She proceeded to give her bangs a ruffle and a kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks mommy."
"You're very welcome. You're going to have to do them on your own from now on you know, or else just keep your hair down."
"No, no, no! I can never do them like you do." Meena also never liked having her hair down on regular days. It was something that always got in the way of her daily activities, such as eating lunch (she would always get it in her sandwich) or colouring with crayons (her hair would fall on her paper, blocking her picture). Her brother once suggested she cut it short, but that was something Meenakshi would not tolerate. In her whole five years of life, her mom's hair had always been long. As a kid, you're mother is the perfect model of how you should be. At least, that's how it was to Meena.
Anyway, Meena saved having her hair down for special occasions.
"You will get the hang of it. Don't worry. You're a lot like your father but you have my body. That means hands as well. I was just like you when I was little." Nikhita smiled at her daughter.
"Really?" Meena wrinkled her nose.
"Yes."
"Okay."
Nikhita looked down and then went in front of her daughter, sitting on her knees to get to her level. "Honey, no matter what, I love you," she said, looking Meenakshi in the eyes. "Remember that, okay? I love you. Always have, always will."
"Okay momma. I love you too."
Nikhita hugged her daughter, smelling the scent of her peach body wash on her creamy skin. "I love you," she whispered into her ear and kissed her cheek.
Then, she was gone.
