Disclaimer: I own not one of thee characters in this original book. Thy owner is named
Louis Sachar.
A/N: Hey everyone, its MAD4magik here, bringing you another story! I'm writing this because I'm bored and have absolutely nothing else to do. Hope you enjoy! Toodles!
Summary: I knew I was in love, the moment his blue eyes poured into mine. He was amazing, handsome, charming, and yet, mysterious. In no time we were married, and we could only be happier when our first child was born, little did we know, it would be our last.
A month after our beautiful baby girl was born, my husband disappeared. I knew he'd come back, he had to come back. Years went by and everyday I would look out our bedroom window, waiting for him. It was not until our daughter, Tori's, sixteenth birthday that I found out where he was. For the ten years I had waited, for the sixteen years I had pained, suffering as a single parent, he had been, dead.
Thy Love is Sweet
Chapter 1: Lying in His Coffin
"Jesse Nathaniel Black died last night. This man was great, and cherished in the hearts of many." The lies dripped out of the preacher's mouth like acid, burning my heart, triggering my tears.
"He was a husband to Elizabeth Annelise Rose-Black, and a father to Centaria Elizabeth Black. We will all miss him so." Lies, every word that escaped his lips drenched with filth and dishonesty. Yes, Jesse had been a husband, but he was no father of mine. He disappeared after my birth, and didn't return, ever. My mother, my brave mother, raised me on her own, taking care of me from birth up until now. My eyes wandered next to me, to her. She was standing motionless, tears falling down over her lovely face, yet she did not sob. She would not believe what the newspapers said, and had forbidden the preacher to speak of it. But I knew very well. My father, for the past sixteen years, had been married. Not only to my mother, but also to another woman. He had five children, all of whom were from different women, and I was just one of those five, probably the only one who did not grieve my father's absence.
I took my mother by the hand and led her away from his grave. Her tears irritated me only because she refused the disgusting, horrible, painful truth, and chose to trust the comforting lies. If it would not have been for my fear for my mother's sanity, I would have tried to convince her otherwise.
As we walked away from the church, a limo pulled up, and I pulled my mother away from the limo as I watched my father's second wife and third child step out of the car. The woman had tears in her eyes, and the boy, who looked about twelve, looked confused and dazed. I pitied him, for if only he knew what kind of man our father really was, he would not be depressed, and he might be overjoyed. The woman probably would have looked pretty had it not been for the mascara smeared down her cheeks. Her blonde hair curled softly to her shoulders, and her curvy body was covered in a long, plain black dress. Her son resembled the father we shared so well, from the pictures I had seen, that I could have thought it was really he.
Before I became angry and frustrated at the sight of my father's second family, I ducked into the driver's seat and slammed the door. My mother did not even flinch at the noise; she just sat there, staring off into space. With her safely buckled in the passenger's seat, I started the car and drove off, not waiting for the rest of my half-siblings to arrive.
I am extremely worried now, as I speed along the highway, about what will happen to my mother when I am gone. You see, the police have no idea how my father died, and since I seem to be the most likely suspect, they are sending me away to some juvenile delinquent camp until they have the case clearly sorted. I strongly disagree to this, because I tell them time and time again, just as I did a week ago in the courtroom, that the only time I ever got to see my father was when he was lying in his coffin! They understood that I had not saw my father, but seeing as I had, as they called it, supreme issues and mental and emotional rage toward him, I was, in fact, the most likely person to kill my father. It was all bull to me, but as hard as I tried to tell the judge I would never kill anyone, they disagreed and the judge declared I was guilty until proven innocent. I got your damn proof, I DIDN'T KNOW HIM!
My grandmother, my mom's mom, promised me she would be fine, but I feel the only one who could help my mother now is me. I know how mother's are, when something goes wrong, they just tell you that you were wrong and they were right, which usually doesn't help. I told my grandma that if anything was to happen, just bring her to the hospital and tell me when I get back. And when exactly do I get out of camp whateveritscalled? NOT UNTIL THEY BELIEVE MY GODDAMN STORY AND DELCARE ME INNOCENT! So as it looks, I am going to be there for a very long time.
A/N: I know that this chapter was very short, and rated for some language issues, but the rest of the story should be pretty clean. Tori, short for Centaria, is, as you might have guessed, going to be attended Camp Green Lake, as she will arrive in the next chapter. But what surprises will she find there? You'll just have to wait and read. Please Review and thanks for reading!