Warnings! Under-aged drinking and drug usage, panic attacks, attempted murder, one-sided relationships, mental disorders, blind people, horrid treatment to others, bullying, some-what acurate and historical events, and utter completer wack. And I am not saying this again. It's the only warning you get, so if you have/get feelzy for anything of this, and yell at me later is not my fault after this chapter.
I know that most of you don't not want to even lay eyes on this rant, but it is necessary. This is Mexico, so expect a lot of Spanish. Long sentences in Spanish. So, while reading this, have something like, oh I don't know, Google translate close by, or ask nicely for me to translate these sentences. For that to happen I need at least 5 people to ask me. Also, if the dialogue seems funny, it is okay. In Spanish that is how dialoge is written, so you have to get used to it. Rant over, continue reading.
People say that blindness leads to weakness.
That was never my case.
I learned to use my other senses to guide me in my immortal life. My fingers can now "see" colors through them. My ears can distinguish the smallest of sounds, like the beating of hearts from each person.
However, being in a loud environment renders me useless.
One of these places include the airport of Adolfo Suarez Madrid-Barajas, in the middle of the city of Madrid, Spain. I strained my ears to listen for anyone in familiar, but I had no luck.
One shout brought that luck back around.
"¡Oye! ¿Dónde estas?"
Excuse me, my manners have slipped through my mind right now. Must be the noise in the airport. My name is Isabel Soto, but you can call me La Mexicana, or Mexico as many of you English speakers know. The voice was my papí, Antonio Fernandez-Carriendo, or Spain.
"¡Aquí! ¡Aquí estoy!"
I shout throwing my hand up in the air, hoping that by some miracle he does not lose me a-mist the ocean of people. In what seemed an eternity of standing in the chaos, I was greeted by strong, soothing arms and a familiar heartbeat.
"¡Dios Mio! I thought I lost you!" I quipped, A deep rumble erupted from his chest.
"I wouldn't lose you just like that. Plus, Roma would be mad if I would have lost you!" he replies, smoothing out some of my stray hairs, careful to leave the small, unruly curl, located at the top of my head, alone.
"Wait! He is here? Where?"
"Back at home. Now come on, we need to get back home, in order to make it back in time."
He took hold of the large suitcase, while I dragged my smaller suitcase behind. His unoccupied hand took hold of my own as he guided me through who knows where. We stopped momentarily, the sound of a door opening reaching my ears. He guided me into a seat, and cautiously buckled a strap of leather across my shoulder. A while passed, most likely that he was loading the luggage somewhere, before I hear a door opening to my left, a sigh, a snap of something into place, and a jangle of metal. Something clicked into my head, making me realize where we were at the moment.
"¿Me metiste en un automobile, verda?" I growled.
"Sí, y se que no te gustan," he replies.
"Whatever, so what are we doing later anyway?"
He goes into detail as of what we, oops I mean he, was planning. He had called a meeting, between many of the major countries, to introduce, well me. Only a handful of people know that I am Mexico. He tells me that he was invited a couple of friends before hand, so I can get familiar with them.
"Okay, that is enough. Now tell me, please, how the landscape is."
He begins to rant again how the streets look like, his favorite places, the one pub in which he got a fight with one of his drunken friends, and so forth. I begin to imagine every situation he tells me, laughing at the idiotic things he has done with his old age. Before long, the car ride of hell was over.
More sounds filled my ears, telling me exactly what was going on. My dad getting out of the car, him taking out the luggage, him opening the door, helping me with my seatbelt and grabbing my hand, helping me out of the car. My nose was greeted by the smell of familiar fruit and delicate pastry my dad once taught me before I was cursed by this horrid blindness. I took careful steps against the stone walkway leading to my dad's house, hoping that I wouldn't make myself look stupid in front of his friends. A creak of metal tells me that the door to the front, or back, had opened.
"¡Hola! ¡Ya llege!" Toni yells. The house remained silent. Then a voice caused my veins to go ice cold.
"Bounjuor! You are here! And who may this pretty mademoiselle be?"
Nope, nope nope, nope this can't be happening! I thought to myself. The man who caused me and my family so much pain on that fateful day of May 5, is nothing more than my father's friend.
The man who caused me to lose my eyesight, and the last time in which I saw my family and horrid destruction with them.
"Who i-is h-he?" I stuttered with fear. I felt as if my papi looked at me with a que-te-pasa-estas-loca kind of face.
"Chamaca, ponte atenta, que este hombre parado enfrente de ti es mi buen amigo Francis Bonnefóy, ó comó muchos lo conocen, Francía."
I felt my own blood drain from my face. They seemed to notice right away.
"¿Mi amor, what's wrong?" came the innocent question out of my father's lips.
My fear was instantly replaced by anger.
"Really? You ask me if I am okay, when you put the man who caused me to go blind, who ATTACKED MY DAMN COUNTRY," I inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly trying not to let my temper get the best of me, "in which he almost murdered one of your grand-kids, in which I sacrificed myself, my eyesight," I finish, venom dripping heavily from my lips.
I heard his heart pump furiously.
"It was you all of this time," he pauses, "we will need to talk later, France," he finished, adding emphasis in the word France. Another set of footsteps walked into the room.
"Kesesesesese! France is in trouble. Und, who is this?"
"I am La Mexicana, and you must be my father's friend. Do come closer." I insist.
"Kesesese! I see, I am zhe awesome Pru- I mean Gilbert," he replied, while walking in my direction.
"Oh, so you are Prussia. Now if you can only crouch a bit, okay that is perfect," I instructed, in which he followed sluggishly. Slowly, I placed both of my hands on his cheeks, moving my way around his face.
"Why are you doing this?" he murmured, heat seeping through his cheeks.
"Bueno, how do you think I can guess how you look like, idiota?" Now what color are your eyes? I whispered back.
"Red," he finished.
I took a step back, and built his face in my mind. as far as what I see, he does not seem that old, maybe twenty-five at most, subtle cheekbones, a glimpse of some pallid strands of hair, cocky smile, and to finish it off, those ruby eyes.
"So I am guessing that jou are blind, nein?"
I sighed. "Unfortunately, yes, by the idiot you see there," I clucked.
"Potato bastard, where are you!" fast paced footsteps came rushing in to this room. Panting was stopped short, only for me to get attacked from an unknown person.
"Ciao bella! I didn't think you would have a made it!" a heavily accented Italian voice reached my ears.
"¡Hola Roma!" I squealed back, taking him into a tight embrace. His body stiffened, not prepared for the reaction I would of had, but soon melted into the embrace.
"Are you ready to go kick some butt later?"
"Let me at least get settled first before ass gets kicked. Roma can you show me to my room?"
"Sure. Just give me a minute to get your things."
Noises were heard throughout the room, mostly footsteps and wheels rolling around on the floor, then someone's arm hooked at my elbow, dragging me to who knows where in the house. I ended up tripping over my own feet, being dragged carelessly through hallways.
"Watch where your going idiota!" I huff, trying to catch up to the man before me. He suddenly stopped, before opening a door, leading to what I believe is going to be my guest room for this weekend. Romano pushed me inside, bringing the suitcase with him. He shut the door immediately after that.
"Okay, Roma, since I do not trust anyone in the house besides you and papá, you need to help me get ready for later."
"What? Do I look like some type of chaperon to you, idiota?" he retorted
"Did I ask you, idiota? No, so get me my large suitcase." I command, taking off the sweatshirt I had on. I was sure that he began to blush when I lazily removed my shirt, leaving my torso exposed.
"Here it is, anything else you need?" he stuttered. A pregnant pause followed, causing an uncomfortable silence between the both of us.
I cleared my throat, awkwardly noting the situation that I had created.
"Sorry about that," I tell him, "can you get me my blue dress that I have in there. After that, you can leave."
Judging by the amount of noise being made, he was glad that I had offered him that option. He handed me the piece of cloth in my hand, and hastily walked out the door.
When the door closed behind him, I began to prepare myself, physically and mentally, for what was about to come.
So now that you are at the end, need to tell you something else. I modeled much of Isabel's character power thing from Iggy (no not this Iggy) off of Maximum Ride. Follow,favorite, and review! Bye!
