A/N: I'd 'ppreciate if you reviewed. But you don't have to. More of a story written for the readers sake, not the writers. But I do love those reviews. . Do what you can.
Disclaimer: Nope none of it. 'cept the plot...erg that's only visible to the keen eye is there.
In The End.
In the darkest of nights she'd sing, the warm, bubbly nights she'd hum. When I was crying she'd whisper words of hope. I secretly wished she wasn't only saying this to get me to stop crying.
She'd think I wasn't listening when she talked about what should have happened instead of did. I swear I heard her sob. I secretly thought that what happened wasn't bad.
The nights I was scared, I'd run into her room at the end of the hallway, and quietly crawl into her bed, listening to her steady breathing. I hoped that she'd always be there.
When that wasn't enough, I'd snuggle closer, growing warmer each second. I'd let my eyes scan the dark room thinking about a father. I pretended he was by my side.
Some nights I woke up from nightmares, screaming and panting heavily. She'd be there by my side, assurin' me everything would be okay--in the end. I imagined that everything was okay.
I'd lie there, pretending to sleep, thinking about what was at the end. She said, it'd all be alright when the we all learned to forgive and let go. Then she'd mention that I was good at it. I pretended I knew what she was talking about.
Some nights, we'd try to count the stars, dreaming that each one was a new chance for someone out there. I secretly wished that the chance was mine.
The times when we rode the train across the country, she'd tell me how I'd break hearts someday, and how I'd have to be careful not to have mined broken. I secretly knew that that wouldn't happen, for my heart was all hers.
When the snowy white winters came around, we'd walk outside the lonely streets, and enjoy the serene beauty that rarely came through London. I secretly thought, the beauty was in her.
By the time the warm summer nights came along, we'd stroll down the beach, and listen to the glorious sound of silence. I hoped that this ocean would someday be mine, too.
Once a carnival came to town, far away from here. The excitement and sweet aroma filled the warm mid-July air. We'd wander through laughing about how childhood was not to waste. I pretended that it wouldn't ever end.
As I grew older, my devotion to her never changed. I learned what had happened to me, but I took none of my silly wishes back, instead I added new ones in the back of my mind. On the night of my fourteenth birthday, I wished that I could relive one of those moments.
And then he came. A dark man that didn't seem too good with words. I watched from behind the door as me mum sang him a song about the barber and his wife that I knew well. I imagined that I could come out from hiding.
He asked to see me. He knew my name. But I didn't know him. He stepped closer, I stepped back. I saw his face rise with pain, and he walked away. I wished I knew who he was.
He stayed. He hugged my mum, and thanked her for something, before giving her slight peck on the cheek. I glared at the stranger. Not that I didn't like him, but he was to stay away from me mum until he was approved by me. I wished I could build up the courage to talk to him.
The snowy white winters soon melted into springs as she sat by my bedside. Though I was clearly old enough to take care of myself, I enjoyed her company as she stroked my cheek, whispering about how hard of a man he was.
The next day, I talked to him. Simply about me mum. He said nothing other than grunting and nods. But the he surprised me. Stood up and hugged me, whispering Johanna. I pretended mum was married to him.
I thought about the end. In the end. Everything would be alright. I sat out in the rain, as I imagined it all in my head perfectly.
Sometimes, I'd hear her mumble to the man about how she wished nothing had happened and I could have easily lived a better life, and that it was somehow partly her fault. I shook my head at this, and knew none of it was true; to me at least.
I watched as the barber would turn around from sharpening his razors and say that none of it was her fault, and that I had raised her well. I guessed that they were talking about me.
When spring was over, and a cloud of warmth hovered in the midsummer air, they grew closer. He smiled often, and came down to talk to me; and talk to her. I didn't yet have much to say, but I imagined a different conversation in my head.
When August arrives, things have changed. We've grown closer you see. A family we could easily be, if the two stubborn adults would just agree to marry. I imagine the day the finally agreed.
Years passed, and this time I was sixteen. Old enough to hear the whole story as Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett told it. Pain and agony in their familiar voices that now seemed as if they were in whole different time. I knew that in their heads, they wee. The happier, but sadder days.
His memory slowly faded away into the mist of the London fog. I knew he wouldn't forgive, and he wouldn't forget, but he wasn't afraid to tell her that he loved her, just to see her smile.
I watched as another quick July came creeping along. Listening to them talk out in a distance. Interrupted by cricket chirps. He held her close and whispered things in her ear.
As the leaves from the trees begin to turn a crisp orange, and yellow, my dreams finally begin to come true. He mutters something about letting go, and walks down the isle to his gorgeous waiting mistress. It hurts me to see that she's giving her heart away, but I know that mine is always hers.
The air still; almost silent. My shadows grow longer as the days do.
The setting sun slowly sinking down below the trees, slowly making its way under the London harbor. My eyes begin to sting from the glare.
I glance around me as the air begins to grow crisp and the lonely city chants one more for the warmth of the dying sun. For I know that one year has gone and another winter has come.
Another long 365 days. In these days, I will get a year older, and learn a bit more about myself and world around me. Before I go, I look back once more at where I stand, and the beauty and serenity that once surrounded the city, the happiness that my parents spoke of.
They'd talk about how once upon a time, when it was simply just Ben and Nellie, they'd be a lot like they were today. A place for eachother in their hearts. A happy place London seemed to be. A happy place it probably once was.
I wonder if I'll ever return again. I turn my back, listening once more to the whispers of my memorable childhood. I close my eyes and run, hard and fast, not daring to look back.
I see the day of when I was child, and dreaming of what lie across the ocean blue. I know that another 365 days waited for me, another long 356 days to come.
When the wintry season comes along again, I hold two twin bundles of joy in my arms. As they slept peacefully. I knew that someday the cruel world would take their innocence away from them. But my mum and dad would make it last.
I sat down on the small dining table, watching as one of the twins sat under a green canopy of leaves. The now familiar scent of ocean water, and sea air filled my nostrils. The nice neighbor boy waves at me with an innocent smile, and I wave back.
Mum and dad sit their laughing at something on the front page of the paper as the one of the twins comes walking in, seating herself beside her sister to eat her toast.
I can't help but to smile, remembering the same time of year, so many years ago. I knew that smiles and laughter would never fade, somewhere in the back of my head, I'd see the world through a little girls' eyes.
And I watched, as the sunlight reflected off the two wedding rings, fingers joined on the small table. The same sunlight glimmering off the girls' necklaces, and the light bouncing off my shimmering smile, shining a light on a new life.
For now I know that this isn't yet the end. I haven't yet forgotten, and probably never will, but somehow, everything's alright. And everyday I'll live with those childhood joys, and days I'd pretended I'd never grow old...and I'd live with not innocence, but hope high about my head.