Title: A Mother's Observation
Rating: K/G
Summery: She watches in semi fascination as her daughter move about the room, practically prowling in front of his bed and then leaning over now and then to run a bare hand carefully though his hair.
Disclaimer: Me no frakking own.
A/N: Okay, it's short I know but I'm hoping that this will get me over the…dry spell I seem to be having in this fandom. It's gonna have mistakes mainly because I'm at work and half a sleep at my desk, so if you see any just tell me in a review about weather or not you think it's total crap.
Later.
She finds it strange to be looking at the woman child that sits before her.
Hair dark with white and waist length, seeming to move all on it's own like it was trying to entice people to touch it.
Skin that once used to have a healthy peach glow is now paler than before. It reminds her of that movie she had watched will all those ballet dancers. Skin so pale but glow-y and eyes so big and dark and so full, so full, of things that no twenty something should ever know.
When had her daughter learned to speak German? She spoke to the blue man that poffed in and out, in perfect fluent German.
She can't seem to take her eyes of her only child. So different than when she left home.
No longer does she have the shyness that she used to have when asking for something; she has a backbone now.
She regrets into giving into peer pressure from the neighborhood.
'Send her away, she's a threat to the neighborhood.'
'I know Marie's a good girl, but what if she decides she doesn't like someone and touches them?'
'You send that freak daughter of yours away or you'll be sorry!'
The threats came in the forms of calls, letters and people coming up on the street or knocking on the front door.
So one night her husband managed to convince her that it would be best if their daughter was not with them anymore and pawning the piano that they had for five hundred dollars. She had hung back in the hallway while her husband stood in the doorway to Marie's room and made some spiel bout how if was best and safer for everyone around if she left.
She sees now that something has happened, a something that was big and bad and terrifying. And she feels guilt swim up because she had not been able to stop it.
She watches in semi fascination as her daughter move about the room, practically prowling in front of his bed and then leaning over now and then to run a bare hand carefully though his hair.
Her husband looks uncomfortable at the intimate display but she can't help but wonder what place this wild man holds in her daughter's life and heart.
And she also wonders, that maybe, somehow, they may have a place in her heart too.