YOU HAVE TO READ THIS FIRST BEFORE READING THE NEXT CHAPTER! I had to update today! I had to! You wanna know why? Because today is special! How is it special you ask? BECAUSE TODAY IS ZOE'S BIRTHDAY! (throws huge b-day party for Zoe/Anamaria)
Go,
go, go, go, go, go
Go, shorty
It's ye birthday
We gon' party
like it's ye birthday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your
birthday
An' you know we don't give a (bleep)
'cause it's not
ye birthday!
Lyrics by 50-Cent
Thanks to Reviewers!
rockyrelay
Captain-Ammie
Little Miss
Readerfreak10
anglewingz21
Alori Kesi Aldercy
Note: If child abuse makes you cringe and causes discomfort, go back NOW!
"Rosa!" Ana called as she ran down stairs.
A young girl, about eight year old, peered up the staircase as her sister came down, "What?"
"We need to get out of here." Ana replied, hurriedly moving past the confused eight year old. She ran about the living room, searching for any type of large bag or something.
"Why, and what about Mama?"
Ana abruptly seized her searching and stood in front of an open cabinet, not bothering to look at her sister. Silence permitted between the two before Rosa suddenly began to shuffle towards her baby sister, a concerned expression on her dark face, "Ana?"
The youngest said nothing.
Rosa's eyes were horror stricken, "Is she...?" She couldn't finish her whispered question. The thought of her beloved mother having passed on dropped a heavy weight on her heart. Ana said nothing and continued her search after wiping a tear that she did know had fallen.
Rosa let the pain of the loss of her mother wash over her, and then spoke to her sister with a stronger tone. "Can you at least tell me where we're going, how we're suppose to get money?"
"Don't worry about that, Rosa, I have it all handled and under control." Ana's eyes lit up when she came across, not only one, but two brown duffle bags in the closet.
"Oh you do, do you?" Came Rosa's sarcastic response.
"Yes," Ana tossed both of the bags over her shoulder and let them knock against her back; she stared hardly at her sister, "I do." She swiftly walked past Rosa Maria, her long red skirt brushed against the wooden floors; she headed upstairs to their bedroom with Rosa hot on her heels.
"How do you have everything figured out? You're not but six years old!"
"Rosa Maria!" Ana shouted, abruptly haulting her step so she could snap her head around and stare her sister straight in the eye, "For once, would you look beyond that? I know exactly what I'm doing, so why can't you just trust me?" Her shrilling voice echoed in the quietness of the house.
It was a shock to Rosa; her sister had never actually confronted her like that before. Sure, she yelled more than she spoke, but her words usually held no meaning; she just...liked to scream at people. But now, now little Ana had reached that stage in her life...rebelion.
As soon as Rosa had recovered from her shock, she spoke with a quiet voice, "I...I'm sorry. I keep forgetting that you're a lot more than just some six year old girl; you're a Musiah."
Ana nodded and whispered a appreciative, "Thanks." before releading her sister to their small bedroom upstairs to pack.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Rosa! Ana! S'hara! Papa's home!" A man yelled, bursting through the front door. The large wooden door banged hard against the wall, vibrating throughout the living room, and shaking the pictures that hung on the walls. He left the front door wide open and swaggered into the house with two rum bottles in one hand and one ale bottle in the other.
"Where 're me lo'ely li'l ladies a'?" He slurred and toppled. The man was downright drunk, as usual, as he searched the house. "Rosa, where ye a', swee' pea?" -hiccup- "Ana, come 'ere m' li'l dumplin'!" The man yelled, looking in every room, from the living room all the way up to their bedroom. "S'hara, ye still ill m' luv?"
No response.
The dark haired man swayed his way up the stairs and into his wife's sickroom, "S'hara." He called quietly into the room, poking his head a little further into the room, "S'hara, wakey wakey." When she made no move to answer him, he frowned and walked all the way inside, standing by her at the bedside, "I said wake up, wench!" He slapped her with amazing force, knocking her head to the right. A small gasp sounded at the door, but he did not seem to notice as he continued to slap his wife, "Wake up, ye" -hiccup- "goo' fer nothin' woman!"
SMACK
"Ge' up!" He yanked her by the shoulders so that she was sitting up, and he shook her violently, "S'hara ge' up, wretch!"
SMACK; his hand connected with her pale cheek.
"Stop it! Stop it now!" A young voice cried. The man turned to the doorway, just as his daughter came rushing in.
"Ah, there's m' swee' li'l Ana. How 're ye doin'?" She ignored the drunkard and ran into the room, shoving him out of her way, which caused him to lose his balance and fall to the floor with a loud THUD. "Do not touch her!" Ana yelled, gently caressing her mother's abused cheek. "Do not...touch her." She spoke quietly, but her words spoke volumes.
"Well, tell the bloody 'arpy t' wake u' when I," -hiccup- "blaste' tell 'er t'!" The man demanded, still laying on the floor.
"She can't." The younger informed regretfully.
"O' course sh can! The stupi' woman's jus' tryin' t' pull m' strings, is all." He wobbily stood up to his full height and towered over his daughter, "Now move." The cold iciness in his tone was enough to scare anyone, but Anamaria doesn't break that easy.
"No!" Ana cried, protectively cradling her mother's head in her small arms, "You're not coming near her!"
"She's my bloody wife!"
"And she's my bloody mother!" With this final yell, Ana kicked her father in his most sensitive area, causing him to let out a cry of pain and crumple to the floor in agony. "Rosa, help me get Mama out of here before he gets back up!" She called to her older sister, who stood in the door way with her mouth agape. Ana could see her father trying to get back up and she looked at her sister with panic in her eyes, "Rosa!" She yelled a bit louder.
The older of the two simply just shook her head with her eyes bugged, and in the blink of an eye, Rosa Maria ran for her life. She knew what was to come, she just didn't have the heart, or the courage, to help her sister.
"Rosa Maria!" The terrified child screeched until it hurt her throat, but Rosa didn't come back. Ana looked back down at her mother with an 'I'll be back for you' look in her eye before trying to run for the door, but she was too slow. Her father had finally recovered from his downfall and grabbed Ana tightly around the wrist; the man towered above her, his eyes glowing way past furious as he raised his fist high above his head.
"I'm gonna show ye the meanin' o' pain!"
It was pouring outside as young Rosa ran down the street with her long black cloak covering herself. Lightning was coloring the sky, thunder drummed in her ears, and rain blinded her line of vision as she desperately searched for shelter. She sprinted down the driveway, barefoot, and ran down the main road. She hadn't gotten too far away from home, when all of a sudden she heard a loud piercing scream coming from her house.
Ana's piercing scream.
Rosa heard the hurt cry, she just couldn't go back and save her though. That man was practically killing her baby sister, yet she just kept on going.
Dodging into the shadows of the night, Rosa searched for some place where she could take cover for the night. She came across an ond abandoned warehouse called, "Osmoes" and hid inside. The eight year old searched for anything that could provide a fire; she found nothing. the storm was picking up, so she couldn't just leave and look for anything. So, Rosa just lay herself down by a dirty window so she could get some rest and wait for the nstorm to die down; then, she would be off to start a new life as a lone wolf.
Ana was huddled in the corner, her body terribly beaten and bloodied as she whimpered. The man wiped the blood off his knuckles onto the child's loose white shirt. He tossed his small knife to the side and smirked down at her battered form, "Well, tha' was fun." He told her with a twinkle in his eye.
Ana did not answer him. Perhaps it was because she was terrified of him, or maybe because she was in too much pain to speak, but whatever the reason was, it earned her a swift kick in the side; she let out a hurt cry and doubled over.
"Now, now, Princess, where 're yer manners? Did Mama no' teach ye how t' respon' when an adult talks t' ye?" What did he want her to say? 'Yes, Father, being punched and stabbed was absolutely delightful. Can you do it again please?'
"Y...yes, she did."
"Then learn t' respect yer elders an' respon' when they speak t' ye!" When she did not reply, the man held his fist up, ready to strike her again; Ana cowered.
"Yes, Sir!" She hid behind her hands and shook with fright.
He lowered his hand, "Good girl. Now, wake up yer mother fer me while I wash m' han's."
"But, I can't." The sorrow was clear in her voice. It may have been a trick of the light, but Ana could have sworn she saw his features soften just a tad. But, as soon as the shock had flashed before his eyes, it was immediately replaced with anger, and he narrowed his eyes dangerously down at her, "You lie." He accused in a low voice.
"I am not! Mama is dead; died while you were out drinking and flirting out of your mind!" Although it hurt, Anamaria still managed to stand up and stare him in the eye, only to be knocked back down when his hand connected with her cheek in an echoing slap.
SMACK
"How dare ye talk t' me like tha', ye ungrateful li'l tramp!" He yelled at his daughter's bleeding form, "I am yer father an' ye will learn t' remember tha'!" Shaking violently at the immense pain that surged throughout her small body, Ana stood tall once more; she would absolutely not go down without a fight, not only for hers, but for her mother's sake.
"Since when have you earned the title of 'Father'?"
The man was completely appalled by her bluntness. Seeing his off guard stance, Anamaria stared at him triumphantly, "Exactly." She finally spoke. the six year old limped her way to her mother's side and began to kiss her cheek once more before she left; she never got the chance.
The man was fed up with his daughter's attitude. Fed up with her insults, her fast mouth, her whole rocky layer. 'So', He thought, 'as they say. If yer dog's too wild an' misbehaved, ye jus' 'ave t' put it t' sleep.' He walked over to a nearby table and picked up the same knife he had used to stabe Maria before. "Ana?" She turned to face the man who had spoken in such a sorry tone.
"What?"
He sighed deeply, the knife hidden behind his back. "I...I'm sorry." He took a few slow steps toward the kneeling girl, "I know it seems as though I don't care for you, Rosa, or yer mother, but I do; really." He inched a bit closer as his hand gripped tighter onto the blade's handle, "I swear I'm tryin' to do right by ye, bu' i's hard." The man positioned it just right, "I promise ye, darlin', m' drunken days 're over." His deep brown eyes were hard and serious, 'Man I'ma goo' actor.' He thought proudly. "An Ana?"
"Yes?" She answered as he took one final step, a maniac twinkl in his eyes.
"Yer such a worthless li'l carcass." With those final words, he whipped out his left arm and let the blade pierce her side. A grin formed on his face as the colorful sight of her blood poured into a small puddle on the floor, and a beautiful song echoed continuously in his mind: his little girl's piercing scream.
By the next morining, Ana woke up with her body aching. She could feel her rapid heartbeat pumping throughout her body, and she was very lightheaded. Once the black dots in her vision had cleared, she took in her surroundings.
Blood was still painted on the floors, the furniture was still overturned, and it was quiet. The man had completely disappeared from sight, and judging by the unmade bed to her right, he had taken her mother with him. Ana ignored the surging pain in her side and the rest of her body as she wobbled to stand up. The young girl skimmed the room for something to wrap around her wound. She limped throughout her mother's sickroom, looking in every droor and small hiding places, "Ah, this should work." Ana took out a cotton shirt, that use to be Sahara's work shirt, and used it to tie it tightly around her waist; she covered the fabric up with her own large shirt so that it was out of view. Ana didn't even bother to change out of her bloodied skirt before taking her brown bag and fleeing as fast as she could from the house.
India really was a beautfiul place to grow up in when your mother wasn't dead, your father wasn't a maniac, and you didn't have a cowardly betraying sister. But, unfortunatley for Anamaria Musiah, she had all of the above.
She breathed in the scent of fresh hot buttered bread that ventured all the way from "Mazha's Bakery". Townswomen were wore their hujabs on their heads and they wore colorful wraparound skirts from their shoulders to the ground. Young girls wore their hair in a single braid down their backs as they played up and down the roads. Ana sighed and put on her hujab that she had in her backpack, "I can't believe I forgot," She mumbled to herself, taking a few steps out into the crowd, "It's the day of the annual festival."
Music was played by a live group, and the Moroccan belly dancers began to dance to the rythmic beat; Ana simply tried to blend in. Many of the townspeople were dancing and singing to the cultural music, making it even more difficult for Anamaria to make an escape. "Excuse me," She said politely as she squeezed and eased her way through the crowd, "Pardon me." She rolled her eyes as a woman in her mid twenties bumped into her, but continued to dance, "Excuse you!" Ana yelled.
"What, Kid?"
"You bumped into me without apologizing!"
"Well, you shouldn't have been in my way!" With that said and done, she began dancing once more and Ana let out a frustrated growl, but she would not press the matter and just continued mazing. Finally, when she made it out of the bustling crowd, Ana made her way to a market stand, but not before noticing a familiar heap in the shadows of 'Osmoes', "Well, well," She said, walking into the warehouse and shooting bullets from her eyes at the girl who she had once called her favorite sister, "What do we have here?"
The girl's eyes widened, "A...Ana?" Once the sun had shone on the towering figure, she stood up and gasped.
"Yes, it is me; not that you care though." Her voice was icy, which is probably what sent shivers up and down her twin's spine, "Why did you leave me last night, Rosa Maria?" She yelled with her hands balled up in tight fists.
"I don't know. I just...panicked." Ana knew she was lying, Rosa could tell by the slight narrow of her hazel eyes and the way she stood completely frozen. "I just did, okay? I knew what he was going to do to you, I just couldn't help you." She glared at Ana, "I didn't want to help you."
Ana gasped and backed away from her so called 'sister', "W...Why not?"
"Because you were a mistake."
"A mistake?"
"Yes, you were a horrible mistake that our mother made years ago. If not for you, Papa wouldn't be going out and getting drunk all the time, our family wouldn't be falling apart, and Mama...would have never died." The sun glinted off of something on Ana's arm, causing Rosa's eyes to widen, 'The bracelet.' She thought with surprise and greed.
"What are you talking about, Rosa?"
"In time, dear sister, you will know. But to give you a straight forward answer, I didn't help you because I wanted you to die; witches don't love."
"You're a witch?"
"In training." Ana rolled her eyes. Rosa Maria had been talking about going into witchcraft ever since she was five, and it was really starting to get on Anamaria's nerves. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going." With one final longing look at Ana's bracelet, Rosa left the warehouse and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Ana to sulk alone.
Author Gibberish That Nobody Reads: Honestly tell me, does Ana seem a little out of character to you? I've read this over and over before posting, and it always struck me as Ana being a little OOC, but I posted anyway so you can tell me yourselves. So...yeah. Before ya'll go, ye gotta help me sing this birthday song to Zoe Saldana a.k.a Anamaria "should be" Sparrow, okay? (clears throat)
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to Zoe (or Ana), happy birthday to you! How old are you, how old are you, how old are you, how old are you?
Zoe: I'm 28 years old, savvy?
Us: (cheers) HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZOE SALDANA! WE LOVE YOU! (kisses)
