You all will LOVE, and I mean LOVE this chapter. Better not keep you waiting.
"How can you tell me how I feels to have your baby taken away? I was planning a whole life with Tizarah, I was going to raise her. They took her away from me. And no amount of apologizing could redo what they did. Tizarah was still mine. All mine."
-Zepha Vorabend, 1990
Chapter 10
May 3rd, 2004
I see her face under the water, looking up at me, clawing at the ice. It is the first time I see her face, her real face, the one she'd been given. Her big purple eyes stare at me as she reaches out to me with one tender hand. Her face is pale, her lips blue, and she sinks to the bottom.
This is one of the many dreams I've had about Tizarah. Every night since she was stolen I've had a different nightmare. Being eaten by wolfs, drowning, being shot. I closed my eyes, trying to get rid of the vision that imprinted itself in my mind.
"Zepha, we'll be there soon." Richard says from his place in the front seat of the car as I am curled up in a ball in the back, shivering. A wrap the blanket around myself, as if it is some protective covering enabling me to be hurt by what is about to come.
My black hair goes into my face, as I imagine the dark circles around my eyes that have been there ever since she was taken. About the grief that has eaten through my bones and tan skin, leaving a mark where no one could possibly help me. I press my fingers against the moon-shaped birthmark on the back of my shoulder blade, it is the only comfort I have, knowing she shares the same mark.
After all these years I cannot believe they have found her. I have dreamed of this moment for so long, so many times I've wished it that it has become my first thought each morning. Now I see that maybe time has taken us too far, there are too many possibilities.
What if she hates me? What if she is nothing like me? What if she has not been raised in the ways of the church? What if she's been emotionally scared? What if I'm not what she wants? These thoughts make my stomach churn and I bury my face in the blanket, trying to hide my quiet sobs.
"What do you think she looks like?" Richard asked me, and I found my eyes watering.
"Nothing like us, she will have blonde hair and purple eyes." I say, and Richard looks at me, surprised I have spoken this way. He knows of my nightmares, the ones that leave me screaming and thrashing like a dying fish. The sign of yin and yang on my wrist matches his as the beads of Skirdagh dangle and makes a tune only we know.
"Here we are." He says after awhile, and I sit up, looking at the purple sign that reads 'Welcome to Amity Park.' The houses are made of brick here, and there is an urban sense to it, not to mention the smell of many auras.
"Where is she?" I ask. From what they have told me, her new name is Samantha Marie Manson. She will always be Tizarah to me though. When he looks at the address, he stops there, at a beautiful house. "Is this it?" He nods, as I get out of the car.
I look around, but there is no one home. I sigh, and wait with Richard. After awhile, I hear a voice, around the street corner. When I look, I see a young woman, wearing a white summer dress with purple flower prints, matching her lovely eyes. Hair the color of the sun flows down, scraping her shoulders. She is wearing purple sandals, just casual, not meant to be dressy. I am able to catch a glimpse of her shoulder, and I see the moon shaped birthmark. My heart pounds as I realize who she is. It is Tizarah.
Beside her, is a man about her age. He is muscular, wearing just a simple shirt and jeans. His hair is the same color as hers. I can tell by the way he looks at Tizarah that he is not a relative. I am able to hear them.
"That sounds intense Sammy. Have you talked to your father about it?" He asks, as Tizarah blinks.
"Why should I? He's a thief Dash, a thief. You heard my mother, there's no lawyer in this world close to defending him. No one is willing to help."
The boy sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't know, but sometimes there's more to the story that what you think. Remember that okay?"
But before she can answer, his mouth moves over hers. Her eyes widen, and then, I watch as they begin to water. She begins to cry, and the tears scrape over both of their cheeks, running over their connected lips. She moves her hands to his, and clutches onto him. I can see the marks in his shirt as she grips violently, and I know that she is trying to hold onto the moment, because she feels normal. She does not love him, I can see it in her eyes, but she wants to. The need is strong, the need is desperate. She wants to love him so bad, she feels she must.
After awhile, she bids him goodbye. When she turns the corner, she sees me there. Our eyes meet, and she notices our car is in her driveway.
"Namasstay." I greet her in my language, and she looks at me. I touch her shoulder, and my smile is bright. "Tizarah, you have grown so much."
At the sound of that name, her eyes widen. "Who...who are you? How do you know my birth name?"
I frown. "I am Zepha, you are my baby. You were stolen from me." I say, and she takes me in, from my prayer beads to my red cloak and the sign of yin and yang on my wrist. "Aplyala beh tune ananda zala." I reply.
She raises an eyebrow. "What does that mean?" She asked, temporarily distracted by my Indian language. I smile a smile that feels warm on my face. Richard comes beside me, and he takes her hand in his, the comparison almost there. I notice the way she looks at him and blinks, the motions of me. She is mine.
"Tizarah, you are so beautiful." He says, reaching out and stroking her face with his calloused hand, and she stiffens noticeably, before letting herself be touched. She looks at him, and her eyes meet his, eyes that would have been ours.
She slowly incases her small hand into his. She has the tiniest hands, smooth like silk, true Indian hands. I imagined them often, tiny baby fingers inclosing into a fist around my finger. She slowly pulls his hand away from her face, but she does not appear hateful or creeped out. She looks distinct from us.
"Tizarah," I say softly, a word that I have said so many times it has become one with me. "Please, let me be the mother I never had the chance to be. I love you, no matter where you came from, you're still mine."
She looks at me and something wells up in her eyes, tears, as they come into the bottom of her eyes, turning the color a soft lilac. She swallows, and closes her eyes to get rid of the tears, but they only end up spilling over. She bites her lip, as if trying to stop words from coming.
Finally, she looks at me. "Why do I always have to belong to someone?" She asks, so soft it is a miracle I hear it.
I smile a sad smile, wrapping my hand in hers. For an Indian, this motion means a love that will never be broken. I believe this to be so.
"Because no one can belong to nothing." I say, and she relaxes under my touch, a sign that tells me that maybe I could do this, maybe we could do this. Together, as if was meant to be.
She blinks. "You are going against my father." She says, while I nod. She shakes her head, as if trying to convince herself of the thing she needs, not the thing she wants. Her eyes turn into the smallest of a glare. "This is wrong, my dad-"
"Is not your real father, he lied to you Tizarah." Richard says from beside me. She shakes her head again. I know he is hurt, because I can hear it in the thickness of his voice. "He took a baby away from his parents. How can you love that man?"
She looks as if she's been slapped, then she turns to him. "He did it to save my sister, he did it because he had to. He couldn't sit there and watch her die!"
I bow my head. "Tizarah, you are our baby." I tell her, but she does not budge. As stubborn as Richard, I think. "The spirits made you mine for a reason, the spirits made me dream to have you made, because it was supposed to be so."
She goes to the door. Before she turns the knob, she faces us. "I don't know who I can trust anymore. I find out that my father isn't my real father, that he's a crook, that he's going on trial and most likely going to jail…that every thing that makes me myself is totally dying on me!"
She breaths, and for a minute all I hear is the breaking of my heart. "When I was little, I used to wish all the time for the perfect family. I always wanted someone ideal." She looked at us. "You guys aren't."
"Maybe." I say, an assurance. "But we're the only thing you have left."
She stops, and comes to me. Maybe, I think, for this time, hearing the truth is the best thing after all. She shudders as I move my hands over her back as she cries into me. I try and draw the sign of protection with my hands, so that she may be unhurt by the things that are to come, and the things that she will soon lose.
During the hearing of the trial, Tizarah does not look at me, she stays close to Sadie Manson, her other mother. Sadie wraps an arm around her, keeping her close, and Tizarah welcomes it, something that makes me wince.
The judge looks at everyone in the courtroom, clearing his throat. "We are in the case Vorabend vs. Manson, where Adrian Manson is accused of stealing an embryo for the Vorabend family. If found guilty, the defendant will go to federal prison for a sentence of twenty to thirty years, Mr. Vorabend, I assume you have found a lawyer."
Richard nods, and our lawyer, Abigail Wellinsworth, a woman with white skin and hair the color of a sunset. Her eyes are as big as an eagle's, her backbone so straight I must correct myself not to feel slouchy.
The judge nods, and turns to Sadie. "Has the defendant found a lawyer to represent him?"
I look to see Tizarah's eyes fill with tears, and just before Sadie can find herself to say the answer, a quick opening of a door fills our ears as we turn around. I tremble as I gaze upon him, the tall white man who has entered the room. His coat is white, his pants are white, his face is the same color, the only thing black are his shoes and hat. He straightens slightly, walking down the isle, and I can feel the tremors beneath my feet as he walks past me and looks at the judge, who seems almost miniscule next to him.
"Your honor, I am willing to represent the defendant. Forgive my lateness, I promise it will never happen again." He says, in a voice that makes shivers run up my spine. I look at Tizarah's face, but I find it is paler than mine, and she is shaking. I stare in worry, thinking she will faint on the spot.
Abigail shoots up beside me. "Objection! Your Honor, they were registered when they first came in for undefended and this man should not be able to walk in and say he is their lawyer!"
The man only glares. "I am not saying anything; I merely say that I am willing to defend them. How can you expect to beat me when you make stupid assumptions?" He straightens, looking at my lawyer with such a force I am afraid she'll snap in half. "It is not up to you, ma'm, as I'm sure you should know, the decision belongs to the judge. You have your part Mrs. Wellinsworth, I suggest you do it."
Abigail only glares. "Objection!"
But the judge waves her off. "Sustained Mrs. Wellinsworth, please take a seat." He says, and instead turns to the mysterious man. "Name?"
He doesn't skip a beat. "Mr. Walker sir." He says.
"Relation?"
"None Your Honor, although Samantha and I have met before."
"Pardon my question, but have you had personal relationships with your clients/ and or your clients relations?"
"No sir." He says, and he flashes a smile in Tizarah's direction that makes my skin crawl. His eyes give her a message that only she knows. "I don't see many people now a days."
The judge leaned back. "Let me ask you Mr. Walker, do you intend to win?" He asks. I know it is the lawyer's job to make sure you are on the judge's good side, it is a common sense-based rule. But Mr. Walker gives a shrug, almost uncaringly.
"Would I be here if I didn't?" He asked, and for the first time since the hearing, I see a smile over the judge's face.
"Mr. Walker, you are defending Adrian Manson in this case. Trail starting point begins in two adjourned." He says, as I sit up, going to leave. But something aches in me, and I go to Tizarah and Sadie. When Sadie glares at me, I give her a look.
"Good luck." I say, extending a hand. She looks at me in surprise, before reaching a timid hand and shaking my hand, her eyes on me the whole time. I notice she looks at Tizarah, and tears gather at the corner of her eyes, and she gasps to draw breath, and for a minute we have something similar.
"I know," I say, as she looks at me. We both see this girl we want to keep, we both consider her ours. "I love her too."
REVIEW PLEASE! How did you like this chapter? With Walker in the pitcure, can he be trusted? Will he help lead Adrian to freedom, or imprisonment? What about Zepha and Richard? What will they have to say in the trial? What about Zepha and Richard altogether? What about Tucker and Danny and Kwan and Dash and Paulina and Valerie and Star?
I'll need...um...what do you guys think? Let's say...115 reviews to continue. Have a happy freakin' Easter
-Gangstalicious624
P.S. Oh yeah, I'm trying to improve my writing skills, so you guys be free to tell me WHO your favorite DannyxSam writer is, I'm trying to get better. But, don't tell me their names if they also write Gay stories. My policy.Thankies.