I know, I know... long time no post – my bad. But here it is, and I hope to have another chapter up shortly, but I can't make any promises. Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers though, you guys are awesome and you give me so much motivation to continue. Keep it up!!
Enjoy...
I feel paralyzed. I'm afraid to move, to speak, to even breathe or turn my gaze away from her own. Her gaze... it's not a gaze, but rather a cold, hard, contemptuous glare. I can even feel myself shrinking under her disproving eyes, feeling like a child whose been caught red-handed for a misdeed. But I've done nothing wrong. Yet her eyes continue to bore into my own with disgust. I have never been able to look into anybody's eyes before, not like this. Even now, as I am unable to look anywhere else, I feel intimidated and nauseously uncomfortable. Why did I choose her? The question repeats itself over and over again in my mind. In my defense, the only photograph that I had of the three women was approximately twenty years out of date. I guess people change; for the better and for the worse. But what had made this seemingly timid and understanding person that I had seen in the picture transform into this hard and angry woman who's standing in front of me? A question, unfortunately, that I can't answer.
As my thoughts drift elsewhere, I allow my eyes to refocus on the woman who's facing me, and much to my relief, I find that her vicious eyes have left my own in order to explore the rest of my figure. This task, however, proves to be just as uncomfortable and degrading as the fixed stare that we had shared between ourselves just moments before. I feel like a caged animal – no worse, an inmate. I can almost hear the detective asking, "Ms. Halliwell, do you see the suspect, or shall we bring out another line?" Piper, of course, doesn't respond, and instead I watch as her eyes continue to blaze a path across my smaller body. I wonder what she's thinking about. What kind of notes is she taking? Is she comparing me to my mother as I did to her?
Drifting back into reality, I refocus my eyes to find that hers have again, reconnected with my own. Unlike before, however, they are not eyes filled with contempt and hatred, but rather recognition and perhaps even a hint of sorrow. Slightly glazed over in a pink tinge, her eyes appear to be softer in expression, not at all intimidating as before. I sneak a quick glance at the rest of her face to find a disturbingly contrasting difference. Her clenched jaw and pursed lips, combined with her emotional eyes, give away the fight that is obviously occurring within her mind. Part of her wants to hate me, to forget that we ever met; but battling painfully to the surface is a feeling of despair – proof of her recognition of me as my mother's daughter. I did not inherit any of my mother's Wiccan gifts, but she did teach me how to read a person's body language without needing her power of empathy. Piper's face is like an open book, and deciphering her emotions are just as easy as piecing together words in order to form a sentence. I just hope that her feeling of sorrow and despair can hold out long enough to win her internal battle.
"You look just like her," a steely and monotonous voice escapes from her lips, catching me completely off guard.
I swallow hard and my heart skips a beat as I stare back at her, my own mind now wrestling with its own internal battle. I'm afraid to respond, afraid of allowing her to enter my life. I regret contacting her – Mom's fine; I'm probably overreacting about the whole situation. What would she do if she knew that I had contacted Piper? I don't have an answer. This is the only secret that she's ever kept hidden from me – her family, her past. She must have had a good reason for concealing their existence. But she's not here. Precisely. Mom's not here and this mysterious woman from her past is my only chance at finding her. Sorry mom...
"Thank you," I fumble nervously for a response, quickly feeling the heat rise into my cheeks as the accented words slur lazily off of my tongue.
A quick flinch in her neck informs me that my words did not go unnoticed, but strangely she chooses not to question the accent. Instead, I notice a cloud of anger invade her softened eyes as she turns away from me and begins to pace around the room. I realize that I've officially lost her pity vote, but that doesn't mean that I've lost the battle... yet.
I foolishly remain glued to the same spot as I watch her silently explore the untidy room, her leather clad arms crossed protectively over her chest. In the two weeks that I've lived in this house, my mother and I haven't used this room at all, choosing instead to live either within the kitchen or in our bedrooms. Due to the major renovations that the old house is undergoing, we haven't even had access to the bathroom. It isn't that this particular room is dirty, but just scattered with the evidence of the renovators. The remaining furniture is currently protected by white bed sheets and blankets cover the new hardwood floors from the splattering of paint. I watch as Piper makes her way over to the small pile of boxes that have collected in the far corner of the room, remnants of the move. She reaches into one of the top cartons, and unravels tissue paper from a picture frame, revealing a photograph of my mother looking lovingly at me as an infant – one of her favourites.
"Where the hell is she?" Piper snaps suddenly while tossing the picture carelessly back into the box.
I jump in surprise at the ruthless sound of her voice, fear slowly enveloping my body as she creeps closer in my direction.
"Who?" I sputter stupidly. God P, you're such an idiot.
"Don't give me that, you know exactly who I'm talking about. Now where is she?" she says through gritted teeth, her voice sounding increasingly more venomous.
I slowly take in a deep breath in an attempt to soothe my damaged nerves, before responding shakily, "she's not here."
"What?" she questions in disbelief. "No. No no no. Of course she's here – she has to be here! This is just – you're just one of her ploys to get me to see her. And I almost didn't come. It's been too long... way, way, way too long."
She finally pauses, and I can only stare skeptically at her. I'm almost frightened. Her tone of voice has completely changed and she's now almost on the verge of tears. Oh shit, I think I'm witnessing a complete and utter mental breakdown of a woman... I am way too young for this, what am I going to do?
As if on cue, Piper looks up at the ceiling, shaking her fist before continuing her rant, "It's been fifteen years, Phoebe, fifteen fucking years. I know you're here! Just get your ass down here so I can see you, damn it!"
She's crazy. I've let a crazy person into my house.
"Piper..." I start nervously hoping to get through to her. Before I can continue, however, she looks over at me and says, "She's not here, is she?"
I shake my head silently in response.
"Then why did you call me?" she asks softly.
"I can't find her," I confirm shakily, tears threatening to spill from my own eyes at any minute. "It's like she just --"
"Disappeared?" Piper finishes as I nod my head in agreement. "Ha. She's good at doing that. Let me guess, she probably took off in the middle of the night, and when morning came, there was no Phoebe to be had – I should know, she's done it to me twice. Let me give you some advice, kid. Learn to live without her, 'cause god only knows how long she'll be gone this time."
"But she's my mother," I say as I stare at the woman before me in horror. "And she wouldn't take off on me like that... she promised."
"Yeah, well promises were meant to be broken," Piper responds dishearteningly, shifting her gaze to the ground. "At one time I thought she'd never leave me. She was my best friend, my sister. Obviously she didn't have a problem on turning her back on me and the rest of her family in order to pursue her own selfish life."
"My mother is not selfish!" I yell, tears streaming freely down my face now. "And she didn't leave me like she left you. I... I think that she was taken."
"Prove it" Piper says coldly.
"Look at these," I say as I give her the photographs that I have been holding. "They're of you and, what I'm assuming to be, the rest of your family. Even though she supposedly left you, she still hasn't stopped caring – she never leaves the house without these pictures. Now, I'm begging you, can you please help me find her?"
I silently wipe my dampened cheeks with the back of my hand as I wait for a response. I never cry, and to do so in front of a stranger is overly embarrassing. I just hope that she finally takes pity on me and decides to help. She is her sister after all, no matter how estranged they are.
"Ok," she says quietly. "But you're coming home with me."
Sorry for the long wait guys and gals, but hopefully it was worth it! Tell me what you think!