Oh, lord. How long has it been since I've updated... I'm sorry, the tardiness of this is due to a mixture of Writer's Block, lack of ideas and family vacations. I feel really guilty about this...
Okay, one last thing before I shut up. A lot of people commented about flaming. I just want to say that flaming is rude and has absolutely no point. Like calling the author profanity and just saying it sucks. If you don't like the story and want to comment, please tell me why you don't like it. That way, I can improve. Anyway, I'm gonna shut up now. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
I'm flying. Wind whips my hair as I reach out for the bar. This is me. Never grounded. Another flip, reach up to grab the bar. Uneven bars were never my strong point, but I still managed a silver. Flip again, take that leap of faith, the hope that you'll land. Ground rushes out to meet me and I slide down like a cat. My back arches up and I hit the ending pose. Applause echoes from the back of the gym.
"Bravo, Miss Petrovia," John smiles, walking towards me.
"Thank you, Mr. Lennon," I smile back, dusting some of the chalk from my hands and adjusting my bun. My arms ache slightly. It has been a while since I've tumbled. Rolling my complaining shoulders, I step over to my bag and pull on my sweatpants. A loose top quickly follows and I sling the bag over my shoulder.
"So, how was training?" John opens the door for me as I leave. "Ready to finally see my house?"
After I had been released from the hospital, I stayed at a nursing home, due to the fact that I had been in a medically-induced coma for four days. It had taken another four days to relearn how to walk, let alone stay on my own. Another week was needed to fully regain control of my body. After much nagging, I was allowed to begin tumbling a few days ago, so long as I was under supervision. I had been released today and had run straight here, eager to practice without five doctors breathing up my neck.
"I'm looking forward to it," I smiled. John raised an eyebrow at me. "What?"
"You used a contraction," John looks proudly at me. Now it is my turn to raise an eyebrow.
"I use contractions!" I snap back as we enter his car.
"Not around me!"
"Yes, I do..."
"Really, I never noticed."
"Oh, touché John" I roll my eyes and look out the window. City dissolves into country. I fidget. John's house is far away from the city.
"Here we are!" John grins obnoxiously at me. I roll my eyes yet again and stare at the mansion. A crowd of screaming girls stands in front of it. My eyes widen slightly. John, however, simply drives right through them as if this were normal. Hell, maybe it was normal.
"Cyn, I'm home!" John yells as he enters his house. I follow behind, trying to make myself as small as possible. With my size, it isn't hard to do. A woman, dressed impeccably with obviously-dyed blonde hair, walks downstairs. John walks up to her and kisses her on the lips. I fight back the pang of jealousy I feel. He is married.
"Cyn, hon, this is Ekaterina Petrov, the gymnast I've been telling you so mush about. I extend my hand.
"It is a pleasure to meat you, Mrs. Lennon," I grin. She shakes my hand and smiles back but I get the feeling it is forced. "Thank you for letting me stay here."
"No problem," she looks in pain as she says this. I do not think that, if Cynthia had her way, I would be here at all. Let alone living in her house. A little boy runs downstairs.
"Daddy!" he shrieks. John picks him up and he stares curiously at me. "Who's she?"
"I'm Kat," I smile, simplifying my name for the child. "Who are you?"
"Julian. Why do you talk funny?" the boy asks, getting down from his father's arms. I hold back a laugh at Julian's question.
"I'm not from around here," I smile. John snickers and I shoot him a look. He shuts up and tries to look serious. I roll my eyes and deny the urge to facepalm. Grabbing my bag, John takes me to a fairly large room with a bed and a bathroom.
"You'll be staying here," John instructs me, setting my bag down.
"It's lovely, thank you," I turn to unpack my stuff. Half an hour later, I sneak downstairs only to hear Cynthia and John fighting.
"I can't believe you!" Cynthia shrieks. "Having an affair and then bringing her to our house!"
"Ekaterina is a friend who needed a place to stay. So I told her to come here. I don't get what the big deal is; we've had people stay over with us before."
"Yes, but they aren't Soviet-Union rejects!"
"What does her being from the Soviet Union have to do with this?"
"I've been wondering the same thing," I say cooly while walking into the room. Cynthia looks about ready to explode. Which is how I feel. "I do not know what on earth you think is happening between me and John but, I assure you, it is not romantic in any way!"
"Oh, don't give me that crap. I know my husband," Cynthia snarls, taking a few steps towards me. I sorely hope she isn't planning on overpowering me; I could beat her in my sleep with one arm.
"There is nothing going on," I growl. She gives an enraged shriek and dashed away. A door slams and John rubs his forehead.
"Women..." he mutters, ignoring my glare. He looks up to me. "Do you know how to cook?"
"Of course I do..." I look around the kitchen. It appears well-stocked.
"Well, Cyn's royally pissed at me so I think we have to fend for ourselves for the night," John grins at me. I shake my head and go to the refrigerator. There is some fish wrapped in paper, obviously intended for tonight's dinner.
"I can work with this," I say, more to myself than anything else. Lord knows we eat enough seafood in Leningrad.
Half an hour later, food is on the table. John takes a bite and looks at me with shock.
"This is really good!" he comments before grabbing another bite. I smirk.
"Always the tone of surprise," I laugh before giving Julian a plate.
We eat dinner, do dishes and send Julian to bed. I turn to John, who has been looking for Cynthia. By the look on his face, I doubt he found her.
"Maybe she went for a walk," I reason. John hesitates for a moment before nodding in agreement. Just then, the door opens. I smirk at him. "See, walk."
What neither of us were expecting was for Cynthia to enter the house with two men wearing all black.
"There she is!" she yells, pointing at me. Before I can do anything, strong arms envelop me in a headlock. I struggle, knowing John is doing the same. A hood slips over my head. The last thing I know before I pass out is the sickly sweet smell of chemicals.
Yes, I made Cynthia the bad guy. I suck... Anyway, no flaming please. Forgot to mention that...well, review. Love you all, sorry for the delay, BYEEEE!