Disclaimer: I don't own Totally spies.

Tainted hope

Chap 2

"Upon my childlike dreams, there was a monster. Like all heathens upon earth, they wait before taking their prey unto their grasp. The wondrous feeling of freedom is out of reach for the victim. Call it old-fashioned or cliche, but it is true. The so-called tragedy of life happened right before me.

My bare feet hitting the dirt road, while the rain soaked my dress. Unknowingly I chased him, having false hope of catching him. To bring him to justice. Foolishly, using the last of my strength. Tripping on a small rock, falling unto the wet dirt and mud. Salty tears mixed with the rain falling and making puddles. Catching my breath I looked back to see I'd ran father than I thought. My house was not there. Nor was the plantations. I was in unknown territory. Fear gripped my chest and panic rose.

'Why,' I questioned. Why did my parents die? Why did he kill them? Why did Lord God neglect my silent cry for help?

The more questions, the more rage that built inside of me. The pure anger, the wrath I wished to set on all. For all to know my pain.

Selfish? yes. Pointlessly cruel? Maybe.

But not even the most logical person could judge me. Emotions are confusing and illogical within each person. Pounding the dirt with my fists, I threw a tantrum of a toddler. I couldn't control myself. Sobbing harder, I continued until my hands ached and became red. Rage escaped me. All emotions seeped out of my body until nothing was left. Like a soulless creature, I started walking up the trail leading to my fate. Only God knew where.

Yet I knew one thing, I knew I could never go back.

No one will take in orphan. . .society rules it out as a burden. Many children die on the streets being burdens and nuisance to America or the workman. They would be sent to distant orphanages, or being sent to work as a servant or slave. I did not want that. I wanted a better life."

"I can't tell you, Mr. Johnson how scared I was. Running away from my home with only the clothes on my back and no cent to my name."

"Didn't you say, you had grandparents?" asked Johnson, confused about turning events in Samantha's life. A homicide and now a child running away to somewhere. A story like this is more like a dramatic play or an expensive soap opera.

"You listen well. However to tell you the truth, I was not in the right state of mind. I did not think when I ran. Even if I didn't, the authorities would question me, hold me prisoner because I miraculously survived a brutal homicide. In those days, a child was seen but never heard. Which meant my word would fall on deaf ears. Even if I was older, it still would not matter. I am a woman, and women were not treated equally. Their purpose was to be wives, breeders, and domestic caretakers. Nothing else."

She shook her head. "No, they were either treated as wives or possessions. Toys for the males' amusement or desires." Looking up to see Johnson looking uncomfortable, she smiled bitterly at him. Somewhat amused by the look of his face. She could tell he had his share of dominance over a girlfriend or two.

"What I thought was miles from the town, the rain cleared away. But the clouds remained. When pure exhaustion caught up to me. I soon realized the strength and energy that I lost. My bones ached and my skin felt cold. The dirt and dried blood covered my dresses giving a foul odor and color. Dropping to my knees, my eyes felt heavy. My mind and body demanded rest but my heart wanted for me to continue. Almost begging to me to die in this condition. My mind soon won and soon I fell into a dreamless state on the road. Waiting for death to take me."

Johnson felt sick - the parts of death to the thought of death made him ill. He was not used to negative emotion. Even from a tiny woman who is old enough to be his ancestor. But what made him more uncomfortable is that he is beginning to feel something. Pity. They way she told the story was alluring to his senses. Almost as if she meant to make him see her at Samantha, he felt another emotion. Desire. Or Lust. . .

A cough took out of his thoughts to see Samantha frowning at him. He blushed lightly, scared if she could sense his thoughts.

"Not to be rude, Mr. Johnson. But I believe it would be best if we get some sleep. While the sun may not rise for a few hours, it would be unhealthy to force ourselves to stay awake." She said. He agreed, it was getting late, he was not used to staying up past twelve. Turning off the tape recorder, he gazed at his watch.

2:16 a.m

"Alright, then." Both standing up, Samantha motioned for him to follow her to his room. Walking along the hallway, Johnson noticed a portrait on the wall. A woman sitting on a pew, smiling at him. Dull brown hair and eyes, an angled face with a pointy nose - she was a plain woman. From the history books he read in High school - Johnson could tell this woman was poor from the condition of her clothes. Nothing fancy about her. She was not even pretty. But somehow he knew she was important to Samantha. Maybe he would ask her about the plain woman tomorrow. Catching up the girl, He waited patiently as she opened the door his room.

"This is where you will sleep tonight. Please if you have any questions, I will answer them tomorrow. Have a good night." She walked away after that.

Turning on the light, it revealed to be a simple windowless bedroom. With the common necessitates, like a bed, drawer, vanity and a night stand. However there were a few odd objects as well. Boxes stacked up high, almost touching the ceiling. Books scattered around the room, some open and some had torn pages. Even a small open box which held a small collections of dolls. Making way to the bed, He takes off his shoes and shirt before getting to bed. Unclasping his watch, he sets it on the nightstand.

Closing his eyes, he was sleeping in a matter or seconds.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt restless. Johnson believed he slept for mere minutes - while in truth he slept through the whole day. Coming out of the bedroom (sometimes tripping over some books), he trudged his way to the hall. There, he again laid his eyes on the Portrait. The same old plain woman as before. But now he could see more clearly, he sworn she has gotten even more plain. The modesty of the woman was suffocating. Almost prudish. Covered from neck to toe in a loose dress, all buttons perfectly closed. Her Hair was simple pulled into a simple knot and her face was without make-up. Observing more carefully, Johnson notice some aging lines on her face. Laugh lines and a bit of crow's feet.

It was laughable to see him take such interest in a Painting. Or at least in his part. Converting his eyes eyes away, he notice another painting smaller one in a picture frame. But it was not the woman. It was Samantha with a man, both looking serious, standing together. Samantha looked much younger and much more smaller. Like the woman, she was wearing a dull colored dress and a bonnet. Her hair was styled into fancy curls. The gentleman was a bit more interesting. Having a square face, with pointed features. He was average like the woman. But his eyes were interesting - light green. His pupils were clouded as if he were blind. Or something close to it.

"Mr. Johnson?"

He jumped back at the soft voice. Slowly turning his head, he saw Samantha standing there holding with a tray of delicious food. She looked confused and partly worried. Worried because he didn't move for a minute before she spoke out. She could not blame the poor man for being curious, but that did not stop the sense of anger rushing through her.

"Oh Good morning Samantha! I didn't see you there. I'm sorry." Rambled Johnson in his usual nervous tone. He was a bit embarrassed and the light pink tone painted on his cheeks proved that. " You mean good afternoon Mr Johnson. It is two in the afternoon. And it is alright Mr. Johnson, I did not mean to scare you. I only wanted to bring in some food in case you were hungry." Teased Samantha.

"Oh ugh yes well . . . I was extremely tired and I'm sorry!" He stuttered before looking down in shame.

"I see you were interested in those particular paintings over there." Samantha remarked as she noted Johnson's unusual behavior. Frozen for a moment, He tried (unsuccessfully) to regain his composure.

"Well yes. . .its a lovely painting." He lied through his teeth and she knew it. She was not surprised that he was not in favor of the simple beauty of the painting. But then again most young people these days always seemed to lose interest in the real arts. Or perhaps it is the woman in the painting that turned eyes away from it. When Johnson was looking at the painting, she recognized the expression of disinterest and possibly disgust at it. In a way she was offended at such thing and wished to hit him just for that. But she remembered that he didn't know the sentimental value. Or the beautiful memories that were given to her because of that portrait.

"ugh Samantha. . .how is this woman? Is she your mother?" Johnson asked, obviously hating the rising tension between them. But he doubted his own question. He could tell she was not her mother. A plain woman like that giving birth to an exquisite beauty like Samantha. The features were not even comparable. But he didn't expect her answer agreeing with his question.

"In a way yes. She was like a mother to me after my parents were murdered. I considered her as one and she considered me as her own flesh and blood." She answered.

"Come" Picking up his tray, she motioned for him to follow her to the living room where the room was much brighter because of the sun. Setting the tray on the glass table gently. Johnson took his seat opposite of Samantha. Picking up the plate of food, He glanced at the odd dish. Meats covered in some spices and sets of carrots and onions. Mashed potatoes as the side dish. Taking bite, he was overwhelmed with the flavor. It had an odd taste but it was quite delectable from the spices. Taking a sip of his tea, he swallowed before setting his half eaten plate down.

"So you say she was a surrogate mother. Or something close to it." He said. Taking another sip of tea, he leaned back because to get comfortable.

"Yes"

"Then please begin where you left off then. Something tells me I will hear more of her" He said calmly. Turning on the tape recorder, he waited for her to start.

"I told you I fell into unconsciousness. Is that correct? Well where I woke up was a total surprise to me. Instead of outside, lying in a dirt and mud. I was lying on a small bed wrapped in a warm blanket. Opening my eyes, I looked around and realized I was in a small room. The room was pleasant I might add. With wooden floors and walls. A small cabinet at the side. A candle lit giving it a rather haunting light. The sounds were quiet and I could see the waning moon from the high was odd. I questioned myself and the kind person who gave me shelter.

I may have been showered with gifts, but overall I was not selfish. Much. The possibility of someone taking me in was a bit ludicrous or perhaps unheard off. I wanted to walk straight out of the room and out of this house. I wanted to leave and never return. I believed I was causing more trouble than staying out of it. How foolish was I back then?

Lying back down on the small bed. my head hitting the feathered pillow, and small body wrapped in a blanket. I felt forced to stay. Even back then the night still held dangers to small children. But instead of murderers or robbers, a child's mind is filled of monsters, demons and the devil himself was out there in the night. But then again I had encounter death . . . and it would be no different than the last."

"But from what I told you was at least the prologue of my beginning story. Lets say the next chapter would be called 'Soleil'. "

Not much of a chapter. But it is better than nothing. This is most likely a filler than a chapter really. But it doesn't matter now. I hope some enjoy it.

Mistakes are there . . .I know.

Bloodyren