Chapter Three

Chapter Three:

 

The warmth from before hasn’t left me, even with the fire dead and the blanket wrapped around Rosha. I’m finishing up the last fight scene of the movie while Rosha snores quietly with her head in my lap.

She’s serene when she’s asleep, relaxed. Her eyes dart under her eyelids as she dreams, face innocent and lips slightly open as she purrs and breathes. She has a slim nose that slightly pokes up in a point and some freckles across her cheeks that spread over the bridge of her nose.

Catching myself staring, I jerk my head away and stare out the window, a blush settling over my cheeks. I grumble to myself quietly, disappointed in myself for letting such a gesture escape my walls.

Leaning back and turning off the TV, I start to drift. Rosha had given me such a heavy dose of cold medicine my eyes struggled to even keep themselves up during the movie. I rub at them, rubbing deep and sighing. They feel dry and sore, like a fire is burning behind them.

My hand twitches slightly, catching my attention. I have it tangled in Rosha’s hair, the blonde still soundly asleep. She rubs her nose, mumbles some gibberish, and then rolls over.  

Guess I should get her to bed. I sigh and pick her up in my arms, dragging her to her tiny bedroom. Plopping her into her bed, she cuddles her pillow and sighs. My eyes fall upon her as I make it to the light switch.

“Rikkira….” She murmurs before resting again.

I almost want to smile, but growl and shake my head at the ridiculousness of that idea. Staying only a few days here, the blonde is already knocking down my walls I have spent so many years building. I have lived in isolation for so long; why is it so easy for her to make me feel warm and welcome again? All she ever has to do is smile and listen, and I feel the admiration she radiates.

Tossing back and forth on the couch, thinking every moment over and over in my head, I'm grumbling and punching my pillow in frustration. I'm grinding my teeth together and listening to the unsteady pounding of rain on the roof, and the squeaking of Rosha's bed as she tosses and turns as well.

My medicine argues with my head, and I find myself struggling to stay awake. My cold has my breathing ragged and my head pounding with the rain. I sniffle; turn over on the couch, wrapping the throw blanket tighter around me. Switten purrs on the top of the couch, meowing at me one last time before my body gives in to the siren call of sleep.

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I wake later on in the day, unaware of how long I had slept. The rain was gone, wind blowing gently against the windows. The living room remains dark, even throughout the afternoon. Rosha keeps to herself, quiet, cooking a pot of home made chicken soup. The aroma brings my tummy to growl and my mouth to water.

Heaven knows I cannot stand the woman, but she keeps to her business and feeds me. It cannot be all bad keeping her here for awhile longer.

A newspaper is thrown into my face, the black words highlighted and bolded. Some are circled; new jobs now hiring, car deals, new openings. Sitting up, I hold the paper in my hands and glance towards Rosha, who is sitting against the wall, stroking Switten with a soft smile.

"Are these your goals of the week?" I toss the paper back at her.

Without looking up, she snatches it in the air and sets it aside neatly beside her. Her gaze meets mine, grey, soft. She nods once, picking up the paper.

"Do you know the city well enough to know where to walk?" I ask, removing the blanket from my body. I involuntarily shiver at the afternoon air.

"I used to live on the streets. They are no stranger to me."

I try to keep the surprise off my face the best I can as I rise to my feet to fetch myself a bowl of soup from the large pot on the stove. Rosha is just a heartbeat behind me, holding Switten to her chest as she tags along.

Gathering a reasonable amount of soup into my bowl, I steal a buttered roll off a warm plate on the counter. I take my place on a barstool at the counter and dig in. My mouth waters at the smell, and I find myself almost drooling as I take a sip.

The taste rolls around on my tongue and coats it. Instinctively I purr, licking my lips. Damn, she's good. I throw a glare at her, almost teasingly and see her flinch underneath my gaze before settling in beside me.

We hardly speak, both relishing in the hot, chicken soup in the cold afternoon. I notice Rosha shiver when she's finished with her bowl, leaving to get seconds. I stop her with my spoon, grinning at her with a challenge in my eyes. She meets my gaze with the same look.

It is when I stand to get my own second bowl, when she loses the challenging look and backs down; allowing me to know who the alpha is in my household. I steal another good amount, before plopping back down into my original spot at the counter.

Rosha serves herself next, returning to her chair as well. We are quiet through out the meal, and most of the day.

Night eventually rolls around. The cold air brings another shower, but an unexpected visit of a stray Voice, wandering the streets aimlessly. I'm not sure if it is lost or confused by the muddled smell of a lie in the rain. I have changed to my battle gear for tonight, unaware that the rain would be coming. Though gladly, I can have some fun tonight.

My katana, in her rightful place on my back, sings to me. She wants Voice blood. She wants us to dance with the Voice and playfully mock it. I too am craving some fun with the Voice. I could end its suffering.

It sniffs the ground while walking in small circles, picking up slight traces of the lies, while losing them as well and hissing through its sewn mouth. My beautiful pistols call to me, the bullets ringing in my ears to be used, to slay the Voice.

Grinning wildly to myself, I give in to both calls. It is no effort to make it down to the streets from my balcony. The wet pavement splashes once my boots slap against it. My pants get soaked and I shiver slightly as I near the lost Voice.

I allow my katana to have her way first, sliding her out of her sheath. She sings again, already empowering me with a vision of victory. My hands tighten around her as I creep slowly behind the creature.

Once it circles back, the empty eyes fall upon me and it displays a twisted smile, lips bleeding as they fight against the stitches. It crawls its way on all fours over to me, drooling sewer water along the way. In one hand is a piece of a streetlight. The other contains a soaked grocery bag. Both are probably stray items the creature used to track the scent.

"Those aren't much weapons. Where were you going on such a rainy night?"

It hisses a laugh, swinging the broken piece at me. Though it is raining, the Voice is still quick. I narrowly dodge the swing and make my own towards it. It uses the piece as a shield, but my sharp blade cuts through like butter. It slices through its arm, the body part falling to the ground. My blade darkens with its blood and she purrs and sings with the taste of it.

Grinning darkly at the Voice, loving the sound of its cries, I close my eyes and purr at the sound of its pain. A quick slice to its head and it rolls down the street, banging against an old dumpster.

While sheathing my blade, I kick the remains into the manhole before covering it up. There is a slight tug to my pants, and I twist around with a pistol in my hand. The sight before me, surprises me, and I let it show.

It's a small child; cowering in the rain, wearing nothing but a potato sack on its small frame. I never had a soft spot for children like other woman, but the sight of the small child tugs at some of my heart strings. She's a brunette, hair at her shoulders. It stands up in gnarly knots and tangles. Her skin muddy, and bruised. Her tiny feet scraped and bleeding.

Biting my lip, I hesitate on picking up the child in my arms. But push comes to shove; I give into the urge and protectively pick her up, carrying her inside the building, out of the rain, and up the stairs to my apartment door. Knocking with my knee, Rosha answers and stares with the same expression I too wore only minutes before. She moves to the side, allowing us access to my living room.

"Draw a hot bath. Make it a bubble bath. Watch over her for a moment. I'm going to head to Wal-Mart to fetch her some clothes. Under no circumstances does she leave this house while I am gone. Understood?" I glance towards the blonde.

She nods, taking the child's hand. I gently pet her head.

"You must trust the blonde lady, alright?" I coo, mentally scolding myself for showing affection to the child.

The child nods her head, and follows quietly behind Rosha to the guest bathroom. Finding my jacket and an umbrella, I make my way to the door and out into the rain.

It beats rhythmically against the concrete, drawing out my anger and calming my unsteady mind. My eyes are observant while I walk the short twelve blocks to Wal-Mart. Some stray couples hold hands on the sidewalk, sharing umbrellas. The tree branches sway with the cold winds while some people shiver and complain about the atmosphere.

Entering into the warm store, I shake off any remaining raindrops and tuck my umbrella into my pocket. My bangs fall into my eyes, dripping water down the front of my shirt. Shivering, I pull my jacket closer, trailing down the girls' isle.

For ten minutes I look around, trying to figure out just what size the child could be. I make risking guesses of size six and pick out as many black clothes as I can find. I allow a few pink dresses to slip into the pile as I make my way towards the toy isle.

Throwing some small bath toys into the basket, I also eye over some dolls and finally stop myself. I stare down at the basket of clothes, taking in a sharp breath. What was I thinking? What suddenly came over me to want to clothe and keep the child inside my apartment when I already had the trouble of having Rosha there?

Why the urge to suddenly want people around me?

I ball my hands into fists at my sides, shaking my head back at forth while rubbing at my face. My hand moves to my neck and then rubs that with a large sigh. What am I going to do? Someone on the streets could be missing her. She could have a family that lived on the streets.

Groaning, I sit down in the middle of the isle, staring at the wall of dolls. I rest my head in my hands, closing my eyes to think.

It doesn't take long for someone to notice me sitting there. They ask me if I'm alright, but I shoo them away with a growl and a wave of my hands. Soon they are gone down another isle, leaving me be.

Standing once again, I give in to allowing the child to live amongst Rosha and me. There is a high chance someone will be looking for her. For the time being, I can spare the couch to the child and give her a warm home during the wait.

Grabbing some dolls and coloring books, I find some crayons, a toothbrush and toothpaste adding those to the basket as well. I make a beeline for the registers and check out in no less than a few minutes, carrying the bags in one arm. I hold them protectively against my chest as I hold my umbrella in the other, dashing through the rain towards my apartment.

Barging through the door, the child squeaks, wearing one of Rosha's shirts. It's very large on her, the bottom almost touching the floor. She clings to my leg once I set the bags down onto the couch.

It doesn't take long to dress her. Her hair has already been brushed, Rosha being the one able to keep her still and calm as she brushed and then cut the child's hair to her jaw-line. The black clothes make her eyes shine brightly more, a small smile on her face.

Both our tummies growl in unison once the smell of Rosha's roast hits our sniffers. The young girl reaches out for me to pick her up, and I hesitate once again. Her tiny frame sticks out against the clothes which are one size too big. Her big, green eyes plead at me as she bounces to reach up at me.

"Are we keeping her?" Rosha cautiously enters, plates in her hand.

With a big sigh I take one and lift the child into my other arm, "For now, yes. I can believe there must be someone in the city that will be looking for her in these next couple of days." Throwing her a look I raise a brow, "And what do you mean by we?"

"I-it was only fitting to say we when I live here as well. We're in this together, r-right?" Her hands squeeze tightly to the two remaining plates.

Avoiding her question, I move to the kitchen, setting the child down into a barstool. Then I turn to Rosha and push her into the barstool beside her. She didn't move or make a sound, obeying. Stealing the plates, I serve both the child and Rosha before myself, joining them at the counter soon after.

It's during halfway through the meal when Rosha speaks up again.

"What will we call her?"

I make a quick glance at the child as she gets seconds for herself, and find myself with a small smile on my lips. "Annie."

"Annie? Alright."

We both fixate our gaze on her as she fights her way back up into the barstool with Rosha's help. She digs right in for the second time, chewing happily at her dinner.

I bring my plate to the sink, rinsing it off and setting it with the others. My hands grip the sides of the sink as I stare down the drain, taking a moment to digest all that was happening that evening.

Annie gently tugs my shirt, handing me her plate as she wiggles off her seat. A tiny yawn escapes her mouth as she brings her thumb to her mouth. She sucks it, head tilted in a curious way as she holds my hand.

I notice Rosha grin out of the corner of my eye.

"She's grown attached to you."

"Unfortunately, she has," I gently squeeze Annie's hand, guiding her to the couch.

She crawls under the throw blanket, choosing one of her dolls to sleep beside her. She's named it Miss Suzy, a skinny Barbie with the default blonde hair and blue eyes. She's dressed it in a blue sparkly dress and her hair in a ponytail.

"Sleep, Annie. Yell for Rosha or me if you need us ok?" I tuck the pillow under her head.

She continues to suck her thumb and nod.

It is not long before she closes her eyes and is asleep. Her thumb dislodges itself from her mouth and falls onto the cushion beside her. Miss Suzy stares up at me, face in a permanent plastic smile.

"Rosha, bedtime." I command.

She stands, putting her plate in the sink before standing beside me. She gently rubs my shoulder and looks into my eyes, "Rikki, we are in this together, right?"

I avert her gaze, staring down at Annie. My voice grows cold, "Get to bed, Rosha."

"Rikkira..." She starts but I snarl and interrupt.

"God d****t, Rosha. Get in bed. Now. We're not having this discussion right now and I suggest you stop persisting and do as I say!" I raise my voice.

Silence rings in between us as tears weld up in her eyes. They're grey again. Full of hurt and confusion. Both our eyes glance towards Annie, who is sitting up on the couch. Her adorable eyes fall upon me and then to Rosha.

"Why are mommies fighting?" Her head tilts some.

"We're not fighting, Annie. Please lie down and go back to sleep." I coax, tucking her in again.

But she is persistent, fighting me. "No, mommy. No lie to me."

Groaning, I rub at my temples and glance over at Rosha who is wiping her eyes. She tries a soft smile towards me and winces when I move towards her. I grab her in an awkward hug to comfort not only her, but Annie as well so the child would sleep.

It is to my surprise when Rosha squeezes me tightly, burring her face in my neck as she cries silently. I feel the tears train down my neck like raindrops, and my throat feels raw with foreign guilt.

We remain like that for a few minutes. I am well aware of Annie's steady breathing as she sleeps. I can feel Rosha's breathing steady as her cries stop and she relaxes in my arms as I guide her to my bedroom. Her whimpers have quieted. Her convulsing has stopped. Her green eyes return their natural, exotic hue, rimmed with a saddening red.

I change into my sleepwear, back towards Rosha as I change. I allow my bangs to hang into my eyes as I turn to her. She's sitting cross legged on the bed, clutching tightly to one of my pillows. As gentle as I can, I take the pillow from her and set it back down beside the others. After doing so, she latches onto me again, shaking slightly.

"God damn, Rosha. Breathe. You're all crazy like I'm going to murder you. Am I hurting you in any way?"

Her voice is a whisper, "No."

"So then relax."

She tries, steadying her breathing and closing her eyes. Then she rises off the bed, unlatching herself from me.

"Y-you probably want to sleep. I-I'll go to my own bed now..."

As her fingers linger on the doorway going out, I call her name, having her head peek in tilted with an eyebrow raised.

"I never told you, you had to leave."

Wait... What was I doing?

She bounces back in, lying on my bed. Her exotic green eyes rested upon my own. I could feel the admiration she radiated as if it were leaking from her skin onto mine. And trapped within my own thoughts, I gained urges to hold her again. To feel the warmth of her skin. To feel the love that escaped out of her every pore.

My head and heart argue in the quiet as Rosha slowly moves onto her side and slips into unconsciousness. Her steady breathing returns as she sleeps peacefully beside me. Lost in my own fights between my head and my heart, both ache and pound away at my body without any remorse.

 A groan escapes my lips as I grit my teeth and ball my hands into the sheets.

This awakens Rosha, and her hands are gently rubbing at my shoulders to relax me. I fight her off with a protest, telling her to return to sleep, but she argues against it, trying again. We quickly find ourselves wrestling with the other as I'm growling atop and she whimpers below me.

Soon enough she breaks away, shaking and whimpering. It seems I have sprained her wrist as she clutches it in the other hand and holds it close to her chest. We both try to find our breath, panting slightly on the bed.

Staring at her with a mixture of anger and sadness, I rise from the bed and escape to the restroom. Fumbling through the cabinets, I search and toss old pill bottles and other prescription bottles onto the floor. They clatter on the floor, scattering some remaining pills everywhere.

I become aware of Rosha's presence once the floor squeaks in the doorway. Her head is tilted in the same puppy dog-like manner. A spark of curiosity hidden behind the locked doors of her eyes.

After time, I manage to tear apart the bathroom to find the one item I had been searching for most of the evening. I gently slip Rosha's arm into the sling and roughly tie it together around her. She winces and wines while I work, but I throw a cold look and she quiets immediately.

As we return to my bed, we both lie on our backs, and I let out a long sigh, rubbing at my face. Rosha glances my way, concerned, good arm reaching out to softly touch my hand in consol. I smile small, looking her way.

"Would you like some ice for your arm?"

She looks down at it, examines it.

"Not now. Maybe in the morning though, if it swells."

Silence rings between us again. Then Rosha breaks it.

"When Annie called us both 'mommy', you didn't correct her. Why is that?"

"It must've slipped by me. I'll correct her next time. She is to call you Rosha. And I will teach her to call me Rikki."

Somehow, secretly, saying that hurts me in a nameless way. For some strange reason my heart wants to keep the child. Wants her to continue calling me mommy. Wants me to continue exploring the developing feelings of love and affection for her. And both brain and heart come to a conclusion to give into the developing feelings of trust and affection I was starting to grow for Rosha.

As I glance her way, my eyes trail towards the doorway to find Annie sucking her thumb and holding her new teddy bear in the other. She sniffles at Rosha and me, staring at us both. Instinct floods over my thoughts and I stand, moving towards the child.

"What's wrong, Annie?" I try to kindly cup her chin in my fingers.

She wipes at her eyes and hugs me with an adorable pouty face, "I had a nightmare mommy."

Her words melt over my cold heart and I find myself struggling to find my identity. Just how were Rosha and Annie so able to get me to show affection and love? Both feelings were locked deep down in the dark regions of my soul and yet now they blossom like a new flower.

Never in my life was I shown any kindness. And never did I learn how to show any to anyone. It was always feelings bottled up inside, never spoken aloud, never released. The anger and hatred for humans just grew over time, as so did the hardening of my cold heart.

Looking down upon the young, sweet face of the child, I smile gently, caressing her face. Though my heart and mind argue again against my new feelings and how I should use them, I let them become instincts until my body can come to a happy medium.

"A nightmare? Well that's not good at all. Why don't you snuggle up here in my bed with your mommies?" I take her into my arms and wedge her carefully between Rosha and me as so Annie cannot kick Rosha's bad arm while squirming around in her sleep.

Again the child clings to me, holding my arm close to her as we all settle down for sleep.

For once in a great moon, I do not shudder at the idea of us being a small, broken family. For once, it brings a beaming smile to my face as I close my eyes and sigh, relaxing into the soft folds of my sheets.