tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14705878245858801162024-03-14T04:15:23.994-07:00The Cliffe LegacySallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-36038296645427978862018-01-10T08:08:00.001-08:002018-01-10T08:08:55.810-08:00Generation 2-Chapter 6<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Since my first night at my new home, I've been practicing on my guitar and painting skills. I figure, if I can't go out during daylight hours to hold down a regular job, at least I could sell my paintings and maybe get some nightly gigs to make some money. Because, honestly, this shack is too small. You can barely move in any direction. Don't get me wrong though; it's cute, but it could be a lot better. Plus it would be nice to not go outside every time I need to use the bathroom.<br />
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I've also been doing some research on my phone to try and see if there's any known cure of vampirism. I couldn't find much . . . at least nothing realistically about vampires. It seems they still keep to the shadows. <i>Heh, heh, get it?</i><br />
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That night, I went out searching for possible places to play. Finally, I come to a local club. I heard the owner arguing with one of the band members, who refused to play any more that night. <b>"Alright, Frank, but if you leave, don't you ever think about coming back!"</b> the owner screamed as the band filed out of the club. <i> </i><br />
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<i>This is my chance</i>, I thought. Cautiously, I approached the man and poked him on the shoulder. <b>"Sir,"</b> I murmered.<br />
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<b>"What do you want?"</b> he huffed.<br />
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<b>"I'm sorry, sir, but I couldn't help but overhear your band leave. If it's okay with you, I'd be willing to pick up the slack,"</b> I said.<br />
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The man took a deep breath, fully listening to my offer. <b>"I'll tell you what; you play tonight, and at the end we will determine how much it's worth, alright?"</b><br />
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I nodded, and turned around, taking in the large crowd watching me. <i>It's okay, Layla. You can do this.</i> I took a deep breath, and took my place on the stage. After what seemed like a whole minute of awkward silence, my fingers found their way to the strings. I closed my eyes for a few moments, finding my rhythm. I poured my heart and soul into what I was playing. It started off soft, full of despair, and the crowd was silent. Then, in the middle of everything, I picked it up. I got faster, louder, imagining my life as it had been and what I hoped it would be. The shift in my chords got easier and easier until, finally, I opened my eyes and smiled at the sight in front of me. The crowd loved it! Some were dancing, others clapping, others just sitting almost awe-struck. They fueled my spirit even further, and to be honest I dragged the song out simply because I was having so much fun! When I finished I put my guitar down and walked to the bar. I know, technically I'm too young to drink, but who's going to refuse a vampire who just rocked the stage?<br />
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<b>"What would you like?"</b> the bar tender asked, not really noticing my true age.<br />
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<b>"Something.... fruity, with a lot of kick. Surprise me,"</b> I told him. To be honest, I had no clue what I wanted. I've never really drunk a lot before. Maybe a sip here and there when I could find it.<br />
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Soon after, the bar tender slid me my first real, alcoholic drink. It had what looked like sugar or salt around the rim of the glass, and even had a small umbrella in the mix. I blinked and looked up at the bar tender, who looked at me curiously. I've never seen anything like this before. I almost wasn't sure where to start. Should I lick off the salt/sugar first and then drink, should I mix it somehow? Not wanting to draw any more attention to myself, I put the drink to my lips and just drank. The salt ended up in the mix somehow, dancing on my tongue as I drank. It surprised me how the salt seemed to make the drink even sweeter! The bar tender looked pleased with my reaction, and hurried away to help other customers waving to him at the end of the bar.<br />
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<b>"Hi, what's your name?"</b> a voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to face the man beside me, his yellowish eyes seeming to stare into my soul.<br />
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<b>"Layla Cliffe,"</b> I muttered. <b>"What's yours?"</b><br />
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<b>"Andrew."</b> I blushed and looked away. <i>Gosh, Layla. You act like you've never talked to a boy before.</i> <b>"So,"</b> the man paused, <b>"do you play a lot?"</b><br />
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I looked at him, almost shocked. <b>"I'm sorry. What?"</b><br />
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With a chuckle, the man answered, <b>"Do you play your guitar often . . like this?"</b><br />
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I was suddenly very aware of the bulging vein on the man's neck, calling me. Out of everyone in the entire room, his attracted me the most. It smelled almost.. sweet, but not in the sense of the alcohol. I swallowed hard, trying to push my desire down. I haven't fed since the night I attacked that poor sim. I just haven't felt the need. In fact, I've felt better than ever. It seems vampires don't need to feed every single day. I tried to focus on the man's eyes; his beautiful, intense eyes. But I couldn't, not with his heartbeat echoing in my ears! <b>"No, no, this is my first time--"</b><br />
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<b>"Really, wow!"</b> the man said.<br />
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<b>"Yeah, thanks,"</b> I said, rising from my seat, <b>"but I really must go."</b><br />
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<b>"Hey, where are y-" </b>the man said as he started to get up.<br />
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<b>"Sorry! It was nice meeting you!" </b>I shouted back over the music as I rushed to the door.<br />
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Outside I was confronted by the owner. <i>Oh, great. He hated it, I thought</i>. <b>"Hey, Kiddo, where ya goin'?"</b> he asked.<br />
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<b>"Oh, I was just heading home,"</b> I said, about to brush past him.<br />
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Suddenly the man reached for his wallet, handing me $1,000. <b>"1,000?!"</b> I squealed.<br />
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The man smiled.<b> "Yeah, Kiddo, you've earned it. That's the most engaged I've seen my audience in a long time! I added a little extra. Kiddo, I want you in my club EVERY night. At least for a while. You think you can do that?"</b><br />
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<b>"Oh, yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"</b> I exclaimed.<br />
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<b>"Alright, now. Off you go,"</b> he shooed me away.Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-81102814532503159502018-01-09T04:26:00.000-08:002018-01-09T04:30:55.138-08:00Generation 2-Chapter 5<b><br /></b>
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<b>Note from author</b>: I just wanted to say sorry to my readers in advance. I haven't posted any new chapters in FOREVER and the main reason to that is because I lost the save. I lost everything regarding The Cliffe Legacy; characters, houses, town, everything. But I don't want to start over because they have been my favorite family. (Sorry, Salline!) So the characters I use will look different. Please bare with me. Also if you have any tips or suggestions feel free to comment below!</div>
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Things took an unexpected turn after the night with the <i>Celestial Shadow</i> pianist. The first night was okay, other than the constant tears and feeling utterly worthless. It seemed things always seemed to go wrong for me, and it only got worse. What was wrong with me? Why was I always the pawn in life's cruel game? My sister always seemed to have it easy; no struggles. She was pretty, and had boys worshiping the floor she walked on. Why couldn't I be like that?<br />
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But it doesn't matter. Since that night, I have never been the same. My life has changed, and no matter how much I'd like things to go back to normal---mommy and daddy's <i>sweet, innocent, little girl</i>---they can't.<br />
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A few days after the attack, I began feeling really weird. I felt sick, and had an aversion to food. <i>All</i> food. I felt I couldn't tell a soul about the attack, so I kept it to myself. I kept trying to convince myself that my body was just in shock, and I would be okay in a few more days.<br />
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I couldn't have been any more wrong.<br />
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Eventually, my body transitioned. I tried to refuse it, by only eating human food. But even smelling my normal favorite foods made me nauseous. My family worried about me, constantly asking if I felt okay and if there was anything they could do to help me feel better. I told them I had just caught some kind of stomach bug, and would feel better soon. However, there's only so many lies you can tell when you're standing next to someone you love and you can hear their heart---their <i>beautiful, <b>blood-pumping</b>, healthy, heart</i>---just <i>begging</i> you to take a bite. I realized I had to escape. I knew if I stayed, this thirst would completely take over and I would do something I regretted. Each day, my thirst was getting stronger, and stronger, so I hatched a plan of escape.<br />
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I would wait until nightfall. When my parents and my sister had fallen asleep, I would grab everything of value I needed, and simply vanish. Cliche, I know, a teenager running away in the middle of the night . . . but for one, I would get caught during the day, and two, I wasn't sure how long this new body of mine could handle the heat of direct sunlight.<br />
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I planted a note on the kitchen counter telling my family just how much I love them, that they are the most important thing to me, but that I just couldn't stay any longer, that I had to get out to live my life and hoped to see them soon. The truth was, I wasn't sure if I would ever see them again. I didn't want to frighten them by telling them my condition, or how I was "protecting" them by leaving. They had to believe that I just wanted to leave; maybe they wouldn't try to find me.<br />
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With tears falling silently down my cheeks, I took one more look at our small, family home, and closed the door---<i>possibly forever</i>.<br />
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My next task was to find somewhere far away from my family to stay, just in case they did come looking for me. I figured a couple towns over, at least. I found solace in the town of Isla Paradiso. I found a small, abandoned shack, and decided to call it home.<br />
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It certainly was... interesting. But it was completely secluded. Although I would need to fix it up a little bit and do something to cover those windows. I had a long day ahead of me. The place needed some definite scrubbing. I felt like I couldn't sit down until I got all the dirt and grime off everything. In the end, I decided it would be much easier to just paint. I had found a couple cans of paint in the back of the house near the outhouse (gross!).<br />
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I don't think it looks too bad. Still not exactly to my tastes, but I don't exactly have much choice right now. Maybe later on I can extend it and actually have an<i> inside</i> bathroom!</div>
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When I finished, I finally sat down. My mind started wondering what my family was up to, and whether they had discovered my note yet. The sun had risen once I arrived here, so it would be about time they discovered it. I was so sad, but I had to accept this as my fate. I never should have went to that stupid club. I should have listened when my mother said no. She always knew best. I sighed and looked at my new bed. I sure was exhausted. </div>
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It was dusk when I woke up. I decided to work on my painting on an old art easel I found outside. Halfway through the painting, however, I felt the full extent of my thirst hitting me. I couldn't take it anymore. I HAD to feed ... on something. My throat was burning with desire, and my sharp fangs throbbing. My first real meal since the transition, would be tonight. </div>
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I felt this growing power inside of me. It was like it was almost completely consuming me, every single minute without drinking was dragging me further and further from humanity until ... I attacked the first sim I come to. She was helpless to stop me. I felt absolutely awful, and yet much better at the same time.</div>
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By the time I got back, it was much darker. I heard this loud yowling coming from the woods behind the house. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I followed the sound. Out crawled a cat! I must admit, I've always been a sucker for cats, and seeing as I had to leave mine at home ...er, my family's home, this company was much appreciated.<b> "What's wrong, kitty cat? Where'd you come from?"</b> I looked around the area, and found nothing. No collar, either. I looked down at the cat's sweet face. It was as though the cat was thanking me for rescuing it from the brambles.</div>
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I sat the cat down and began to brush it. Its fur was so matted and dirty, I hoped it would at least help that cat feel better. <b>"It's okay, you can stay with me. It's okay if you don't want to, I would understand,"</b> I told the cat. The cat seemed to smile back up to me and began to purr as I brushed it. </div>
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<i>Great, Layla, now you're talking to cats. How crazy are you.</i></div>
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As dawn approached, I went to sleep again. It was time I changed my sleep schedule to fit this new vampiric life. But at least I felt a bit better, knowing a new friend was by my side. </div>
Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-81668678787069849232012-12-19T23:38:00.000-08:002012-12-19T23:42:14.324-08:00Generation 2-Chapter 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>"Please,"</b> I drew out the word to hopefully make more of an impact.<br />
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<b>"No, I said,"</b> Mom muttered as she roamed throughout the cabin we were renting, gathering dirty clothes on the floor."<br />
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<b>"Well why not?"</b> I asked, crossing my arms.<br />
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<b>"Because I said so!"</b> she exclaimed, a glint of anger in her eyes. <b>"Now, help me get these to the washer."</b> I bent down to help her get the clothes, but I was determined. There was no way I was going to be defeated.<br />
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<b>"Mom, please, <i>everyone</i> is going to be there,</b>" I pleaded. She let out a long sigh.<br />
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<b>"Well you're not everyone,"</b> she shot back.<br />
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This called for drastic measures. . .</div>
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Getting in her line of sight, I made sure to give the most pitiful face, along with the "puppy pout." I could see her hard exterior begin to soften. She couldn't resist for too much longer.<br />
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<b>"Fine,"</b> she mumbled.<br />
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<b>"YES!"</b><br />
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<b>"But don't stay out too late! And be careful!"</b> she shouted as I bound to get dressed.<br />
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After about two hours I was finally ready. It was going to be one of the greatest nights of the year because tonight I was going to go to my first club. The good thing about being in Bridgeport is all the night clubs. Party people, my favorite kind.<br />
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We were in Bridgeport on a sort of vacation, to get a break from our normal agenda.We've been here nearly a week already, and I'm not exactly sure when we'll go back or even <i>if</i> we will.<br />
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Bridgeport was much bigger than Sunset Valley. In some ways, I loved Bridgeport. It's party atmosphere was so very hard to resist, but in other ways I was scared by it. I knew Sunset Valley like the back of my hand; back roads, secret trails, everything. But with Bridgeport all I know is the big lights, and a few dark alleys.<br />
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<i>What if I got lost?</i></div>
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<i>What if I got ran over?</i></div>
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<i>What if I was pushed off the bridge?</i></div>
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You never know what could happen to you in Bridgeport, especially when you're unaware of the famous terrain. Those things could very well happen in Sunset Valley, but there, at least, I have some sense of security.<br />
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I will just have to trust the people here. Trust the city. Besides, there's people all around. I suppose that if something were to happen, someone would see it. Right?<br />
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I really wasn't sure what to think upon first entrance. People were scattered in small cliques, doing anything from arm wrestling, to dancing wildly. The club was dark inside, dimly lit by torches lining the walls.<br />
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Tunes from a piano filled my ear drums, and eventually I began to get used to it.<br />
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Thick in the air was a sour-sweet smell of alcohol, and drunks hidden away in shadowy corners.<br />
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On stage was mysterious man, rapidly playing the piano. He had what looked like a "V" tattoo on his neck. He rocked with the music, allowing it to fill his veins, consume him, and letting it flow to him. He never looked down at his keys, and I could tell he was a pro.<br />
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Eventually he was joined by a woman, and another man. They were unusually pale, and her eyes seemed to glow a bright yellow. I shrugged it off; perhaps it was the light. However, they too played like pros.<br />
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The man was just as pale as the woman, though from where I was standing it looked like he had red contacts in, probably to match the red-black theme. He didn't seem as focused as the other two, but he played flawlessly. He'd smirk each time the crowd chanted, <b>"<i>Celestial Shadow</i>!"</b><br />
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I found it to be an odd band name. What did it mean? How did they come up with it? What was its significance? </div>
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<b>"You're not from around here, are you?"</b> the pianist asked on his break.</div>
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<b>"How did you guess?"</b> I laughed.</div>
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<b>"Just a sense, I guess,"</b> he smiled.</div>
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<b>"Do you want to go some where else and talk?"</b> he suggested.</div>
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<b>"Well, I don't know.."</b></div>
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I wasn't so sure going some where with this stranger was such a good idea, even though he was in a cool band. I was curious, but that didn't mean I was willing to go off somewhere to find out.</div>
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<b>"Oh, come on,"</b> he persisted.</div>
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<b>"N-"</b> I started, but didn't finish.</div>
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Suddenly I felt <i>something</i>. Now I had the urge to follow him, where ever he went. At this point I could have probably follow him to the moon and back. <b>"Okay,"</b> I mumbled, still baffled by my sudden decision, but I seemed unable to resist. </div>
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When we finally found a place to sit, he had led me to the VIP section, which at this time was completely empty except for us. He didn't talk much. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts. Or bored to death, I couldn't tell which. He just listened to me ramble on about music, my life, and my family.</div>
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<i>That was until he suddenly planted a kiss on me.</i></div>
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I was taken off guard, but one look from his bright-glowing blue eyes and I couldn't stop myself. </div>
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I wasn't sure what had happened to me. One minute I was being an innocent little girl, and the next I was making out with the pianist from <i>Celestial Shadow.</i></div>
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I melted each time he kissed my neck. It sent a shock through me, a spark, and left me wanting more. I kissed him back, lustfully, begging for more.. But I couldn't stop. I wanted to. But it was as if my body were my enemy, with a mind of its own. </div>
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Suddenly he stopped, his lips hovering above my neck.</div>
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<b>"What's wrong?"</b> I asked.</div>
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Next thing I knew, I was feeling a pain unlike any other. All I could see was the shine of fangs, glowing eyes, and blood hitting his shirt. <i>My</i> blood. He held me frozen in place by thick arms, strength not human. What was he?</div>
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<b>"Wha-"</b> I mumbled.</div>
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<b>"Oh, and welcome to Bridgeport,"</b> he said as he stormed out.</div>
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div>
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A special thanks to Calista for letting me use her screenshot of Bridgeport! </div>
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I love it.</div>
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It's amazing. <span class="userContent">♥</span></div>
</div>
Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-6282697459447189742012-12-12T19:30:00.010-08:002012-12-12T19:54:43.461-08:00Generation 2-Chapter 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My eyes opened slowly, resistant to obey the morning light as it shone in through the bedroom window. I was so exhausted. All I ever wanted to do was sleep, and it seemed as though my body never could recover the emotional stress that Zack gave me all that time ago. Mom and Dad never knew, and Julie hadn't told them.<br />
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I sat up on my bedside, listening to the bustle of my family, so loud that I knew there was no way that I could go back to sleep. I let out a long sigh, and began to wander through the halls.<br />
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<b>"Hurry! Hurry!"</b> I heard Mom exclaim as I heard something crash on the floor. I rounded the corner just in time to see my sister kneeling over a broken plate.<br />
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<b>"Mom! Please,"</b> she pleased aggravatedly. I knelt down beside her and began gathering the broken fragments. After throwing them away, I crept over to my mother's side, planting a small peck on her cheek.<br />
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<b>"Merry Christmas, Mom!"</b> I told her. She flashed me a hurried smile before continuing her <i>Christmas Cooking Rage</i>. Over her shoulder stood a bright-eyed Dad, attempting to "tell" her how to cook. She bit her lip, I assume to stop herself from saying the wrong thing, or perhaps to keep herself from hitting him. I chuckled, and the couple moved their gaze to me.<br />
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<b>"What?"</b> Mom snapped. I shrugged my shoulders. She took a deep breath, and a much softer voice flowed from her mouth. <b>"I'm sorry, hunny, I'm just a little frustrated. Your grandparents are going to be here any moment, and I still don't have dinner completely made."</b><br />
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As it turned out, Grandma and Grandpa were a little late. It allowed Mom and Dad more time to get everything situated, though. It truly was a nice Christmas. Everyone showed up. Julie's boyfriend also joined the party . . .<br />
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It got harder and harder each time to see Danny with my sister after what Zack did. We have never talked about it, though. I'm sure he knows. Julie and him are getting pretty serious, it seemed.We've hardly made eye contact since the incident with Zack.<br />
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~~</div>
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After dinner, when everyone was completely stuffed and couldn't possibly eat another bite, Mom called out, <b>"Okay! Present time!"</b> Her face was nearly blood red with all the laughing that had gone on where the adults were sitting.</div>
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<b>"Darn right, it's present time,"</b> Dad laughed. Everyone laughed and Mom gently slapped his shoulder. </div>
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<b>"Let's go then,"</b> she grinned.</div>
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They disappeared down the hall, and when they came back I couldn't believe my eyes. <b>"Layla, you're first. We got you this cat because we know how much you love cats, and how alone you feel stuck up in your room all the time. We love you, and we want you to be happy."</b></div>
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<b>"Mom, Dad,"</b> I mumbled as I examined the feline. <b>"I love you too. Thank you so much! She is adorable!"</b><br />
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<b>"Next,"</b> they continued their gift-giving, <b>"we have Julie.</b>" Suddenly Dad let out a high whistle, and a dog rounded the corner, running at full speed into the room. Julie bent down and intercepted the ball of fur.</div>
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<b>"Thanks, Mom and Dad! He's the best!"</b> Julie exclaimed, roughing up her pup's fur with a big smile. It has always been our dream to have pets. Now we have them.. </div>
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After that, we took pictures. . . </div>
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Merry Christmas, everyone! I made the post so early because I was sure I wouldn't have time to finish it during Christmas day . . . So, you get it early! Feel free to leave a comment.</div>
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Also; I changed the blog layout, as you can see. What do you think about it?<br />
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OH. By the way. Did anyone notice the slideshow at the bottom? Betcha didn't. ;) </div>
Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-57431590974813106472012-06-19T00:14:00.004-07:002012-06-19T00:37:39.492-07:00Generation 2-Chapter 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj37nvGQuFn48WVfeCpQpbNhIHznpudYXeT1aaJANo43hNQeM4rF2nlgwMdsJ1DB4rRfzXI3fhAcC4sqM3Fg_StZBCEXal0VDwM8kRuF44v0dhMCFNzClV85Ha9JQi0ATT4RJ8B2iEinHOw/s1600/Screenshot-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj37nvGQuFn48WVfeCpQpbNhIHznpudYXeT1aaJANo43hNQeM4rF2nlgwMdsJ1DB4rRfzXI3fhAcC4sqM3Fg_StZBCEXal0VDwM8kRuF44v0dhMCFNzClV85Ha9JQi0ATT4RJ8B2iEinHOw/s400/Screenshot-24.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It has been nearly a year since my relationship with Zack has taken off. He’s the sweetest, cutest, and coolest person I know. He’s amazing, and I seriously believe that I might just have fallen for him. Of course we have our ups and downs, but I know it’s all worth it. <br />
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One day I will be his wife. I just know it. I can’t wait until I can get out of this house and be with him 24/7. My family just doesn’t understand us. They think he’s a waste of time, and they don’t like him. But they’re wrong. Dead wrong.<br />
<br />
~~~<br />
<br />
I was watching a ridiculous cartoon that night. I heard the door open, causing me to look over to that direction.<br />
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<b>“Hey!”</b> I exclaimed as I stood up and rushed over to him. <b>“What are you doing here?”</b><br />
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<b>“Well I wanted to take you somewhere <i>special</i> for our anniversary,”</b> he said.<br />
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<b>“OMG. Zack, that is <i>so</i> sweet!”</b> I hugged him. <b>“So where are we going?”</b> I asked.<br />
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<b>“That‘s for me to know, and you to find out,”</b> he said with a grin.<br />
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<b>“So let‘s go!”</b> I took his hand and led him outside.<br />
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<b>“So, which way?”</b> I asked.<br />
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<b>“This way,”</b> he pointed, <b>“but stay in the shadows.”</b><br />
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<b>“Why?”</b><br />
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<b>“Hello!”</b> he said, <b>“It‘s like two a.m. and the police are out. <i>Duh</i>.”</b><br />
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~~~<br />
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We sat down at the fire pit, roasting a few marshmallows. It wasn’t exactly a fancy dinner, but it was good enough for me. After having a few of them, I turned my attention to Zack. <b>“So you brought me out here to the lake, at 2 a.m., to have marshmallows?”</b> I asked, laughing. He laughed. <br />
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<b>“Not exactly.”</b> He stood up and came over to me.<br />
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<b>“Then what were you thinking?” </b>I asked.<br />
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<b>“I‘ll show you,” </b>he grinned and gently pulled me up from my chair.<br />
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He pinned me against the wall, forcing his lips on mine once again. He seemed to grow hungrier, and hungrier, and his weight against mine was suffocating. But I said nothing, because I didn’t want to lose him. He was the best thing to ever happen to me.<br />
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But then he started fumbling with the latch of my bra. I pulled back from him, stunned. This is what he had planned? His jaw clenched in anger. <b>“Zack, please, no. I‘m not ready for this,”</b> I pleaded. <br />
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<b>“Yeah? And when will you be ready? Two years from now? Hell no. I‘ve waited long enough. What? You thought all those nice things I did, you thought they were all for you? Our <i>love</i>?”</b> He laughed.<br />
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<b>“I-”</b> I mumbled. Tears were streaming down my cheeks now. It was all a lie. All of it. He only wanted me for one thing, like most guys his age. Was I going to just let him have it? No, I couldn’t. <br />
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I built up my courage and pushed him back, attempting to get away from his grasp. I had to run.. Had to get away from him.<br />
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<b>“Let me go!”</b> I screamed, and kicked. <br />
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<b>“F*ck you, b**ch. You wanted this. I know you did.”</b><br />
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<i>It was too late.</i><br />
<i> </i> <br />
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He left me there. Battered, bruised, violated, exploited, humiliated . . . <br />
I was unsure of how to go on. Was is supposed to go home and act as if nothing had happened? Just lie here until I died? Tell someone?<br />
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<b>“Layla! What happened? Are you alright?”</b> I could hear my sister screaming as she ran over to me as the sun rose.<br />
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<b>“Layla,”</b> she said, <b>“you‘re my sister, and I love you to death. I hate seeing you like this. That <i>monster</i> will not get away with this.”</b>Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-5694801418177975132012-04-12T19:54:00.001-07:002012-04-12T20:10:14.872-07:00Generation 2-Chapter 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfQntFd-YR-UD0ZVFSAx7DWHnFP4u6OKDfUdnYNFrgV5PJPQvzo9Ya8-pLU65V62H_ospB7bkQtJGG2JfXk7Kqit0KO3FT89-ed9TM_wT6oT-ekuYJf18pzfhsneY_-PVQsmrfpJUtCrT/s1600/Screenshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfQntFd-YR-UD0ZVFSAx7DWHnFP4u6OKDfUdnYNFrgV5PJPQvzo9Ya8-pLU65V62H_ospB7bkQtJGG2JfXk7Kqit0KO3FT89-ed9TM_wT6oT-ekuYJf18pzfhsneY_-PVQsmrfpJUtCrT/s400/Screenshot.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Right after they had gone I got on the computer and started emailing my friends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Hey guys(: </b>," I said.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Hey Layla,"</b> Zack wrote back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"What? No 'hi' to me? :P </b>," Danny joked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Guys, listen. My parents are gone for two days or so. . They won some sweepstakes or something and got to go on a trip. Anyways, you all wanna come down today?"</b> I asked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"HECK YEAH!"</b> they both responded.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDqzfRLtXmbooYRArYXTim1HmZDahWz3gfPRnbCzPRzJfFsGqqd22aq-myIhlU611P9D_ZX-PafyhHBfijSEgPophbxwqXoZo-S7pGBpIlfRSo_qw9QPUjLmqi8IexLhYyHQH6AJ8gpDy/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDqzfRLtXmbooYRArYXTim1HmZDahWz3gfPRnbCzPRzJfFsGqqd22aq-myIhlU611P9D_ZX-PafyhHBfijSEgPophbxwqXoZo-S7pGBpIlfRSo_qw9QPUjLmqi8IexLhYyHQH6AJ8gpDy/s400/Untitled.jpg" width="396" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMssr9tqkkY6hTf-WSzsl-Infg35Sz9czrO6HZZ0g5Yrx-6560W9FLRmVdrIw9QS8QgyuGjewNAd0n1Hnz1Gt4qBT1sKkwEXQB92jOzjTZBympcqHq8P4ApITy6Zc1ijnwvLJTAKH-zk8/s1600/Screenshot-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMssr9tqkkY6hTf-WSzsl-Infg35Sz9czrO6HZZ0g5Yrx-6560W9FLRmVdrIw9QS8QgyuGjewNAd0n1Hnz1Gt4qBT1sKkwEXQB92jOzjTZBympcqHq8P4ApITy6Zc1ijnwvLJTAKH-zk8/s400/Screenshot-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A long silence passed by as we sat there. This was <i>really</i> boring . . <b>"Why are we just sitting here?"</b> Zack finally asked, breaking the silence.</div><br />
<b>"I don't know!"</b> Danny responded.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Yeah. What do you guys wanna do today?"</b> I asked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"I have a few suggestions,"</b> Zack grinned widely.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Oh! I know!"</b> Danny said. Zack and I turned our attention to him. <b>"I'll order pizza,"</b> he said, slipping out his phone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYoObhfAVNHrwgblrRhoUthjfbMVdWvryll5M5SUI_JN38iNTa_IDl1fZu8NcHJTXL5fU63YkjGUCwKITXpgOfdKTUQQ4cGT49JaugREJhoE824dE7zQrUu5IPk46Pro0OH3NK33QHozCi/s1600/Screenshot-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYoObhfAVNHrwgblrRhoUthjfbMVdWvryll5M5SUI_JN38iNTa_IDl1fZu8NcHJTXL5fU63YkjGUCwKITXpgOfdKTUQQ4cGT49JaugREJhoE824dE7zQrUu5IPk46Pro0OH3NK33QHozCi/s400/Screenshot-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Sounds like a plan, guys, but hold on. Let me go get rid of my stupid sister,"</b> I said before disappearing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyPKkrsJ4nnQmGFkzpNoQPw7nVeIgbSYxpX9t3ad9v80UV_ECEYBLA3RbunFo-6AqoQD8QRUzHAR7XBQhs1jDzfU6RMNZTVPdDdslDOenan0rX6kq-0v8lxOrKmAZjhwoIx1o0CQqqX8g/s1600/Screenshot-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyPKkrsJ4nnQmGFkzpNoQPw7nVeIgbSYxpX9t3ad9v80UV_ECEYBLA3RbunFo-6AqoQD8QRUzHAR7XBQhs1jDzfU6RMNZTVPdDdslDOenan0rX6kq-0v8lxOrKmAZjhwoIx1o0CQqqX8g/s400/Screenshot-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<b>"Just take the damn money!"</b> I yelled.<br />
<br />
<b>"You're not my boss! I'm not leaving. This is my house too."</b><br />
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<b>"Fine,"</b> I said, pushing her toward the door.<b> "LEAVE."</b><br />
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<b>"Why? So you and your freak friends can have all the fun? I don't think so. I want in,"</b> she said.<br />
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<b>"NO!"</b> I exclaimed. <b>"We're not going to be doing much except practicing in the basement. You're not up to that. It's not how you roll,"</b> I pointed out.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh949isrkBiEF00iaavQjG33DnY9yED7C8DNlZ_qCxnBWO1N0WSAozRYUUaFCC8YCNK01926l6OL3lxK9bN98YYyE_3sykHKrwoPB7J5eZxn9aA8UZWmPRb97mj7dV8EnwKXgZ8_qzy86G8/s1600/Screenshot-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh949isrkBiEF00iaavQjG33DnY9yED7C8DNlZ_qCxnBWO1N0WSAozRYUUaFCC8YCNK01926l6OL3lxK9bN98YYyE_3sykHKrwoPB7J5eZxn9aA8UZWmPRb97mj7dV8EnwKXgZ8_qzy86G8/s400/Screenshot-5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Now take the damn money!"</b> I said, aggressively stuffing it in her hands.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"FINE!"</b> she said, accepting the money. <b>"I don't need your lame butt anyways. I have my own friends."</b> She slammed the door as she left. </div><br />
<b>"Go then!"</b> I said before she had gone.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiispldGPgPFkk6Tfb3AVlUkh7uKbVKvOoF2YYVls8EeNLXnqVftR-o8EbkGuzCDbra6dxQ5EWUa4u1Vpn8u5wFnN-wfYGCfRZCey_wcvhm-CgG7-VdOu5YLkQV1HaxoF52Aw4lncoOIsLj/s1600/Screenshot-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiispldGPgPFkk6Tfb3AVlUkh7uKbVKvOoF2YYVls8EeNLXnqVftR-o8EbkGuzCDbra6dxQ5EWUa4u1Vpn8u5wFnN-wfYGCfRZCey_wcvhm-CgG7-VdOu5YLkQV1HaxoF52Aw4lncoOIsLj/s400/Screenshot-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Meanwhile . . </i></div><br />
<b>"Hey bro,"</b> Zack said, leaning toward Danny.<br />
<br />
<b>"Yeah?"</b><br />
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<b>"Would you mind goin' back?"</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Why?"</b> </div><br />
<b>"I want to try something . . "</b> Zack grinned.<br />
<br />
<b>"Alright, dude, but you owe me."</b><br />
<br />
<b>"Kay. Don't let her see you on the way out!"</b><b></b><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hAgiwdQ0HIvEBwH8YPXIyFsh3vx2CsEXrSLPIoGNNVrUn5rI_HMhmkDg0Q7MeY2_tPwEB8UqEU_wiDoDMFehavkdWb1WsVvM4Hh92xIC89lgUsifcc7wKUqe4FJevBiKUUbxa85zZSM5/s1600/Screenshot-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hAgiwdQ0HIvEBwH8YPXIyFsh3vx2CsEXrSLPIoGNNVrUn5rI_HMhmkDg0Q7MeY2_tPwEB8UqEU_wiDoDMFehavkdWb1WsVvM4Hh92xIC89lgUsifcc7wKUqe4FJevBiKUUbxa85zZSM5/s400/Screenshot-8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Good luck, Chuck,"</b> Danny said on his way out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwXuFIOQYjpEeiyrEthiryl3Z7Nc7bSwEAXypVUHSS70nd0qhjkaXIN6y6hYe8hJR0XcMup88MJHqYMrI86mwaGbMMYbBW19P2LXXq102Ae3DhZUVNlqvJ3BYd1T4pEJNoZtVqGNK8pPC/s1600/Screenshot-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwXuFIOQYjpEeiyrEthiryl3Z7Nc7bSwEAXypVUHSS70nd0qhjkaXIN6y6hYe8hJR0XcMup88MJHqYMrI86mwaGbMMYbBW19P2LXXq102Ae3DhZUVNlqvJ3BYd1T4pEJNoZtVqGNK8pPC/s400/Screenshot-10.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Hey, where did Danny go?"</b> I asked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"His mom called and told him to get home,"</b> Zack said.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Ah--bummer. So . . Want to go practice while we wait on the pizza?"</b> I asked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Sure. One thing first, though,"</b> he said.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Wha-"</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYfvraOxq4inUrV5zaJ_LYKVUy44E55WJpeBwif6fG14PtzNB4ud2q1C8OciWUExMQgjhSz1eAHVgm67IU-IILSY8sD6NF_ePsA6pHFFHrYNL23yQsoWr08pjzoNmEMyYIoPCigAbD8ix/s1600/Screenshot-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYfvraOxq4inUrV5zaJ_LYKVUy44E55WJpeBwif6fG14PtzNB4ud2q1C8OciWUExMQgjhSz1eAHVgm67IU-IILSY8sD6NF_ePsA6pHFFHrYNL23yQsoWr08pjzoNmEMyYIoPCigAbD8ix/s400/Screenshot-11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Before I knew it, his lips were forced upon mine. At first I resisted. He is my best friend! Best friends do NOT do things like this. Or at least, best friends <i>without</i> benefits. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He held me there in that position for a little while, using his tongue to try and part my lips. The longer we kissed, the quicker something in me changed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Maybe we <i>could </i>do this afterall.</div>Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-52388630631294259032012-03-19T18:23:00.001-07:002012-03-19T18:30:17.450-07:00Generation 1-Chapter 8<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-TZDcvPO2yaeKgfgZd4dW7uOpH7I5GUk1PKbUso6Tc7Vz2XkkozWrZ9ARFLT8QCxqn95GTW1hdEjKo-yTBsgB2Vww_rfH5KEr2YbdYCcGHGusArdJIVDSPSrEUEvUYeRSMIqK902kR-Ve/s1600/Screenshot-5+%284%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-TZDcvPO2yaeKgfgZd4dW7uOpH7I5GUk1PKbUso6Tc7Vz2XkkozWrZ9ARFLT8QCxqn95GTW1hdEjKo-yTBsgB2Vww_rfH5KEr2YbdYCcGHGusArdJIVDSPSrEUEvUYeRSMIqK902kR-Ve/s400/Screenshot-5+%284%29.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"You're beautiful, Jennifer,"</b> my sister told me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Do you think he will think that?"</b> I asked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Of course he does! He loves you!"</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"I'm not so sure,"</b> I said walking out of her reach.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"What do you mean?"</b> she asked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Well, what if he's just doing this because he feels like he has to? I mean, I had his kids. He might think he has to stay with me because of them,"</b> I told her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Listen, dear, he's not just with you because of the twins,"</b> she said.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Or--what if I get up to the altar and he runs away or something?"</b> I thought, my mind going wild with all the possible situations that might occur.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"He's not going to run."</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Why not?"</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"He <i>loves </i>you." </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"How do you know that?"</b> I asked her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"The way he looks at you,"</b> she said. I smiled at her. She was right. I was just having cold feet before the wedding, that was normal, right? Everyone got cold feet before a wedding. I took a deep breath. He did love me. Nothing bad was going to happen today. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVsA4Qaa3sHU2teZfmf9mD7uIxGCJvhJlgIf5KY_xg8dlh_tRaJhLB6bjfKCxmJxwFJwPo7L0BsesIeNISAzR79EVH0doQVmwMnXFf7Zet14SfGEYoLZi9H9Mdxpj3huNhag7hWLUck5N/s1600/Screenshot-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVsA4Qaa3sHU2teZfmf9mD7uIxGCJvhJlgIf5KY_xg8dlh_tRaJhLB6bjfKCxmJxwFJwPo7L0BsesIeNISAzR79EVH0doQVmwMnXFf7Zet14SfGEYoLZi9H9Mdxpj3huNhag7hWLUck5N/s400/Screenshot-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A woman walked into the dressing room. I didn't recognize her at first, but those eyes . . they were so familiar. <b>"Beautiful she is,"</b> the woman said.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My sister looked her over. <b>"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you're not supposed to be in the bride's dressing room,"</b> she told the woman. Of course Trisha wouldn't know who this woman was, because she was my adopted parents' daughter. Biologically, Trisha wasn't my sister. I glared at the woman. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJvSNNIqtf4rdIe3jRp9elgQLX7_snccpmwSfzjvcQmi195ljJ-Sc3DJKxxv8gpImNAxvp-Tyvmp4HJVFU-OSG60Xdl7SXs7AN1650Iwv_kxRP3zwDrUFcyXEE3qFA3teCneam8i_qMxe/s1600/Screenshot-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJvSNNIqtf4rdIe3jRp9elgQLX7_snccpmwSfzjvcQmi195ljJ-Sc3DJKxxv8gpImNAxvp-Tyvmp4HJVFU-OSG60Xdl7SXs7AN1650Iwv_kxRP3zwDrUFcyXEE3qFA3teCneam8i_qMxe/s400/Screenshot-7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Mom?!"</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Yes, dear?"</b> she answered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Mom, as in my birth mother who gave me away?"</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Now, now, it's your big day. We don't need to get into that today,"</b> she said. It only made me angrier. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"No. Let's continue this now. So after like twenty two years you decide to waltz in to see <i>MY</i> wedding?"</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Jennie,"</b> my sister scolded.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Stay OUT of this, Trisha!"</b> I yelled back at my sister.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Look,"</b> my birth mother said, <b>"it was years ago. I was a kid, I couldn't raise a kid on my own."</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Oh, but you were adult enough to go on a screw my dad. Which, by the way, where is<i> he</i>? Is he here too? Neither of you were in my life. Only dumped me off on another family that already had kids of their own to look after."</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Jennifer, please. . . Please stop this. You have to understand. I was a kid once, and you were too, what would you have done in my position?" </b>she asked. <i>Probably the same thing</i>, I thought. <b>"And your good-for-nothing-father is dead. Drug overdose."</b> <i>Oh.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"I-I'm sorry,"</b> I mumbled. <b>"I had no idea. ."</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"That's okay,"</b> she said. <b>"Guess I"ll see you inside."</b> With that, she walked out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ANmhlBNo3a70SerrKF5wzJmnd6Ns00t4oIH0QcMtb0Lv1yaizLNDMb_40c_E_bxY4c_G15TlHoqwSlCTzD5mI8APQagU7GktHDgAU_JiovuJoRmIVRX_b3I_p1YCVeQOtjntPTVYoX79/s1600/Screenshot-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ANmhlBNo3a70SerrKF5wzJmnd6Ns00t4oIH0QcMtb0Lv1yaizLNDMb_40c_E_bxY4c_G15TlHoqwSlCTzD5mI8APQagU7GktHDgAU_JiovuJoRmIVRX_b3I_p1YCVeQOtjntPTVYoX79/s400/Screenshot-8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As the tears started to form in my eyes, Trisha came to my side and hugged me. <b>"There, there,"</b> she soothed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"It's just so hard, and not fair. I know where she's coming from, but-"</b> I cut off.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"I know, I know,"</b> she agreed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"I'm sorry for yelling at you, Sis,"</b> I told her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"It's okay. I love you! Now let's get out there and show them how a real wedding is done!"</b> she exclaimed. We laughed and gathered up the twins, who were playing at a Blocks table beside us after we had finished getting them ready. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><u>~~~Ryan's POV</u></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAJTi2s0tRMtb5VMJzsLRIt8M1min6AjxbqPDyWsnmmRU9L2cTuVPwRqFfMuLQ6RiU-BTK3Q2C7gHtxDxWfGxVh2UD_bThAAFVVD182a3601Lsh3G3Pgb7PXOyCUxds__JrKDW2Xofm3P/s1600/Screenshot-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAJTi2s0tRMtb5VMJzsLRIt8M1min6AjxbqPDyWsnmmRU9L2cTuVPwRqFfMuLQ6RiU-BTK3Q2C7gHtxDxWfGxVh2UD_bThAAFVVD182a3601Lsh3G3Pgb7PXOyCUxds__JrKDW2Xofm3P/s400/Screenshot-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Now, son,"</b> my father kept saying,<b> "don't lose this one! She's a keeper!"</b> He offered a wide grin.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Dad!"</b> I groaned. <b>"How many times do I have to keep telling you? I know she's amazing. That's exactly why I proposed, remember?"</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"I'm just saying,"</b> he shrugged and walked away. I sighed and finished getting ready. It was about time for our wedding to begin.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u><i>~~~Jen's POV</i></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXePiKQOI-eF6broSEgHiBHsQgz92v_U6Lu9Z6ySy-fKxmqyl5qU3s-crhrSb5JiB1T80AEXu7Qcg7rtAm9m8KhUTqreaA1klTs-HTYh34hFyraQyNIxuUev5_MJj5gg70Yo2bhDisf_Q/s1600/Screenshot-2+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXePiKQOI-eF6broSEgHiBHsQgz92v_U6Lu9Z6ySy-fKxmqyl5qU3s-crhrSb5JiB1T80AEXu7Qcg7rtAm9m8KhUTqreaA1klTs-HTYh34hFyraQyNIxuUev5_MJj5gg70Yo2bhDisf_Q/s400/Screenshot-2+%25284%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqe7spjMZFe7ZipMu02e4hbfDGzNuDMDYXp6_WEzb-TRngS6-K1Ncb8txI5a91B-xago8H-GhxeM2Icy1BOD1kgNMfivitIdxOgJaZ7omLIFTZ3e034PrrG4c9B8TNMVvAThVycVdrEUp_/s1600/Screenshot-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqe7spjMZFe7ZipMu02e4hbfDGzNuDMDYXp6_WEzb-TRngS6-K1Ncb8txI5a91B-xago8H-GhxeM2Icy1BOD1kgNMfivitIdxOgJaZ7omLIFTZ3e034PrrG4c9B8TNMVvAThVycVdrEUp_/s400/Screenshot-11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Flower Girls were absolutely adorable, even though they were out of flowers like halfway up the aisle. Ah, you gotta love them. After throwing out the flowers, they retreated to my mom-or my birth mom, that is.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmXqc-LRGXoE4154FP7DA0wf-5EM_CutlD5ZI8z6P2gbyENH6S9P3wUANuFbwbJumMiBodtbUaPAd1iMXreLgabdKufwnc_Cm6bM-2K6MQXw-i2Pv2lXQDrOzzWWhKviK4VN7OSLI5KkLO/s1600/Screenshot-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmXqc-LRGXoE4154FP7DA0wf-5EM_CutlD5ZI8z6P2gbyENH6S9P3wUANuFbwbJumMiBodtbUaPAd1iMXreLgabdKufwnc_Cm6bM-2K6MQXw-i2Pv2lXQDrOzzWWhKviK4VN7OSLI5KkLO/s400/Screenshot-13.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrOGjQFvyNf6_riCDPvClZDo9hcNS4BrTHYq2ITMjpqFPl_eRAt6I4V__bINnFuj2OXCa0YhTAeaQB0y6UtQyLwhaTGrZSD_x9KYA8EV2SBFFpVDRwxaiIkosogy70TB0AM5tjuB4JTTF/s1600/Screenshot-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrOGjQFvyNf6_riCDPvClZDo9hcNS4BrTHYq2ITMjpqFPl_eRAt6I4V__bINnFuj2OXCa0YhTAeaQB0y6UtQyLwhaTGrZSD_x9KYA8EV2SBFFpVDRwxaiIkosogy70TB0AM5tjuB4JTTF/s400/Screenshot-14.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Since I apparently didn't have a father anymore, Ryan's father volunteered to walk me down the aisle. It felt a little odd having everyone's eyes watching me, as I wasn't used to the attention, but I felt so graceful and beautiful in that moment that it didn't even matter. Plus I felt better knowing I wasn't there for them, I was there for Ryan, and he had his eyes stuck on me too. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpg4YK3M8bmVT9FLufbffAqWAaJfn6-ScqNoGCTgJW9q56M-oPWFTYBNQ3fbPhp6aCSLyOERiCU-JKOC7hdSll22isADQeUklDB3i8hM19rRljDFjP4vMUMluSxZg71kOBC99ARp0Volz/s1600/Screenshot-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpg4YK3M8bmVT9FLufbffAqWAaJfn6-ScqNoGCTgJW9q56M-oPWFTYBNQ3fbPhp6aCSLyOERiCU-JKOC7hdSll22isADQeUklDB3i8hM19rRljDFjP4vMUMluSxZg71kOBC99ARp0Volz/s400/Screenshot-21.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtTbAxVa7-qGjNJ-SL6iCnUBgpxR32V4VuYsO58ABTVSCVE38moDsBgjvp9RUsP7n4xLLpE5le5VLUtEEZ6hB3FRn0qe3ui7iam3V56Sm-sQWLDT4h4aIkuSh8uPWjQSGtj_4LOz3XAwI/s1600/Screenshot-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtTbAxVa7-qGjNJ-SL6iCnUBgpxR32V4VuYsO58ABTVSCVE38moDsBgjvp9RUsP7n4xLLpE5le5VLUtEEZ6hB3FRn0qe3ui7iam3V56Sm-sQWLDT4h4aIkuSh8uPWjQSGtj_4LOz3XAwI/s400/Screenshot-22.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGohXQqVXbSxS1zYhys7bnnYmv6QCHaoJIQl9Q03iCuSftvwKN3cMZQwQcnlEn8wA2XO6G-ELiHONjlZMRsjQBFh6Fmqoy6uoythX3UJys8-F5Cac-sqW0WfVR9cxxTpjrixnOF2FFAJ-A/s1600/Screenshot-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGohXQqVXbSxS1zYhys7bnnYmv6QCHaoJIQl9Q03iCuSftvwKN3cMZQwQcnlEn8wA2XO6G-ELiHONjlZMRsjQBFh6Fmqoy6uoythX3UJys8-F5Cac-sqW0WfVR9cxxTpjrixnOF2FFAJ-A/s400/Screenshot-23.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqW1dBcPK5qk6ETD8XRlrLZkrxS7AtHt0OnzzmFOyvr52bzDoiH34k1DFuf6DU5-vk2kAyV0t6sCNPzdFv75qonGy080DWuca1UIvgX5Z2xMCK7P86oYoaCXgSH2Jt46Ddhrehr7-OMyq/s1600/Screenshot-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqW1dBcPK5qk6ETD8XRlrLZkrxS7AtHt0OnzzmFOyvr52bzDoiH34k1DFuf6DU5-vk2kAyV0t6sCNPzdFv75qonGy080DWuca1UIvgX5Z2xMCK7P86oYoaCXgSH2Jt46Ddhrehr7-OMyq/s400/Screenshot-24.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZ5da-_DmLYqRxtdjcA8siFIHNjRHMEuQvKwEt7a_qWG1mAau_m_iteu5_Oj-DUgKLRETHsxJbxAPjfvw0GncRUCbiJrv_sLRw5c15GCj1QhXPrxK29z9fRyUilLSpCQNrnsiYRsc8utL/s1600/Screenshot-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZ5da-_DmLYqRxtdjcA8siFIHNjRHMEuQvKwEt7a_qWG1mAau_m_iteu5_Oj-DUgKLRETHsxJbxAPjfvw0GncRUCbiJrv_sLRw5c15GCj1QhXPrxK29z9fRyUilLSpCQNrnsiYRsc8utL/s400/Screenshot-15.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Ryan's parents </i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1BXU7j2eiR9swVfcPSSz-w-sAUybApHkqdJzFGtRZulszG7QXeww9gg1nl2e8u68YjUaSeJP6_-rmjYBjUTH5z26fvVnpYSMsG2yflFtslB4xFDzR5eaYmCvxusxIX_JqFMoDQUHxf_y/s1600/Screenshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1BXU7j2eiR9swVfcPSSz-w-sAUybApHkqdJzFGtRZulszG7QXeww9gg1nl2e8u68YjUaSeJP6_-rmjYBjUTH5z26fvVnpYSMsG2yflFtslB4xFDzR5eaYmCvxusxIX_JqFMoDQUHxf_y/s400/Screenshot.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3fVpeCe3wvsCqjRptRDn-_PVznunhpRooLHQxhVoW0m4LW5QITJU3sU7Q0GKBTfof9wyczFNpXWgIPEONT7Ig6LAgmG4moEDv3JRxtsOKAn_dr7sa3r2T1r-AlFgkuJ8Anw_tdbCMQEe/s1600/Screenshot-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3fVpeCe3wvsCqjRptRDn-_PVznunhpRooLHQxhVoW0m4LW5QITJU3sU7Q0GKBTfof9wyczFNpXWgIPEONT7Ig6LAgmG4moEDv3JRxtsOKAn_dr7sa3r2T1r-AlFgkuJ8Anw_tdbCMQEe/s400/Screenshot-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiz7D7WMlRYXa6GEySYbsfkO3vQbEMwdg6RQ95U7uZ7VK0LcUZ9Y5-_wQ8wtO8aE7FLc3pcrJa48n9t6EiwdrlunVyJO_u1p6f8uhcfrWrWNGHVZ-hmeogZxY4idLXftprBs__lRDz3N4/s1600/Screenshot-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiz7D7WMlRYXa6GEySYbsfkO3vQbEMwdg6RQ95U7uZ7VK0LcUZ9Y5-_wQ8wtO8aE7FLc3pcrJa48n9t6EiwdrlunVyJO_u1p6f8uhcfrWrWNGHVZ-hmeogZxY4idLXftprBs__lRDz3N4/s400/Screenshot-16.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYc3H_ysbm0G-jofHdLvwkR6fVHrzxd0CCq8xeYepX8lm_gDgNkx1DPAYNytqvJ9z6Q7owpsuRzbMlsmhKxDaQkqu41taQT2zeyr3QFOHqmMjZGkjBL3e_0w57VMK6t4zmDwnbm-LDlBQb/s1600/Screenshot-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYc3H_ysbm0G-jofHdLvwkR6fVHrzxd0CCq8xeYepX8lm_gDgNkx1DPAYNytqvJ9z6Q7owpsuRzbMlsmhKxDaQkqu41taQT2zeyr3QFOHqmMjZGkjBL3e_0w57VMK6t4zmDwnbm-LDlBQb/s400/Screenshot-17.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Charmain, me, Trisha, and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000910364832">Daisy</a> </i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJnC-FCftTk8bkVWcVL7kpea8lKZb9XneNmfx_acKWoFDUYcXLNyUfeP0NqM3EQzvQLJP0pkXi03D1M718fW8D34qHBU0xLK6PGN_l20KN2qhMqfWj92tROGWfaCQa20YPfgc755nbxl5/s1600/Screenshot-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJnC-FCftTk8bkVWcVL7kpea8lKZb9XneNmfx_acKWoFDUYcXLNyUfeP0NqM3EQzvQLJP0pkXi03D1M718fW8D34qHBU0xLK6PGN_l20KN2qhMqfWj92tROGWfaCQa20YPfgc755nbxl5/s400/Screenshot-18.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<i>Me and my Bridesmaids.</i> They look so beautiful in their dresses. If I had not been the one in white, I would have thought they were the ones getting married! Though my sister was my Maid Of Honor, obviously, because she's my sister. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMHZET2gJPXuu-j2A3ZfeaeVEkM9mq2_gXAs3b55OmqOnFtx0SuNHplSRAyBmd_8ylZk6K3A1RCMWYkF3XkSaSwk8QrfGsYwxtWU23UgtLW_fRoJ90aY0FmrNR9NnaDzhhptxVUlpxwiQs/s1600/Screenshot-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMHZET2gJPXuu-j2A3ZfeaeVEkM9mq2_gXAs3b55OmqOnFtx0SuNHplSRAyBmd_8ylZk6K3A1RCMWYkF3XkSaSwk8QrfGsYwxtWU23UgtLW_fRoJ90aY0FmrNR9NnaDzhhptxVUlpxwiQs/s400/Screenshot-19.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Me and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100003447897374">Charmain </a></i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3DZOZyVQD5knWDvh61dZz__-Ff9J-xoRaTF6PyOVzXMhXRYGjkQkfT1mPHQDfng6VDmlEEyXipRm6YkInUnUdjBeNsrr6wkloy7gRN17DyW932rbV1903YJLAR7v8eZg0ypRchCRPAd_L/s1600/Screenshot-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3DZOZyVQD5knWDvh61dZz__-Ff9J-xoRaTF6PyOVzXMhXRYGjkQkfT1mPHQDfng6VDmlEEyXipRm6YkInUnUdjBeNsrr6wkloy7gRN17DyW932rbV1903YJLAR7v8eZg0ypRchCRPAd_L/s400/Screenshot-20.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-70673268641220598662012-03-17T23:46:00.001-07:002012-03-18T10:45:50.028-07:00Generation 1-Chapter 7<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4BjQteUr3FL5LLz5d4RI5LQhT3EFf6A3moTlQsYu2bgAjgsu1w4KaPcPbM3orauB5MABDk48kBw_eJXFOidSvCJMqmuMg-wAH8QoBHL1uXQNyE6K1yqod1xnqkLaqqRlBtZVb9yGTwDJb/s1600/Screenshot-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4BjQteUr3FL5LLz5d4RI5LQhT3EFf6A3moTlQsYu2bgAjgsu1w4KaPcPbM3orauB5MABDk48kBw_eJXFOidSvCJMqmuMg-wAH8QoBHL1uXQNyE6K1yqod1xnqkLaqqRlBtZVb9yGTwDJb/s400/Screenshot-16.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<b>"Jules!"</b> I called Julie out. She looked up at me and smiled. <b>"You know what today is?"</b><br />
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<b>"No, Mommeyy,"</b> she said. I smiled back at her and gently picked her up.<br />
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<b>"It's your birthday!"</b> I told her, tickling her. <b>"You're one today!"</b><br />
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<b>"That goes for you too, Baby Girl,"</b> Ryan told Layla.<br />
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<b>"Are you girls ready?"</b> I asked them.<br />
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<b>"YES!"</b> they giggled.<br />
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<b>"If you're not ready, the cookie monster will get you!"</b> Ryan said, laughing.<br />
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<b>"No, Daddey. The tooktie-monster eats tookties!"</b> Layla told him.<br />
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As it seems, Julie inherited Ryan's hair color, and facial structure. But she also got my eyes. It's so unreal as to how much she looks like the both of us, nearly the perfect blend.<br />
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Layla, on the other hand, had black hair. I honestly have no clue as to where that came from, but I'm guessing it was from a past relative. She inherited Ryan's lovely eye color and more of a mix of our facial structures. <br />
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We gave them strawberry cake-flavored baby food, since they cannot yet eat solid foods. But they seemed to be enjoying it. What they didn't know was, they'd have to be eating baby food more often. It was time for the bottles to go! ....I might hold off a little while on taking the pacifiers away from them though. They get cranky when they're tired.<br />
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<b>"So what does the most beautiful woman in the world think we should do today?"</b> Ryan asked. I kissed him.<br />
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<b>"Oh, I don't know. What does the most handsome man in the world think we should do today?"</b> I countered.<br />
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<b>"I think. . . ."</b> he broke off.<br />
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<b>"I think,"</b> he started again, <b>"marry me?"</b><br />
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<b>"Oh my. Ry ar-"</b><br />
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<b>"Jen, I've had nearly two years to think about this. I want nothing more than this. We've been with each other through thick and thin, and I know I love you. You're the perfect mother, a perfect girlfriend, a perfect roommate, the perfect intelligent woman and I'm pretty darn sure you'll be the perfect wife. Marry me?" </b>I smiled.<br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>"Of course I'll marry you, Ry," </b>I told him.<br />
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<b>"Just for you,"</b> he said. <br />
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<b>"Oh my! I love it!"</b> I exclaimed. He got to his feet.<br />
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<b>"Hug me?" </b>he asked.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUQHIA8P3JGPgNWNnHFYsREJbs0kpE3pgwmPTi3wxX20AncwNL5QbVYr0chCiVLGeHgY3WvicCI3_24odYf-D6qHsJqLGX1WUKs4ffl-xDVlaceHOJef4VzqwPSxHTKwTE1E-dwv-I-hG/s1600/Screenshot-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUQHIA8P3JGPgNWNnHFYsREJbs0kpE3pgwmPTi3wxX20AncwNL5QbVYr0chCiVLGeHgY3WvicCI3_24odYf-D6qHsJqLGX1WUKs4ffl-xDVlaceHOJef4VzqwPSxHTKwTE1E-dwv-I-hG/s400/Screenshot-28.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Xu-VAkJjxdGj2H7TUj9hifdKrxjD3KS5V2YIokEyxu-xLeweZx70mmHr4ONViF6inBNP8oIijnnL_Lt_0uVe50zkZJNNtG3hA0if7qgjGUubUcWBkFwc_DiSAhtfv4hF2tvyYiWH1lCq/s1600/Screenshot-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Xu-VAkJjxdGj2H7TUj9hifdKrxjD3KS5V2YIokEyxu-xLeweZx70mmHr4ONViF6inBNP8oIijnnL_Lt_0uVe50zkZJNNtG3hA0if7qgjGUubUcWBkFwc_DiSAhtfv4hF2tvyYiWH1lCq/s400/Screenshot-23.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<b>"I love you,"</b> I said.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCN-BGvWthfnA9z46bOXGJBI4cs86TBhgD4ZAQaimZahuCobGGZB_1WJO0Y7IqowardwvyC4PjTXIJ0G_qOltS16dZ0dG_qDJnlCwIZPNxWxaNkHwGRSJulYrHrRF4InY3gtlTJn149RW/s1600/Screenshot-33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCN-BGvWthfnA9z46bOXGJBI4cs86TBhgD4ZAQaimZahuCobGGZB_1WJO0Y7IqowardwvyC4PjTXIJ0G_qOltS16dZ0dG_qDJnlCwIZPNxWxaNkHwGRSJulYrHrRF4InY3gtlTJn149RW/s400/Screenshot-33.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<b>"Very good!"</b> I complimented Layla as she started taking her first steps. <br />
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<b>"You'll be walking in no time, Jules,"</b> Ryan told our daughter.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsJHENFbEwkcVfPSZp_76GFxA8ty8KiIs4V1z-aQBHykQA-nD5FSi_YI_Fl7qwyGxa7_B-S2_CCFoeW12OUDnboUZisWRdTdOXPsfa1kZGmv8_qkgYnMs5QGgcQeFzr_D6nh5q4foL3dj/s1600/Screenshot-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsJHENFbEwkcVfPSZp_76GFxA8ty8KiIs4V1z-aQBHykQA-nD5FSi_YI_Fl7qwyGxa7_B-S2_CCFoeW12OUDnboUZisWRdTdOXPsfa1kZGmv8_qkgYnMs5QGgcQeFzr_D6nh5q4foL3dj/s400/Screenshot-34.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Aren't they so adorable?"</b> I asked Ryan from the doorway to the twins' room.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"That they are, love, that they are."</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"It's hard to think that just a year ago I gave birth to them, and Layla was so sick.."</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Yes, but she recovered,"</b> he said. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"It was a bumpy road, but <i>eventually</i> she recovered."</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"I'm just the happiest man alive. I have a perfect fiancee, and perfect kids,"</b> Ryan cooed. I laughed as the twins started crying.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"Sounds like it's bed time!" </b>I said, scooping up Julie in my arms.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-72001975673991481992012-03-17T17:02:00.001-07:002012-03-17T17:04:33.175-07:00Generation 1-Chapter 6<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh552FO2x_rF8EcOllwX34dSttSpRNiA5cmXVma-uEy7tjqBIUOPmP3Zm8DGWBfb_72mwDoaUZzyli85VwNCH6b2cYwXavrV2Vd3CeBjEssKWt1QUEm7o1m_V96X2XVuXrRL0UD9woUPIyU/s1600/Screenshot-55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh552FO2x_rF8EcOllwX34dSttSpRNiA5cmXVma-uEy7tjqBIUOPmP3Zm8DGWBfb_72mwDoaUZzyli85VwNCH6b2cYwXavrV2Vd3CeBjEssKWt1QUEm7o1m_V96X2XVuXrRL0UD9woUPIyU/s400/Screenshot-55.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I was only seven months pregnant when I felt it. A pain like no other, ripping through my body in waves.<br />
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I stared down at my body as something trickled down my pant legs. I found it hard to focus on anything, but I knew this wasn't supposed to happen nonetheless. <b>"Ry!"</b> I yelled. My water had broken. I was going into labor.<br />
<br />
<b>"What?"</b> I heard him ask.<br />
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<b>"HURRY, D***IT!"</b> I screamed back as my face contorted in pain.<br />
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<b>"Oh sh**!"</b> he exclaimed as he walked in the room and realized what was happening.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_cGkxJbn-2D-xddJa3ZgE79g1KJ21ixi4DgmuzUcyvTAKbHinIbYXe2SmCaXF58DUP4N4j-iR-UNtZdZM_EyXT50R-R2FK9HOktPSOecy2VCu9t_6JTFp1xCC_MWnhVrB1ykMDVXW96s/s1600/Screenshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_cGkxJbn-2D-xddJa3ZgE79g1KJ21ixi4DgmuzUcyvTAKbHinIbYXe2SmCaXF58DUP4N4j-iR-UNtZdZM_EyXT50R-R2FK9HOktPSOecy2VCu9t_6JTFp1xCC_MWnhVrB1ykMDVXW96s/s400/Screenshot.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<b>"You'll be okay, Jen,"</b> Ryan kept saying as they wheeled me away. <b>"Our baby will be okay. I love you!" </b>I heard his words clearly, although I didn't believe all of them. I knew he loved me, however. It was hard to think that about a year ago we met, and now we were having children.<br />
<br />
I looked him hard in the eye before they took me from him and said, <b>"I love you too, Ry."</b><br />
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<b>"Nurse, is the baby going to be okay? Is Jen going to be okay?"</b> Ryan asked her.<br />
<br />
<b>"I cannot guarantee anything, sir. In the state Ms. Cliffe is in, we cannot postpone the labor. Unfortunately this also means that the baby will be premature, and there are some consequences to that,"</b> she said.<br />
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I grunted in pain as I watched them talking in hushed tones. I kept hearing the word 'C-section,' which I didn't like too well. I bit my lip as another contraction came through.<br />
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<b>"Dont worry, Ms. Cliffe,"</b> one of the nurses said to me as the procedure began.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">~~~~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1BY3qaTkGindZ2wiP-LFCW5mPHmtr-3SQrq2jYv5PATZaIqzdZJWvooFjZVLBvrEbO1WEgKNXWc8WxBzT_WguxoDYfdohq1F-Mymt9ZQ5rbqmpNVPly182eHnrtzwIjGfLPYBdtFbkkUu/s1600/Screenshot-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1BY3qaTkGindZ2wiP-LFCW5mPHmtr-3SQrq2jYv5PATZaIqzdZJWvooFjZVLBvrEbO1WEgKNXWc8WxBzT_WguxoDYfdohq1F-Mymt9ZQ5rbqmpNVPly182eHnrtzwIjGfLPYBdtFbkkUu/s400/Screenshot-7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"So how do you feel?"</b> Ryan asked me. I sighed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"Sore,"</b> I replied simply. <b>"Have you heard any word?"</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"The nurse says Julie is doing fine. Great, actually,"</b> he said smiling. My eyes widened.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"What about Layla?"</b> I asked him.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"Layla?"</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"Oh my. They didn't tell you, did they?"</b> I asked, my voice cracking.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"No?"</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"Ry... We had twins. Twin girls. Julie and Layla."</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK-AGWy6Jdz1aTirgp5Qeb1cbZOwnblG1s05GJbt3z9Kn1eWxxJzfy4-GBEO3UPUDxVhTi5gZdYzpyY-f2Xsv_wJAr1XrNPhFoUqJhi3FvAOEMgLmd_gx7mPqM7qNtJwISi2fhaCSKscrK/s1600/Screenshot-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK-AGWy6Jdz1aTirgp5Qeb1cbZOwnblG1s05GJbt3z9Kn1eWxxJzfy4-GBEO3UPUDxVhTi5gZdYzpyY-f2Xsv_wJAr1XrNPhFoUqJhi3FvAOEMgLmd_gx7mPqM7qNtJwISi2fhaCSKscrK/s400/Screenshot-9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Soon after that the nurse rushed in with little Julie in her arms. <b>"Look who wants to see you!"</b> the nurse exclaimed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hldZKAGvvY5PwrxGGQ8nliOp2f_lLBHjW3S4BaIlWM9UhrqP0CgCfFRE-TqNnDFUoELbSufWPbTJDz3iJ3fVpvEkl6nndG0O7Qyk-lynPOooEs4cfIDfu2bLBEHrrbgKi4iWXJqPUg-W/s1600/Screenshot-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hldZKAGvvY5PwrxGGQ8nliOp2f_lLBHjW3S4BaIlWM9UhrqP0CgCfFRE-TqNnDFUoELbSufWPbTJDz3iJ3fVpvEkl6nndG0O7Qyk-lynPOooEs4cfIDfu2bLBEHrrbgKi4iWXJqPUg-W/s400/Screenshot-10.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ryan scooched onto the small hospital bed with me, and Julie in between us. I felt a little more comfortable now, knowing Julie was fine and doing good. But I still worried about her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><u><i>Ryan's POV</i></u></div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2tKKNgw6nvr9KfELoeqZ1ZbOVZLXCrP6wY4MMZDVQSsKHtktSYjBBg3Qqtx9-YsBDFy6IJNs5cS1GE8JX-ZydtxlwhL9n_TeMf713qqw_INPKVtGszK-LNLO2r7EauaeCWxv2PZGSRNi2/s1600/Screenshot-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2tKKNgw6nvr9KfELoeqZ1ZbOVZLXCrP6wY4MMZDVQSsKHtktSYjBBg3Qqtx9-YsBDFy6IJNs5cS1GE8JX-ZydtxlwhL9n_TeMf713qqw_INPKVtGszK-LNLO2r7EauaeCWxv2PZGSRNi2/s400/Screenshot-11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"How is she doing?"</b> I asked one of the nurses that was entering the unit. The nurse's expression turned grim.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"Sir.. She was blue when born. Her body has yet to get used to the oxygen that it has been exposed to so suddenly. She's thin, though that's because the other baby was getting most of the nutrients. We have to keep her on a ventilator indefinitely, until we see an improvement."</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"When can I see her?"</b> I asked.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"I don't know,"</b> the nurse said before walking away.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1EWnrz_EsmPmo7Hz-AyPUmHP3SNLhBdPS2SG3uG5H8UfwCJSV1Jh4s8Uhhi2Mykb0LFnmsNoSJsd24CdtYygEVMCpkiz5IqOdaG3e71wqzGiKZs1djgCqQlOt9C1GOUrdPQ0z5qvKvtx/s1600/Screenshot-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1EWnrz_EsmPmo7Hz-AyPUmHP3SNLhBdPS2SG3uG5H8UfwCJSV1Jh4s8Uhhi2Mykb0LFnmsNoSJsd24CdtYygEVMCpkiz5IqOdaG3e71wqzGiKZs1djgCqQlOt9C1GOUrdPQ0z5qvKvtx/s400/Screenshot-13.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"Don't worry Layla,"</b> I told her, though I knew she couldn't possibly hear me, <b>"we'll all be a big happy family soon."</b></div>Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-533530306251545942012-03-16T19:57:00.004-07:002012-03-16T19:59:22.864-07:00Generation 1-Chapter 5<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIF15DqkZ1Xo5TFYNKeKIGhYtkZrUq50FOvQkBFoFr68HxxQIpZlopADS0aQduTwOJgUf9INk8SVhqb6BDMuxagG4_9UquogxLorS4j8t4YeqNRTF4_8PftE58dCH-6CJ7aRliPGJx5V9/s1600/Screenshot-33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIF15DqkZ1Xo5TFYNKeKIGhYtkZrUq50FOvQkBFoFr68HxxQIpZlopADS0aQduTwOJgUf9INk8SVhqb6BDMuxagG4_9UquogxLorS4j8t4YeqNRTF4_8PftE58dCH-6CJ7aRliPGJx5V9/s400/Screenshot-33.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The weeks went by, and I started to see a change in myself. I was more moody than normal; but could you blame me? I nearly always stayed sick, though it was mainly in the mornings. Ryan said it was because I wasn't eating enough, and so he kept stuffing me with loads of food and expected me to eat every last bit. Under normal circumstances, I would enjoy having a man pamper and cook for me, but this wasn't normal.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg35IkLvw3JvHWfRKYBnvvyuI4J3AguiBWCmwr4k-cDGY8WODC5EQZ_IFBk34ZpZ7rcIxEFeJWxnr2nVxdZHcB35ViilZlelArMyYtcaiZMPQpB-ZcBunFQXUNAqy2pZYzVdDcUHi4zxya/s1600/Screenshot-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg35IkLvw3JvHWfRKYBnvvyuI4J3AguiBWCmwr4k-cDGY8WODC5EQZ_IFBk34ZpZ7rcIxEFeJWxnr2nVxdZHcB35ViilZlelArMyYtcaiZMPQpB-ZcBunFQXUNAqy2pZYzVdDcUHi4zxya/s400/Screenshot-26.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
With all the junk he kept feeding me, I could still hardly keep anything down. Although I was hungry a lot, my body seemed as though it got too much. Which I would say it would, considering. I started putting on weight! Of course that made me even crankier, because I didn't want to get any bigger around my waist that I already hat. When I told Ryan this, he simply responded, "More to love!" But <i>I</i> didn't love it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDc4t9xjzFPHKKFtNtoziKeIKjkLqyvANjisVpqdbf9jLC5ahrPTt1q9Qs6gFH_oW3K52UtFZcsVh-NZa1YHSAT73G734nvSNf03lcX3Luv6X0_0l32m3JkcmGbNgPjqAj1FQtP3djiZg/s1600/Screenshot-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDc4t9xjzFPHKKFtNtoziKeIKjkLqyvANjisVpqdbf9jLC5ahrPTt1q9Qs6gFH_oW3K52UtFZcsVh-NZa1YHSAT73G734nvSNf03lcX3Luv6X0_0l32m3JkcmGbNgPjqAj1FQtP3djiZg/s400/Screenshot-34.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<b>"How does my lady feel today?"</b> Ryan asked as he walked in the door from work.<br />
<br />
<b>"Like usual,"</b> I mumbled as I leaned into this kiss.<br />
<br />
<b>"Hmm. Sounds like I'm not giving you enough to eat!"</b> he said and smiled. I frowned. <b>"What?"</b><br />
<br />
<b>"You're giving me enough to eat. Actually, if you haven't noticed, I'm getting fatter!"</b> I exclaimed. He shrugged.<br />
<br />
<b>"You're not getting fatter, dear. You're just perfect."</b> <i>Cheesy. </i>I rolled my eyes at him.<br />
<br />
<b>"Well, since you're not hungry right now, do you mind if I head off to bed? It was a busy day at work."</b> I ushered him away. Ever since I became sick, he's been staying at my house. He pretty much lived there now, except most of his things were still at his house.<br />
<br />
But anyways, now that he was gone to bed, I could have more time to do something I'd been thinking about. .<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Sw0uKmPPqLLKZIhkajhFeDX8JbmwWIEQ6FHoL527UlLaHsjNeX6hyphenhypheng15Rw_JtRs_egDpkui1FoYtBVerOq_9mdNskTc9p6j7x2GN36ESr0lcwlgsZbNl7jD-hUxahi_2bbn-Alx5WsAX/s1600/Screenshot-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Sw0uKmPPqLLKZIhkajhFeDX8JbmwWIEQ6FHoL527UlLaHsjNeX6hyphenhypheng15Rw_JtRs_egDpkui1FoYtBVerOq_9mdNskTc9p6j7x2GN36ESr0lcwlgsZbNl7jD-hUxahi_2bbn-Alx5WsAX/s400/Screenshot-35.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MEJEqP4L7tnIrhmWX_zcKRF5wHXvctDONyomlbveQ6RL00SnMpxedrA6poumG9aP209Q-FryPj4xGzYkY2fYYwRfy0Ma6sTFy2TSxAHxIh8RLNJohWsGoP9qugnPf_zOE4hu7DGFDezI/s1600/Screenshot-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MEJEqP4L7tnIrhmWX_zcKRF5wHXvctDONyomlbveQ6RL00SnMpxedrA6poumG9aP209Q-FryPj4xGzYkY2fYYwRfy0Ma6sTFy2TSxAHxIh8RLNJohWsGoP9qugnPf_zOE4hu7DGFDezI/s400/Screenshot-36.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I stood outside the hospital. I had to make a decision; should I go, or should I not? It was especially hard because Ryan had no earthly ideal that I would be making this visit, and I wasn't even sure if I had the funds to afford it. But surely I could make an exception. Besides, what if I had some rare illness or something? I had to know for certain.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmPyvFFSZirk39KHA5y5_28V2AGcudcYSm-4sqAdYkv6Yzwv4EUxKph6Pl9Em7OZ_I9GO-xQ1TZ2ImdfGhakL9EApGJ85J0d5NxGYhix_EhrqrAYFOCXA0oRpGglvl3-qSUoLvElyCfKQf/s1600/Screenshot-37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmPyvFFSZirk39KHA5y5_28V2AGcudcYSm-4sqAdYkv6Yzwv4EUxKph6Pl9Em7OZ_I9GO-xQ1TZ2ImdfGhakL9EApGJ85J0d5NxGYhix_EhrqrAYFOCXA0oRpGglvl3-qSUoLvElyCfKQf/s400/Screenshot-37.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<b>"So, Ms. Cliffe, would you mind telling me why you're visiting?"</b> the female doctor asked. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPEjpGf9tSL8noZRcQN36VkwDwxmaNZyrgsH1Q0AL3ExCCoK4pzVzqqT2t_wmsk5QdD2a2PDgzqtxsvGBD2MCxbCsqNVW3UrqQYnLU5QBy1hM0lyKvyjnl8-6KaT-6H5nQ0gXv2GVC7vU6/s1600/Screenshot-38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPEjpGf9tSL8noZRcQN36VkwDwxmaNZyrgsH1Q0AL3ExCCoK4pzVzqqT2t_wmsk5QdD2a2PDgzqtxsvGBD2MCxbCsqNVW3UrqQYnLU5QBy1hM0lyKvyjnl8-6KaT-6H5nQ0gXv2GVC7vU6/s400/Screenshot-38.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2Psm3Bmqpcdn9xY24nLP0hRvtFqwMpxX5b17DLUyfzxCDXSe_giEpqZm3bYm24eof6OGhmiG5Rmo7Orokn4BDxqApStRKnl_vpgVosWZw2RAhy3Gu8XfCQadR-wrzYe6BphIsAbZ2AGf/s1600/Screenshot-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2Psm3Bmqpcdn9xY24nLP0hRvtFqwMpxX5b17DLUyfzxCDXSe_giEpqZm3bYm24eof6OGhmiG5Rmo7Orokn4BDxqApStRKnl_vpgVosWZw2RAhy3Gu8XfCQadR-wrzYe6BphIsAbZ2AGf/s400/Screenshot-39.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<b>"Well, Doc,"</b> I said, <b>"I've been sick for the past few months. Moodiness, fatigue, cramps, extreme hunger--but not really able to keep anything in my system. ."</b> The doctor began scribbling something down in her notes, which I assumed would be my symptoms.<br />
<br />
<b>"Alright, Ms. Cliffe. I have a suspicion to what it might be, but we're going to run some tests. Sit tight, the nurse will be right with you,"</b> she informed me before leaving. I sighed. At least it might not be so major as I thought.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPa0m9X2WdJtgseP0GfJPqhQfW7E_4FGcr_QUHM8tl7TB_2gwmdk_LCAcwT6uhmBxlmjeaSKFqiCgzH94Fj9Or6bTNy4xVDubS1rt9YI6YOwZOpVA6GKFxMf2ytmODOswx5n4OofTEIeAg/s1600/Screenshot-41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPa0m9X2WdJtgseP0GfJPqhQfW7E_4FGcr_QUHM8tl7TB_2gwmdk_LCAcwT6uhmBxlmjeaSKFqiCgzH94Fj9Or6bTNy4xVDubS1rt9YI6YOwZOpVA6GKFxMf2ytmODOswx5n4OofTEIeAg/s400/Screenshot-41.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The nurse that came led me to a small room, or a corner rather, where I was told the doctor would come to see me with the results of the tests. I was anxious in knowing what was wrong with me. The wait seemed to last forever, but it really wasn't. The wait in the waiting room was longer than this one. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5EdfdZn8Uzd5vGOHaujrKixSIUl-rgXScaCrxW_cPQfTEajxy9UgAwJeV9caKbB3THTBG8yd15x-yIATnx5uLNWDJ1Br8MnZdA5IF03g4Zt0MqNyX7rlzV0AGVc9TLoLh1D1RKYTxePJp/s1600/Screenshot-42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5EdfdZn8Uzd5vGOHaujrKixSIUl-rgXScaCrxW_cPQfTEajxy9UgAwJeV9caKbB3THTBG8yd15x-yIATnx5uLNWDJ1Br8MnZdA5IF03g4Zt0MqNyX7rlzV0AGVc9TLoLh1D1RKYTxePJp/s400/Screenshot-42.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
A few minutes later, the woman appeared. <b>"Ms. Cliffe, when was your last period?"</b> she asked. Her question caught me off guard.<br />
<br />
<b>"Um. I don't remember. But what does my period have to do with this?"</b> I asked her.<br />
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<b>"OK. Have you acted in any sexual activity lately?"</b> she asked.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipH2Z0GjkoM_ku8tqW3ctkzcPC-eWKyg7ceV3YiAAB-iKcA_-RIGrPBxtvbm5DrqvxlHosd4Dstf7pcwyFxWjp1Otl3qVs9GE2mPHswp2KMDIW3ZP4-ZoSHCcsc7CHNesGEtjbp02dqery/s1600/Screenshot-40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipH2Z0GjkoM_ku8tqW3ctkzcPC-eWKyg7ceV3YiAAB-iKcA_-RIGrPBxtvbm5DrqvxlHosd4Dstf7pcwyFxWjp1Otl3qVs9GE2mPHswp2KMDIW3ZP4-ZoSHCcsc7CHNesGEtjbp02dqery/s400/Screenshot-40.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<b>"I... Umm.."</b> How was I supposed to know that when I didn't even know. But then again . . the shots flashed before my eyes.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">~~~~</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-IFztDFPE1KGxWald4Z9mHbh26EuH9D68ZN4cdNN3jm6V8lsr-4qDJRkVzJojmwUC0h1fdSMRMF9mm0kmRKDE4xOJPug4Ot1J0mRppFwl7JG1LmL578J_Ys0BbtGsfU4Iw9uJC2-SUCi/s1600/Screenshot-46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-IFztDFPE1KGxWald4Z9mHbh26EuH9D68ZN4cdNN3jm6V8lsr-4qDJRkVzJojmwUC0h1fdSMRMF9mm0kmRKDE4xOJPug4Ot1J0mRppFwl7JG1LmL578J_Ys0BbtGsfU4Iw9uJC2-SUCi/s400/Screenshot-46.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2CJNsLOGIFilD-ubb0XpWs_gN9c4oGA_ZpfHIAoIQsalKXpdijZD5ArjriaphrFRAFNnYJ1ZjLzPH1GbjozmzOd-fZNtFZb-Xc1gGjk2zH8Y__NKmbakv_gomKjYeiVgCFc-18YMrXgjq/s1600/Screenshot-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2CJNsLOGIFilD-ubb0XpWs_gN9c4oGA_ZpfHIAoIQsalKXpdijZD5ArjriaphrFRAFNnYJ1ZjLzPH1GbjozmzOd-fZNtFZb-Xc1gGjk2zH8Y__NKmbakv_gomKjYeiVgCFc-18YMrXgjq/s400/Screenshot-49.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkTevRRrv5QDYKlFm1t6sjApb9VQNVdfni0zrLH9ASFeSich54MQ6Y54sL04fLHUXwFE31VW8kWjx0tBficlD6UNap6KvzdEnxYILhi7ahUruChAeffwoA-v-8DtV3BoRHbN2IzAMzzT7/s1600/Screenshot-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkTevRRrv5QDYKlFm1t6sjApb9VQNVdfni0zrLH9ASFeSich54MQ6Y54sL04fLHUXwFE31VW8kWjx0tBficlD6UNap6KvzdEnxYILhi7ahUruChAeffwoA-v-8DtV3BoRHbN2IzAMzzT7/s400/Screenshot-51.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivENtnY83JrmauRCDqX3Hp81tK-_Y0fQq7Rlam-7tzZsmCW3yaWk_0TS3s-0bkRjjm_nQlxXjmHkagzdQhkk7LFk1elE4Axae1YbVpY8A3AWxPxRa6Ytitg_5Nixn5vGZzhWYJ8iMItBIK/s1600/Screenshot-43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivENtnY83JrmauRCDqX3Hp81tK-_Y0fQq7Rlam-7tzZsmCW3yaWk_0TS3s-0bkRjjm_nQlxXjmHkagzdQhkk7LFk1elE4Axae1YbVpY8A3AWxPxRa6Ytitg_5Nixn5vGZzhWYJ8iMItBIK/s400/Screenshot-43.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"Ma'am?"</b> she called. <b>"It's a yes or no question, ma'am."</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I shrugged my shoulders. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"See, let me show you,"</b> she said, motioning me to stand. She pressed on my stomach gingerly, sending a small tremble through it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-eA7K0IWdQU1RmTFE0ykMvvjYoCugqD2ipqtpxsk0rAX16qpqb-dKQXZmpAq4nPK3AS8x_JPD4-oVP68Pt34UqJsbnArP2YpliaO95wya_xIQbmL1ShAw8mKoHKlA-WlM4T0d8HeVoqi/s1600/Screenshot-48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-eA7K0IWdQU1RmTFE0ykMvvjYoCugqD2ipqtpxsk0rAX16qpqb-dKQXZmpAq4nPK3AS8x_JPD4-oVP68Pt34UqJsbnArP2YpliaO95wya_xIQbmL1ShAw8mKoHKlA-WlM4T0d8HeVoqi/s400/Screenshot-48.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"Woah! What was that?"</b> I asked her. She looked up at me and smiled.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"Congratulations, Ms. Cliffe, you're a few months pregnant."</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLhUnp49RWz22HInqa-ziLPRJpECfKpJ5vE11pKtXS49NDiuGaBDCrnZqUUlHJXARdcRxI_Nqb69jPSr1EFjyXCKntdR6EIAPFwWMSbiiUATerFQw9AEaGv5Dy-Dj3x8F_qAng8M0TFJP/s1600/Screenshot-44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLhUnp49RWz22HInqa-ziLPRJpECfKpJ5vE11pKtXS49NDiuGaBDCrnZqUUlHJXARdcRxI_Nqb69jPSr1EFjyXCKntdR6EIAPFwWMSbiiUATerFQw9AEaGv5Dy-Dj3x8F_qAng8M0TFJP/s400/Screenshot-44.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was shocked. One side of me was overwhelmed with joy, but the other half was full of sadness--or insecurity. What would Ryan think? I contemplated telling him. There was no doubt that I couldn't hide it. Especially not now. Plus it was too late for an abortion--not that I agreed with those anyways. I would have to tell him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbzgSIAsKVSVW-3PXU6hw27p9FxSRyxhyphenhyphenvHisgLi26VakWB_8R_coSifDlLBaMKjTddG7d1Luv-la_hOEwXJkMtpK0Sh-gOHklN8bp-amVLT7_tUWGHOreRNH_fSLBLBH6WOhTGNf2Pej/s1600/Screenshot-52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbzgSIAsKVSVW-3PXU6hw27p9FxSRyxhyphenhyphenvHisgLi26VakWB_8R_coSifDlLBaMKjTddG7d1Luv-la_hOEwXJkMtpK0Sh-gOHklN8bp-amVLT7_tUWGHOreRNH_fSLBLBH6WOhTGNf2Pej/s400/Screenshot-52.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Everything was peaceful two weeks later. I snuggled up to him, basking in the comfort of being in his arms. I was afraid that this might be the last time. In all truth, I didn't want it to be. Nobody has ever made me feel as though Ryan does. . . As if I actually exist, and am worth something. But I needed to tell him. I looked up at him and he grumbled in response to my movement. I shook him slightly, causing him to look up at me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"Ry,"</b> I began. He stared at me, allowing me his undivided attention. <b>"Ry, I went to the doctor two weeks ago."</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">He sighed. <b>"And what did they say?"</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"Ry?"</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"Yes?"</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"I'm pregnant."</b> His eyes widened and he sat up.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEAZa6gbnYpY9skr50mPli0JFXZ2BiIdgwnfqMgD7Xgn5gLT-CgXa2CaylXhJ9djPmrwX4EGrApncS8-O8nMbT9J88vJxbxLEiT4oDaJ8B7v5oOEMy-aGxeiF2JWH-nAZw4uZvQxo6pjV/s1600/Screenshot-53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEAZa6gbnYpY9skr50mPli0JFXZ2BiIdgwnfqMgD7Xgn5gLT-CgXa2CaylXhJ9djPmrwX4EGrApncS8-O8nMbT9J88vJxbxLEiT4oDaJ8B7v5oOEMy-aGxeiF2JWH-nAZw4uZvQxo6pjV/s400/Screenshot-53.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">His hand rested on my lower stomach. <b>"So you're pregnant?"</b> he asked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="hasCaption"><b>"Yes. . . ,"</b>I replied slowly.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="hasCaption"><br />
<b>"Why would you <i>ever</i> hide such a thing?"</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="hasCaption"><br />
<b>"I thought-"</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="hasCaption"><br />
<b>"What? What did you think? I would leave you?" </b>he asked quickly, a little agitation in his voice. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="hasCaption"><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"> I nodded helplessly, tears slowly beginning to trickle down my face. He pulled me closer, folded in his arms. He smiled down to me. I could nearly swear my heart skipped a beat when he said, <b>"Jennie, I would NEVER leave you. And this baby? It's just another part of our love story." </b></span></span></div>Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-33655588523239570362012-03-15T20:22:00.000-07:002012-03-15T20:22:25.853-07:00Generation 1-Chapter 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XjEV587zhKZGdL6y4fqvE2zhOReO31Sl4U6Kke-DO6RMHKYEA32WI9-rK6sGpnOqI8hRJuA_cGYZxfY-o8fd69hpckopgVJiRfO09cyvbZ0IVM3cL6ZFQC6YDHWMDa3FEY3ER0_AjJ8x/s1600/Screenshot-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XjEV587zhKZGdL6y4fqvE2zhOReO31Sl4U6Kke-DO6RMHKYEA32WI9-rK6sGpnOqI8hRJuA_cGYZxfY-o8fd69hpckopgVJiRfO09cyvbZ0IVM3cL6ZFQC6YDHWMDa3FEY3ER0_AjJ8x/s400/Screenshot-25.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
After a while I heard the creak of the bed as he stirred. I turned my gaze to him, with my head still pounding. He looked at me and smiled, before looking at his surroundings. <b>"Wait--where am I?"</b> he asked.<br />
<br />
<b>"My house, apparently."</b><br />
<br />
<b>"Last I remember we were at the club, dancing-"</b> he broke off. He seemed to come to a realization. <b>"Oh my gosh! Did we-"</b> I didn't let him finish.<br />
<br />
<b>"I-I don't know!" </b>His eyes traveled down my body, seeing my nightie. I blushed and he looked the other way, shielding his eyes.<br />
<br />
<b>"Sorry! Here, let me make it up to you,"</b> he said, get up from the bed and slipping on his clothes over his boxers. He left the room. Thankfully, that left me the opportunity to get dressed myself.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7fNtTNady03E32NBjfi7wLeIVjx6SJiS1WKQX3elFaoqZ_AapKC-bgXwEDRgAa2uMuBcDDGE8f11AF4MLogDYaU33tJukIbAgJ1is0t-kvDitp6bN3uZFnkd6WxGApfAy29M5s53yemSI/s1600/Screenshot-53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7fNtTNady03E32NBjfi7wLeIVjx6SJiS1WKQX3elFaoqZ_AapKC-bgXwEDRgAa2uMuBcDDGE8f11AF4MLogDYaU33tJukIbAgJ1is0t-kvDitp6bN3uZFnkd6WxGApfAy29M5s53yemSI/s400/Screenshot-53.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDaSGTXX73g8lYI89rrWr3-KjZKtNjwlIGKXlfRH3yPABU1XciW1ozLLsqWW3uaOUxdQ-z0lJZdun_9DkjZHyUboZ-8FE2VMTpIKmLC6SX7fue0LgsU5Q_4NjROz0bg85Kzzyb03nW17y-/s1600/Screenshot-54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDaSGTXX73g8lYI89rrWr3-KjZKtNjwlIGKXlfRH3yPABU1XciW1ozLLsqWW3uaOUxdQ-z0lJZdun_9DkjZHyUboZ-8FE2VMTpIKmLC6SX7fue0LgsU5Q_4NjROz0bg85Kzzyb03nW17y-/s400/Screenshot-54.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The smell of Mac-N-Cheese floated to my bedroom, lulling me out of it. I sniffed the air. <b>"Mmm. Something smells good."</b><br />
<br />
He laughed. <b>"I should hope so, it only took me four years to make it as a Chef."</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaj6xUivBaAd-V29oNVzjN0QEB0taBsLYyfbHKuzVenZbHQfYiygduai5M7y5oBPXGa47IaB08Mw3kjTLHP3SbCR92Wt3gRFp-Q798ASo07HuK5Vv3Yh_X1ii0MtjYwhMfIoTpuiXlgpYr/s1600/Screenshot-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaj6xUivBaAd-V29oNVzjN0QEB0taBsLYyfbHKuzVenZbHQfYiygduai5M7y5oBPXGa47IaB08Mw3kjTLHP3SbCR92Wt3gRFp-Q798ASo07HuK5Vv3Yh_X1ii0MtjYwhMfIoTpuiXlgpYr/s400/Screenshot-28.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Awkwardly we sat and ate a light dinner. There were so many questions that I wanted answers for; so many things I wanted to know, but couldn't seem to find the right time or courage to ask. He might have been thinking the same, because he didn't say a word either.<b> </b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg35IkLvw3JvHWfRKYBnvvyuI4J3AguiBWCmwr4k-cDGY8WODC5EQZ_IFBk34ZpZ7rcIxEFeJWxnr2nVxdZHcB35ViilZlelArMyYtcaiZMPQpB-ZcBunFQXUNAqy2pZYzVdDcUHi4zxya/s1600/Screenshot-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg35IkLvw3JvHWfRKYBnvvyuI4J3AguiBWCmwr4k-cDGY8WODC5EQZ_IFBk34ZpZ7rcIxEFeJWxnr2nVxdZHcB35ViilZlelArMyYtcaiZMPQpB-ZcBunFQXUNAqy2pZYzVdDcUHi4zxya/s400/Screenshot-26.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoTwE03oSqsnDnC9_drUToLBBWF_aNFBq8MqXGyWoYsbZcMGF3dtErvBP5BEbXIlFQ9ytPNjlsKxmIRpFDmkJDyY_7jJ7mzdjon6Ms36GOyaJv32YuleBR6IQXhf0MjH5pSIiNNyR3WlD/s1600/Screenshot-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoTwE03oSqsnDnC9_drUToLBBWF_aNFBq8MqXGyWoYsbZcMGF3dtErvBP5BEbXIlFQ9ytPNjlsKxmIRpFDmkJDyY_7jJ7mzdjon6Ms36GOyaJv32YuleBR6IQXhf0MjH5pSIiNNyR3WlD/s400/Screenshot-27.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><b><br />
</b><br />
Unfortunately, about half an hour later my stomach didn't agree with me. Either that, or Ryan had some evil scheme to poison me. At that point, I wasn't exactly sure which one I would prefer. .<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFSQxj-hQ4Vz49xHV6rbEy1M8yqaBdnNAEHOHjEP5cLByTjs5xob0T2TnLcVGkZvO-ug34w441fxCT_z9pEhl3MnjGWGT9vFMwqcNb1ewasLyFpJka0Vu3V2y4WrhKiJdprS6KF9WS9_o/s1600/Screenshot-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFSQxj-hQ4Vz49xHV6rbEy1M8yqaBdnNAEHOHjEP5cLByTjs5xob0T2TnLcVGkZvO-ug34w441fxCT_z9pEhl3MnjGWGT9vFMwqcNb1ewasLyFpJka0Vu3V2y4WrhKiJdprS6KF9WS9_o/s400/Screenshot-29.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It got worse. He came in and sat in the floor, gazing at me chucking my stomach out. <br />
<br />
<b>"Is that really necessary?"</b> I asked between breaths. <br />
<br />
<b>"I can't just leave you here,"</b> he said. I really couldn't argue.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTI2UaxZLFqKBaoryglQ0xj1rHwvUtpf6biKt4fnxrvyReWNoxsmSpRWFuF7BRGEQwTeJ5qLY57Nrvb3lCk692ZhtMk9HWkZbkcJRks-23OKXyoSoXWtf-uDSQGcR471nBbzfevFFpKKl3/s1600/Screenshot-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTI2UaxZLFqKBaoryglQ0xj1rHwvUtpf6biKt4fnxrvyReWNoxsmSpRWFuF7BRGEQwTeJ5qLY57Nrvb3lCk692ZhtMk9HWkZbkcJRks-23OKXyoSoXWtf-uDSQGcR471nBbzfevFFpKKl3/s400/Screenshot-30.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<b>"You should go,"</b> I murmured, my eyes resting.<br />
<br />
<b>"No,"</b> he answered firmly. <br />
<br />
<b>"Why?"</b> I asked weakly. <br />
<br />
<b>"Because you're sick and running a temperature. Besides, this is all my fault. <i>I</i> cooked the food, and <i>I</i> took you to the club. It's all <i>my</i> fault, and <i>I'm</i> not going to leave you here to face it all alone."</b><br />
<br />
My eyes fluttered and I stared him deep in his mesmerizing eyes. <b>"Don't leave me."</b><br />
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Before I knew it, his lips were crashing against mine. As I pulled back (slowly, might I admit) I could see the truth in his eyes as he said, <b>"You don't have to worry about that."</b>Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-22671591686374388502012-02-15T19:05:00.000-08:002012-02-15T19:18:28.429-08:00Generation1-Chapter 3: Drunk Nights<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYsMhRsn_o6-byY9o9Il_mY7uLLUtpS3hr0dqBUjzSSpD6RojesZ7awmo0Wolwzd19_NLDBUZMIK0QzZBwbBd9kshmZmaNLzfMrv5DajPbPovbTIjKHYp5qf8yRAcp_a6S1QqZmEaKj8b/s1600/Screenshot-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYsMhRsn_o6-byY9o9Il_mY7uLLUtpS3hr0dqBUjzSSpD6RojesZ7awmo0Wolwzd19_NLDBUZMIK0QzZBwbBd9kshmZmaNLzfMrv5DajPbPovbTIjKHYp5qf8yRAcp_a6S1QqZmEaKj8b/s400/Screenshot-29.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The next day seemed to go by slowly. But it took hours for me to find <i>something</i> to wear! In my excitement to go out onto a date, I had completely forgotten how poor I truly was. I was super nervous with butterflies in my stomach.<br />
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He showed up at nightfall, around seven PM. All I had to show was an ugly dress and my only pair of sneakers. I stood back and let him look me over. He started LAUGHING! I frowned. <b>"What?"</b> I asked, not even bothering to hide my agitation. <br />
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He cleared his throat slightly and smiled. <b>"Nothing. Ready to go?"</b> he asked, offering his arm. I sighed, looping my arm through his before setting off. <br />
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Once we were on the road, which took a while (he opened the door for me, and closed it and everything!), I was full of questions. <b>"So where are we going?"</b> I asked. No answer. <b>"Why is it a formal occasion?"</b> No answer. <b>". . . . Why did you laugh?"</b> His grin told me he wasn't going to answer any of my questions, so I stopped asking.<br />
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He parked in the parking lot of a local store. I turned and gave him a questioning look, but, of course, he didn't reveal anything. He went in the store, coming out a few moments with a large bag. Unfortunately I couldn't see into the bag. He put the bag into the trunk, and we drove on.<br />
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<b>"Go put this on,"</b> he said once we were inside The Grind. His tone was sweet and caring, not judging. I took the bag from his hands and walked into the nearest bathroom. I was grateful he had thought of me as he did; the outfit I was wearing was <i>not</i> for a dance club. . . not one bit.<br />
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I got into the outfit Ryan had picked for me. He had pretty good taste for a man, I have to admit. The braid that was in my hair didn't please me with my current outfit, so I also fixed it differently using the <i>very</i> dirty bathroom mirror. <br />
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He was waiting near the entrance when I came out. He wasn't the only one watching, though. I swallowed hard as I walked out, hearing several snooty comments from the other girls, and whistles and such from the boys. My cheeks burned, and I knew I was blushing. <i>Like a boss</i>, I thought for a moment.<br />
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<b>"Now don't you look simply mind-blowing, <i>Jennie</i>,"</b> he said.<br />
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I smiled. <b>"Thank you. I would have never been able to afford a dress such as this! I'm glad you let me use it,"</b> I told him.<br />
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He grinned. <b>"Borrow? It's yours."</b><br />
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I shook my head. <b>"Oh, no, I can't take this!"</b> I exclaimed. <b> </b><br />
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<b>"Too bad!" </b><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I awoke the next morning, I was stunned. I had a throbbing headache, and I couldn't hardly recall a thing. But that wasn't the least of my worries. I woke up, and I was lying on Ryan. Not to mention I was in my pajamas, and he was in his boxers. <i>It could have been worse</i>, I thought. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>What have I done? What will he think? How far did we go?!</i> I bit my lip as I waited for Ryan to wake. </div>Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-42488126079418270102012-02-05T12:33:00.000-08:002012-02-05T12:33:20.969-08:00Generation 1-Chapter 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-pP-tEGdvVhD6PlqZvB4XArvCktyltyuwdk8EQhFrWmiijo1ij05rq8g8vJsyd41crF_5iibLF7yhyphenhyphen5G1DtEYp0RpQAZpJ9ge_7QTAbI2hJHiFOAnz_0gCAw9b4naWPOHpVtrms5rAsAZ/s1600/Screenshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-pP-tEGdvVhD6PlqZvB4XArvCktyltyuwdk8EQhFrWmiijo1ij05rq8g8vJsyd41crF_5iibLF7yhyphenhyphen5G1DtEYp0RpQAZpJ9ge_7QTAbI2hJHiFOAnz_0gCAw9b4naWPOHpVtrms5rAsAZ/s400/Screenshot.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Pulling around the curb and into my driveway I happen to see quite a familiar figure. Her distinct red hair and bright golden eyes, noticeable even from a distance. It was obviously her, my sister, who had come. She closed her car door and picked her daughter up from her car seat, before heading my way. <br />
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As I let her in, her daughter's bright blue eyes met mine. I had never seen her daughter before, seeing as my sister <i>forgot</i> to tell me she'd been pregnant. Plus, the fact that the man who got her pregnant turned her. As far as I could tell, her daughter was also a vampire. From what my sister described their new life as, fledgling vampires have yet to fall victim to the effects of the sun. This will happen when they fully transform. <br />
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My sister came in and sat on the couch, propping her daughter up on her lap. I sat beside them. "So who is this little cutie?" I asked her. To develop a relationship with my niece, I'd have to know her name. "Rachel," my sister answered. "And before you start asking questions, Jennifer, her father isn't interested," she said. I gave her a questioning look, and she continued. "After he found out about the pregnancy, he bailed. He was all for it when he was busy suckin' my blood. But after---nope." I snorted. "Boys, what's wrong with them?" I offered her a playful smile as I said it, hopefully to cheer her up. Then I looked down at Rachel. "So. . . Why would you tell me this in front of her?" I asked. She shrugged and said, "Didn't I mention that we have heightened senses than humans? She would have heard me even if I were in another part of the house." That <i>did</i> make sense. Though she looked young enough; perhaps she wouldn't remember. "Well," she said, standing and handing me the baby, "I've gotta run." I nodded and she left.<br />
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I looked down at her small figure. "Rachel, what would you like to do?" I asked. She stared at me blankly. "Right," I mumbled. She didn't know how to talk. "Oh I have an idea!" I said, moving to the floor. <br />
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I was going to teach her to talk. That is, I was going to try to teach her. Most of the time she shook her head, refusing to sound out the words and repeat them back. However, a few hours later, I was able to teach her to talk.<br />
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Just for fun I went out and bought a cheap little kiddie pool. I filled it with water and hopped in, after checking the water's temperature and putting Rachel in the pool. She seemed to really enjoy it. She splashed around for at least a good two hours before the water started to get cooler with the passing day. I also was able to relax. I might have to do this more often! Of course, it might look odd seeing a grown adult in a kiddie pool . . . without a kid. I sighed. No, that would not work.<br />
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I was draining the water when I though I heard someone behind me. I whirled around.<br />
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He casually picked Rachel out of the pool before turning to face me. "So, uh. We've been working together for a while, and I was wondering, would you like to go out on a date?" I felt heat go to my face, and I looked away. Why of all those pretty girls out there, would he pick me? Me! I felt self-conscious again, mainly because I was outside in a bathing suit with a guy asking me out on a date. "I'd love to, except," I cut off, looking down at Rachel. "How about we all go out to ice cream. Would you like that?" he asked Rachel. "Ywes!" she replied without hesitation. I smiled. I just hoped he wouldn't ask me to pay. . <br />
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As it turns out, I didn't have to pay. I did order for us though, seeing as he was holding Rachel. Rachel was the first one to get her icecream, and already had it gone by the time we even started on ours! We had a fun time though. If you could even consider it a "date," it was the best one I've been on. Actually, the only date I've been on. But that wasn't all . . . <br />
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We also went to the park! <br />
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Rachel played in the sand while we enjoyed our dinner--hotdogs, no less. But I was grateful. I was very hungry by the time. Not to mention I wasn't the one that had to cook! <br />
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After that he asked me to watch the stars with him. I was taken aback, but agreed. I leaned back, and he put his hand atop of mine. He acted like he didn't notice, but when I blushed and looked at him, he looked back with a grin. I smiled back, and he put he arm behind me and moved closer. "So I was wondering . . . Would you like to go on another date on Friday?" I nodded. "But where?" "It's a surprise. Is 7 good?" I nodded again. "Don't forget your dress!" <i>Oh gosh</i>, I thought, biting my lip. <br />
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Of course then Rachel walked over to us and sat beside me, yawning. I smiled at Ryan, and we packed up to leave.<br />
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I put Rachel to bed before going into the living room to speak with Ryan. I stared at the floor, seemingly unable to meet his gaze.<br />
<br />
<b>Me</b>: "Thanks for the date. It was nice."<br />
<br />
<b>Ryan</b>: "I enjoyed it too, and your daughter is adorable!" I giggled. "What?" he asked.<br />
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<b>Me</b>: "She's not my daughter. She's my niece. I was babysitting her today for my sister."<br />
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<b>Ryan</b>: "Oh, I'm sorry." I shrugged.<br />
<br />
<b>Me</b>: "Don't be. Rachel is a sweet little girl. I'd love to be her mom." He smiled.<br />
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<b>Ryan</b>: "I think you would make a good mom to her."<br />
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<b>Me</b>: "So, the first day, why were you so. . . cold?" I asked.<br />
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<b>Ryan</b>: "I was shocked. Surprised."<br />
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<b>Me</b>: "Why?"<br />
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<b>Ryan</b>: "Such a beautiful lady was coming to work with me in my kitchen." I blushed.<br />
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<b>Me</b>: "So why are you only becoming interested in me? Why me, of all people?"<br />
<br />
<b>Ryan</b>: "I am not just <i>now</i> becoming interested. I have since I saw you. And you because-well, you seem so unique. Beautiful, honest, hard-working, and fun," he said, "my kind of girl." He coughed. "So-uh-see you Friday?" I nodded.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwu-OoeFX4fQZ3-eGgG_8slxbt1E1RfEoehIs-rF8JOVKTSfZstd-5f7i2XMIol-PtROerGoIxZPLhuKb4uSjdSWtUCP-CJqNbEMRPVcR9_YXOiUf682XtKU4jUfXlnT-Pf5BrcBv1WLO/s1600/Screenshot-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwu-OoeFX4fQZ3-eGgG_8slxbt1E1RfEoehIs-rF8JOVKTSfZstd-5f7i2XMIol-PtROerGoIxZPLhuKb4uSjdSWtUCP-CJqNbEMRPVcR9_YXOiUf682XtKU4jUfXlnT-Pf5BrcBv1WLO/s400/Screenshot-35.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1470587824585880116.post-56232705516637678272012-02-01T20:30:00.000-08:002012-02-01T20:30:18.323-08:00Generation 1-Chapter 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7F1_6iEuKV2P4LC27W-K3iiqk8-kHV2op5c45U7OzCa3AlGdusYeeznR_E_NbJ7cnNLGInyzXmI5QwqjAJAkuhq0tOmdco4Doh7u0b80AIKN7TfwelYnk2bq8RYS1bwazk4GjEIgZLzUq/s1600/Screenshot-81.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7F1_6iEuKV2P4LC27W-K3iiqk8-kHV2op5c45U7OzCa3AlGdusYeeznR_E_NbJ7cnNLGInyzXmI5QwqjAJAkuhq0tOmdco4Doh7u0b80AIKN7TfwelYnk2bq8RYS1bwazk4GjEIgZLzUq/s400/Screenshot-81.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I was surprised of how good I was making it now. I used to be homeless, and now I have finally been able to buy a house. Unfortunately, it's only from using money that <i>would</i> have gone toward me going to college. But life is life, and sometimes it's just how things play out.<br />
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Even though I was pretty much broke now, I at least was glad to be off the streets. It wasn't the best in the world, but it was something. I sighed, taking it in. I'd been working on cleaning it and making it half-way decent most of the day. <br />
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<br />
Today was a most important day. It would mean my future. With a place like this, no matter how small, comes a cost. I would need a way to pay the bills, and I don't think $50 a month would satisfy the landlord. I would have to go find a job.<br />
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The Little Corsican Bistro was about the sixth place I visited that day, and I was growing tired of looking. I was lucky enough to catch the owner as she was leaving, and she agreed to hear me out.<br />
Molly French: "So why should I hire you?" she asked.<br />
Me: "Well. I love to cook, and I always have. It has been a passion of mine, and I have been practicing for many years. It all started when my mom taught me to cook." <i>Lie.</i> As if my mother would teach me anything. I didn't even know my mother as it was, though Molly didn't need to know that. She gave me a skeptical look as if she could see through me and hesitated.<br />
Molly: "I don't know," she said. That was it, I broke. I looked her in the eye seriously. <br />
Me: "Please give me this job! I'll need to pay the bills, and I'm just getting off my feet. I had to use my college money to buy a house! Please. . . You can count on me, I won't let you down," I pleaded. I was desperate for a job.<br />
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My grovelling seemed to connect with something as she took pity on me. At least I had my first job! The next best thing is, she asked me to start today. So I had to hurry and put on the uniform she handed me and rush to the kitchen.<br />
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When I reached the kitchen I was surprised to find only employee! Usually places like this had many more, but then again it was kindly cramped. "I'll ring when I get the food done," the worker murmured. <br />
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"I said," he barely mumbled before turning to face me. He simply stared at me, and I begun to become very self-conscious. "What?" I asked as he continued to watch every move I made.<br />
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"Nothing, it's just . ."<br />
"Just what?" I asked anxiously.<br />
"Nothing." He turned to continue his dish. I sighed and started to pick up one of the orders on the counter, but he plucked it out of my hand expressionlessly and pointed to the sink. <i>Oh boy</i>, I thought annoyingly.<br />
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The rest of the night went like that. I was on sink-duty while he was living it up in Cooker's World. Not that that was much better, but I would have certainly preferred it. I worked a six hour shift with a full-house, and Mr. Happy (or what I'd like to call him) over there piling on the dishes for <i>me</i> to wash! I partially think he done it on purpose. After all that, I only brought home $150, but hopefully it would add up soon.<br />
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After i got home I couldn't help but to plop on the couch and rest. I was exhausted! It was going to be a long week. Just think, this is only the beginning.Sallinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00590637213711759135noreply@blogger.com3