Chapter Text
I WAKE WITH a strained gasp. My eyes snap open as I shoot upright, my shoulders tensed and up to my ears, my back rigid straight, and my hands clutching onto the bedsheets that are now draped over my lap. My knees are slightly bent as I sit upright, staring wildly at the mirror across the room in front of my bed. My eyes flicker wildly left to right, trying to get a sense of my surroundings as I pant fast, my breaths sharp and ragged as if I had just completed a marathon. I feel beads of sweat trickle down the side of my face, or is that the rain, or tears perhaps? I can’t tell at this point, nor do I care.
Am I back in Nevis? No. No, I’m not. I’m not in Nevis. I’m not in the bed next to my mother as she held me in her arms tightly before she… well, anyways. I’m not back in Nevis, escaping the hurricane with my brother, James, who… No. No, I’m not back there. I’m in my bedroom, by the looks of it, at the Washington’s residence. I’m in my rather small bed, my trembling hands clutching at the bedsheets tightly, so tight my knuckles turn white. I’m in my bed, in my bedroom. I’m home. This is my home. Not Nevis.
I look to my right. Over there is my wooden desk by my window, my laptop surprisingly still open but the screen is black and loose-leaf papers are scattered over my desk along with random pens. An empty metal tray sits on the edge of my desk with an empty white mug and a plate with crumbs on it. My chair is scooted back slightly away from the desk. My blinds above my desk are closed over the window, so it blocks out the early morning sunrays a little that shines through them. A few feet away from my desk, is my closet where I store all my miscellaneous things and my clothes and shoes and then to the left of that is my vanity where I get myself ready for the day and then right next to that is my dresser where I store my pajamas and stay-at home clothes. My laundry basket sits between the wall and the dresser next to the closed bedroom door. I’m home. There’s no flood surrounding me. No dead bodies facing face down in the murky green-blue water. There’s no debris from torn houses from the harsh winds of the hurricane. There’s no thunder crackling, no lightning flashing. I don’t see him. I don’t see my older brother, James, who had died while trying to protect me from the raging storm back in Nevis. He shoved me out of the way when we were trying to catch our breath, standing underneath a tree that snapped off its trunk that was rooted to the ground. And what did I do? I just stood there with a stunned and frightened expression on my face as I watched the tree fall, fall, fall. It collapses onto James, the branch hitting his upper back and he topples forward in an instant, landing face down in the water like the other dead bodies. His limbs twisted at an awkward angle. The water turning from a green-blue color to a dark purple and I realize then, that it was blood. His blood.
My sharp, ragged panting comes short when I hear the obnoxious beeping coming from the left side of me. I whip my head over my shoulder, eyes widening and face paling. I’m still shaking as I lift my hand up from the bedsheets and slam the alarm off, wincing a bit as my hand makes contact with the buttons on top of it. Now, there’s nothing but quiet in my room. It’s just me. It’s just me on this small bed, in this dark and empty space.
I feel myself sinking a little into the mountain of pillows surrounding me. I close my eyes gently as I feel the tears start to slip down my freckled cheeks. I draw my legs up to my chest, wrapping my thin arms around them tightly and resting my forehead behind my knees, letting a lock of red-brownish hair fall in front of my knees as the rest of my long, curly, wavy red-brownish hair falls around me.
I swallow hard, licking my dry lips and letting out a shaky breath but it only turned out to be a choked sob. I clamp a hand over my mouth to try to stifle the sob but unfortunately that doesn’t work. I squeeze my eyes harder as memories of my childhood floods through my brain. I’m not the type of person who likes to discuss about their past. I like to keep my past tucked away in my brain behind a closed door and so far, I haven’t had to reopen closing wounds but basically my childhood life was a living hell. My father abandoned my mother, brother, and I when I was just ten-years-old. For what purposes, I do not know. I just remember my parents arguing one night and then boom. My father vanished. I never saw him again. Anyways, not even two years later, when I was about twelve, my mother fell extremely ill. Soon, I caught the illness. I survived the sickness but my mother didn’t. She died as she was holding me in her arms. Then, we moved in with our cousin who not long after James and I moved in with him, he committed suicide. We found him laying in a pool of blood on his bed in his room, the only conclusion that came to mind was that he either stabbed or shot himself to death. Then, after that a hurricane came. It destroyed my home. It tore and ate everything up. It tore homes apart, drowned people, killed children, it killed my brother. Ever since the hurricane, I’ve always been afraid of storms. It will always cause me to fall back in time and reexperience the hurricane all over again.
Now, here I am. I wrote my way out of hell, strangers, kind strangers heard my stories that were published in the newspaper and offered to help me get the next ship available to New York. So, I sailed across the Atlantic with other immigrants to Manhattan, New York City. There, I met Mrs. Washington at a marketplace one day. She’s a kind woman, a soft-hearted and sweet woman who loves me like her own son. I told her my story when she asked me what I was doing out alone in the dangerous yet beautiful city. She looked aghast, shocked and she grabbed my arm and dragged me all the way to their apartment where I met my adoptive father, George Washington, and my adoptive older brother Gilbert Marquis de Lafayette for the very first time. Martha, George’s wife and my adoptive mother, explained to George my story and insisted on taking me in and raising me as a child of their own. George agreed nonetheless and here I am. Three years I have been living with the Washington’s and I must confess, it has been life-changing for me and I never felt so loved in my entire life. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.
My choked sobs turn into a small sniffle as I lift my head up from my knees and wipe my tear-stained freckled cheeks with the heel of my palm. I swallow thickly, looking out the window as I wrap my arms around my legs again, resting my chin behind my kneecaps and admiring the beautiful sunrise. The dark, navy-blue sky suddenly changed colors. It went from a midnight blue to a light blue sky with a haze of pale yellow and soft pink and lavender purple mixed together. I think I see a haze of gray in the middle somewhere as the sun slowly rises up from behind the metal skyscrapers across the street from my apartment. The sunrays shine in between the skyscrapers, in a straight line and directly into my eyes. I have to use my hand as a visor to block it and I recoil slightly, grimacing.
I sigh through my nose as my pounding heart slowly calms down into a soft, slow rhythm. I turn over my shoulder toward my left, toward my alarm clock on my nightstand table next to my bed. The glowing red numbers read: 6:45 A.M. I have exactly an hour to get myself ready for school.
I shiver at the thought of school. I’m a little nervous but yet I’m also excited. But I frown as a sudden, fearful realization dawns upon me. I swallow. What if my past gets leaked out to the whole school? What if people know how pathetic I am? Especially during a storm? I mean, who would want to be friends with a bastard, orphan, and an immigrant? They can’t know. Nobody needs to know.
My anxious, racing thoughts comes to a halt when I hear three soft, tender knocks on my closed bedroom door. My eyes flicker towards the door, my breath hitching in my throat. I sit up a bit straighter against the mountain of pillows surrounding me, combing out any tangled knots in my lock of auburn hair that’s fallen around my shoulders and comb my bangs to the side. I sniff a couple of times and wipe away as many tears as I can off of my freckled dotted face with the heel of my palm. I clear my throat as I rest my hands on my lap and force a reassuring smile toward the door.
“Come in,” I say weakly, grimacing at how hoarse my voice sounds.
The door creaks open slightly and I brace myself for who might the intruder be. I swallow hard, my Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as I let out a shaky breath, watching intently as the door swings open. The knocker’s head pokes through the small crack between the door’s frame and the door itself. He smiles softly when his rich chocolate brown eyes land on mine. Only his upper body, from his chest and up, pokes through the door.
“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s me. May I come in?”
I shrug, smiling truly this time. But it’s just a small smile.
“You’re my brother, Gil,” I say with a chuckle, running a hand through my auburn colored hair. “You don’t have to ask.”
He shrugs and fully steps inside now, closing the door behind him and tucking his hands into his jean pockets. He rocks a little on his heels. He stands few inches away from the door.
“It’s a force of habit, mon petite lion,” he says with his thick French accent.
I fold my arms over my chest and roll my eyes, laughing to myself as I shake my head. My eyes land on my adoptive brother, Lafayette’s. Lafayette’s a smart man. A kind one too. He’s two years older than me, which makes him nineteen. He’ll turn twenty in a few months from now and in a few months past his birthday, I’ll be eighteen. Lafayette, or Laf or Gil for short, has rosy cheeks and pale skin, a lean, masculine and strong body. He’s physically fit and the biceps on his arms are about the size of a watermelon while mine are about the size of a grapefruit. His red-orange hair smoothed back and combed to the side and it glistens against the sunlight coming through the window. It’s then, that I realize, that that is hair gel. He wears a red long-sleeved turtleneck shirt with blue denim jeans and white Chuck Taylors. And me? I’m still in my pajamas.
Lafayette walks toward me in a graceful motion. It takes him two steps to make it to my bed. Power of having long legs. Lucky bastard. He sits himself down at the edge of my bed. The mattress jostles a little and it dips down a little due to his added weight. I watch him interlace his fingers together and lean forward slightly and rests his forearms on his thighs, his back arching a little. He presses his lips together in a straight line before turning to face me.
It’s quiet between us for a few moments as we stare awkwardly at each other, waiting for one of us to start a conversation. But instead, we just ended up having a staring contest until Lafayette clears his throat and sighs through his nose lightly. He forces the corners of his lips turn upward and he tilts his head slightly, examining every detail of me.
“You okay, Alex?” he asks quietly, his voice almost in a hushed whisper.
I swallow and my reassuring smile fades into a frown. But I quickly return that smile to him when he frowns worriedly and I nod curtly, sharply.
“Mhm,” I say. “I’m fine.”
Of course, he doesn’t believe me. He raises an eyebrow and gives me this look that says, “Are you lying to me?”
“Alex—” he begins but I cut him off, squeezing his arm reassuringly.
“I’m fine, Gil,” I say. “Really. What are you doing here, anyways? Shouldn’t you be getting on a plane?”
“I wanted to check on you,” he says. “I wanted to say goodbye before I leave for France for college.”
I only nod, but I don’t reply.
He sighs again, this time out his mouth instead of through his nose. He sits up straighter somewhat and runs his hand through his auburn hair. He turns to me, locking his chocolate brown eyes on my violet ones.
“I don’t want to leave you, Alex…” he mutters, his eyes flickering down toward his lap.
I chuckle softly, shaking my head. “Gil, I’ll be fine. Trust me! You do trust me, right?”
He nods. “Of course! You’re my brother! I trust you with my life!”
“Then know that I’ll be okay on my own. I don’t need you to follow me all the time like a lost puppy. Plus, Dad’s going to be one of my teachers there so it won’t be as bad.” “True,” he sighs, agreeingly. “But still. What if something happens to you, Alex? What if you get hurt? Or…what if there’s a storm while you’re at school?”
I wince when he mentions the storm but I let him continue ranting a little, letting him get his anxious thoughts off of his chest. I notice his leg is bouncing up and down slightly as he chews on his nails, his foot tapping against the wooden floor.
“What if you get r-ra-ra…” He can’t bare himself to finish the sentence. He doesn’t need too. I frown, looking down toward my lap, ashamed. Why I feel ashamed? I have no idea. Lafayette swallows hard, licking his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. His hands tremble as he raises one trembly hand toward his mouth and he bites his nails. His hand still shaking. His leg still bouncing up and down and his other free hand’s fingers drum against his knee as it bounces up and down. His eyes are wide and wild, filled with fear of what would happen to me. The fear of losing me, the only thing he loves in this world, the fear that he won’t be there to protect me. The fear that he won’t be there when I need him most.
I sigh through my nose heavily as I prop myself up in a straighter position than before. I swing my legs around the edge of the bed so I’m sitting shoulder to shoulder next to my brother. Even when sitting, I’m still a head shorter than him. I’m just right above his shoulder but under his ear. Lafayette moans miserably as he puts his face in his hands. I wrap my arm around his shoulders, resting my head underneath his ear and on top of his shoulder.
“I don’t want to leave you, Alex…” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled with his hands covering his face, his elbows on his knees. “I don’t want too…I know you’re old enough to take care of yourself and all but…still. Mon ami, you’re…you’re small and fragile. Vulnerable. And you can be easily broken. You’ll make an easy target and…and if something were to happen to you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive myself…”
I feel the corners of my lips turn upward slightly and sit up, lifting my head off of his shoulder. I turn to him, rubbing his arm up and down comfortingly. I let out a soft laugh.
“Gil,” I say. “Calm down, will ya? You’re not going to lose me! I’ll be fine!”
“I know, I know,” he sighs, running a hand through his ginger-colored hair again. His cheeks puffs out as he exhales long and slow through his mouth. “It’s just…like I said, Alex: you’re vulnerable and small. I don’t want…I don’t want you to be heartbroken or taken advantage of, is all…”
I brush back a loose strand of hair behind Lafayette’s ear, almost absentmindedly. I rest my hand on his cheek and he hums with content as he closes his eyes gently and leans into my touch, gripping my small wrist for dear life.
“Gil,” I say, almost sternly. “Relax. I’ll be fine. Trust me. I know how to take care of myself and plus, on the bright side, someone taught me how to throw an uppercut!”
He snorts and I snicker. Soon, we both burst out laughing together, our laughs almost harmonizing but mine is a bit higher than his. We both double over, our arms slung across each other’s shoulders as we convulsed with laughter. Lafayette nods as he laughs, his mind filling up with childhood memories of when he first taught me self-defense. He’d teach me how to throw an uppercut and an undercut and how to grab someone from behind and flip them over your shoulder and pin them to the ground while their flat on their stomach and your knee in the middle of their back, their arms pinned behind them. He taught me knife-throwing while we’d walk through the woods and taught me how to shoot a gun, but he told me, very strictly and sternly, to use one when and if necessary. We’d spend hours in the backyard, from early afternoon say around four when Lafayette got home from school to roughly six in the evening when George gets home from work and Martha is just finishing making dinner, wrestling each other, throwing uppercuts and undercuts, throwing kicks and learning how to doge a punch or how to block one. Those were good times.
Lafayette glances at the clock on my nightstand once our laughter has died down somewhat. He frowns, sighing through his nose as his smile fades. He locks his chocolate brown eyes with my violet ones and I couldn’t help but grin.
“You sure you’ll be alright, Alex?” he asks, biting the corner of his lip.
I nod and squeeze his arm. “I’ll be fine, Gil. I swear.”
He nods, sighing through his nose one last time before pushing himself up off the edge of my mattress and runs a hand through his hair before turning around to face me. He smiles and extends his hand out toward me. I stare at it with a blank expression on my face, as if it were an alien.
“Come on,” Lafayette says. “Martha’s making breakfast. And I have to get you to school.”
I sigh through my nose as I gently place my hand in his. Lafayette helps me up to my feet and we stand in front of each other, staring into each other’s eyes. I swear, I can see my reflection in his pupil.
Lafayette tucks back a loose auburn curl behind my ear. He nods sharply and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, alright?” he says, brushing back my auburn bangs out of my violet eyes.
I only nod and wrap my arms tighter around myself, making myself look vulnerable and small. Only then to have Lafayette pull me in a tight embrace. My head is under his chin as I snake my arms around him, returning the hug. After a few minutes, Lafayette finally pulls back and ruffles my hair. I swat at his hand, sticking my tongue out at him and folding my arms over my chest.
Lafayette only laughs a little before pressing a kiss to my forehead and ruffling my hair one more time before finally leaving me alone in this empty, cold bedroom with the door clicking shut behind him.