Layla.
Layla - part five.
A week had gone by, and I hadn’t called Matthew.
Of course I thought about it, in fact, there wasn’t an hour of each day that I hadn’t. But there were other things that needed to be settled. So, just like always, I pushed my non-existant “love life” to the side, hoping to forget about the nagging thoughts of lust that ran through my mind every now and then.
There were more important issues to deal with.
Like how in the world do I handle taking care of a one year-old, while keeping my known image to hate children. That really didn’t seem to cope well with my beliefs.
Though, sometimes I would just watch her sleep… and I would find myself smiling as she would kick at the covers underneath her.
She reminded me of my past.
I knew that was the reason I was drawn to her from the start. Her parents were disfunctional just as mine, and she was quiet, like I was.
She was my way to make-up for my past; to make sure she wouldn’t end up like the disaster I call myself.
Within that week, I packed up everything in folded box cut-outs that were provided by secret services. I felt excited yet terrified to leave the appartment that I had become accoustom to.
Layla was provided food and clothing from a local shelter that had heard the news, and I was thankful on account that I didn’t have a lot of money.
It wasn’t till thursday evening when the stress of my situation began to kick in.
Of course I thought about it, in fact, there wasn’t an hour of each day that I hadn’t. But there were other things that needed to be settled. So, just like always, I pushed my non-existant “love life” to the side, hoping to forget about the nagging thoughts of lust that ran through my mind every now and then.
There were more important issues to deal with.
Like how in the world do I handle taking care of a one year-old, while keeping my known image to hate children. That really didn’t seem to cope well with my beliefs.
Though, sometimes I would just watch her sleep… and I would find myself smiling as she would kick at the covers underneath her.
She reminded me of my past.
I knew that was the reason I was drawn to her from the start. Her parents were disfunctional just as mine, and she was quiet, like I was.
She was my way to make-up for my past; to make sure she wouldn’t end up like the disaster I call myself.
Within that week, I packed up everything in folded box cut-outs that were provided by secret services. I felt excited yet terrified to leave the appartment that I had become accoustom to.
Layla was provided food and clothing from a local shelter that had heard the news, and I was thankful on account that I didn’t have a lot of money.
It wasn’t till thursday evening when the stress of my situation began to kick in.