Saturday, May 1, 2010

Sorry. Or not.

There was an extremely thin compartment in the book's thick back cover, and its little clasp had clicked undone, the material around it rippling slightly with a now-fading glow.
"What the hell?" I breathed, and opened it.
On the inside was a delicate looking silver chain circlet. Hanging from it, held in place by blue tinged metal, was a round, clear gem. It seemed to catch all the light around it, hold it inside, then send it back out, sparkling like the reflection of sun on water.
That didn't really catch my eye the most. Well, okay, it did at first, sparkling like it was, but what really caught my attention was the little folded paper, with one word written on it in scrawling writing:
Margarite

"What... the..." I repeated, picking up the note slowly. Azara
quickly came over, staring not at the note, but at the circlet.
"How could this be?" she murmured, along with something else, but the whole world for me had been muted. All I saw was this note. All the desperation to have words from my parents, words I understood, a desperation I never knew I had, welled up inside me. I cherished this moment. I would hear from them now, finally. Then I started unfolding the page, slowly, then faster and faster. And read.

Margarite

We're sorry
So, so sorry
We love you
We couldn't take care of you,
we had no choice,
we made sure the family we put you with wouldn't throw you out on the streets
we made sure they'd love you
We will find you again once we can
we promise
We love you so much

Your mother and father


These are the words I wished to be written on the paper sitting in my hands. Instead, it said:

Margarite

Keep this safe, and keep this hidden.

That was all.
No apologies, no names, nothing but a few quickly scrawled words.
Hey.
The paper was wet.
Oh.
Tears.
I was sobbing. Why? I never cry. Ever. I don't know why, it just doesn't happen. I felt rage inside of me too. They abandoned me, they left me with nothing to remember them by, no loving words or memories. This frustration and passionate rage I felt for them was sudden, so sudden some part of me was saying, "What's wrong with you? For your whole life you haven't heard anything of them... but maybe it was having no hopes, accepting the fact, then something making me think that they had left something behind for me, giving me wonderful hope... then the hopes were crushed.
"Margarite?" I heard a soft voice, warm and comforting. Azara was standing next to me, concern etched into her features. Underneath, I could tell she was excited about something. I couldn't talk about whatever this book thing was at the time though.
"Sorry." I sniffled, rubbing my eyes, They felt weird, all puffy and probably extremely red, considering they were a very light, icy blue before. Dark eyes don't get as red, right? Whatever. I'll bet I looked horrible. I don't really care though.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, calming down. I felt embarrassed about my little tantrum.
"Margarite... "
I looked at Azara. She was staring at the circlet.
"do you know what this is?"
"Some sort of precious jewel or something, I'd guess. Which could be why it's hidden so well."
"No.W ell, sort of. It's an Shaiil." She fiddled with her necklace.
I made the connection.
"Holy crap."

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