Overcoming My Limits

At only the age of 11, Blythe Mitchell had been caught up in a terrible situation. One her family recalls as "The Accident." Her right leg was considered paralyzed and all the nerves had died, but Blythe had hope. One doctor she had consulted told her that in several years, she may just walk again.
Now, at the age of 17, Blythe is still wheelchair bound and even more curious about her "accident." It seems as if everyone but her knows what happened those many years ago. Her seemingly over-protective mother keeps silent and no one, not even her loyal maid, Macy Matthews, will tell her a thing. Which lead to another mystery. Why did the Matthews' go bankrupt after her accident? Did it have anything to do with her family?

Questions keep appearing. Can Blythe find the answers? Will she find her past, or will she finally understand the danger she's in?

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8. "she will be loved" -maroon 5

Embrace your stereotypes; we all know that Monday is the wickedest day of them all. To start things off, I was woken quite abruptly by the rolls of thunder; it was practically monsooning outside. When trying to check my clock, I was greeted by that vase full of those beautiful roses. Heartache struck once again. I reached for one, trying to pull it out as docile as I could. I examined it carefully, noticing that Brandon had de-thorned it. I smiled half-heartedly. It seems that since we were toddlers, Brandon has always been watching out for me.

I picked the note up, tracing my finger over his charmingly written name. I opened the drawer of my nightstand and carefully placed note inside. I would guard it; keep it safe. I closed the drawer in just enough time before Macy walked in.

“Good Morning.” She greeted.

“Is it?”

“What, roses not pretty enough for you? I thought they were your favorite.” She questioned, a playful smirk across her features.

“They’re lovely,” I blushed, “did you tell him they were my favorite?”

“Nope,” she shook her head, “I assume he remembered.”  She peeled back my sheets and began to set out my clothes.

“Macy, why doesn’t my mother like you?”

“I suppose it has to do with the matter of money, and the fact that her daughter is grown up enough to make a life of her own.” She pushed my chair to the edge of the bed.

“Okay, so why doesn’t she like Brandon?”

She stiffened, but only for a moment. “He’s a teenage boy. A teenage boy who hangs around the wrong people when he’s not here. Maybe she feels like he’ll be a bad influence on you.”

I sighed, remembering how mother acted when Brandon came to my rescue yesterday morning. “I have a feeling there are some other reasons.”

She lowered her voice. “You keep those feelings to yourself.” I didn’t understand. Why was Macy being acting so out of sorts?

“I-I will.”

 

 

~O~

 

 

Over the next few days, I hadn’t much to do. Mother went out Tuesday, just like she said she would in that phone call. She didn’t come back until Wednesday afternoon, which worried me a bit. But Macy assured me that everything was fine. It still didn’t calm me, so Brandon went home alone that night; Macy staying in our guest room. Brandon would’ve been some more comfort, but I wasn’t about to tell anyone that. Thursday was another rainy day. Cold, gloomy, depressing.

By the time Friday’s bright, early-morning sun rose, I jumped at the chance to be outside. The sun’s rays left warmth on my face, making me feel a tiny bit happier. Nowadays, only two things made me happy: Brandon, and being outside. And since I couldn’t have one, I’d surely have the other. Sneaking past everyone in the house, I made my way to and through the garden.

 I passed by the fountain and around the hedges. Around the pruned back rose bushes, I smiled; so this is where those lovelies in my bed chambers came from. Moving on, I found the path to a specific part of the garden my dad used to bring my mum; their ‘Lovers’ hideout. Of all the time I spent at home, I’d never ventured back there. I looked to see if anyone was around. Nope, time to roll…literally.

It was a giant circle, surrounded by the rose bushes, with a statue of two lovers directly in the center. They were holding each other, staring into each other’s entirety. I wasn’t totally the romantic type, but it was definitely a breathtaking sight. I moved closer to it, seeing that there was an engraving on it.

 

“To the only woman I’ve ever fallen for,

For the last woman I will ever fall for,

I fall to my knees for you,

To show that I’ll always, truly love you.”

 

“Powerful words, huh?” Brandon came up behind me.

I ran my fingers across the old, golden font. “Very. To hear them spoken, though.”

“I imagine them being said with feeling,” he stepped behind me, leaning down to my face level, “very soft spoken, loving, intimate feeling.”

“You suppose so?” I blushed, attempting to keep my voice level.

“Well, no, but that’s the way I would say it.” I could feel him smile.

“And you would mean it?”

“But of course. A poem such as this deserves meaning behind it, don’t you think?” He looked at me, his eyes sparkling.

“It most certainly does.” I turned my face to his, or noses brushing together. Thunder rumbled overhead, but it didn’t break our stare. As if the clouds had been ripped open by God, rain poured down on us. Our clothes were plastered to our bodies.

“We should probably go inside.” He almost whispered.

“We should,” I replied. He started to move away, but I pulled him back. “We should, but we won’t.” He smiled at me, getting down on his knees. He opened my legs just wide enough so he could kneel between them. He lay his hands on my lower thighs just above my knees. We were eye level with each other; his gorgeous green ones looking into my dull hazel. He looked a little worried, restrained even.

“What?” I asked him.

“I—I want to kiss you.” He stuttered, observing my lips.

“Y-you do?” I blushed.

“Mhmm…” he bit his bottom lip. My blushed burned deeper. He wanted to kiss me? “But I won’t.”

“B-but, why n-not?” I whimpered. His eyebrows raised in astonishment.

“Do you want me to?”

I blushed. Of all the dreaming I’ve done lately, there’s a lot of things I wanted him to do to me. But admit that to him was definitely not one of them. I swallowed hard, building up my courage. Of the little courage I had, all I could do was nod my head. He smiled, taking my chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb over my lower lip. I tried to keep my breathing even, but my heart refused to keep a stable beat. He leaned in closer, drops from his wet curls landing on my forehead.

“You’re so beautiful.” He looked down unto me.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Just kiss me already,” I whispered, losing my patience easily.

He brought his lips down to mine, his being surprisingly soft. He kissed me over, and over, and over again. He moved his hands to my waist as I moved mine into his soaking curls. He kissed me harder. I couldn’t help myself, so I tugged at his curls causing him to moan. I sprang away from him.

“It’s okay,” he ran the back of his hand down my cheek, “it’s nothing to worry about.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Hurt me? Aha, no. What you heard there was well…” he scratched the back of his head.

“Well what?” I asked him, confused.

He leaned back down to my face, our lips millimeters apart. “That my dear, was pleasure.”

“Oh, I…I don’t know what to say.” My voice wavered.

“Pretty girl, you don’t have to say anything.” His voice seductively lowered, and I blushed intensely. He was about to kiss me again when,

“Brandon!” Mother screeched over the thunder and lightning. “Get away from her!”

“M-mother?”

She ran at us, pushing Brandon onto the wet, hard ground and slapping him across the face. Again, and again, she hit him. Wise enough as he was, he didn’t make the situation worse. He just lay there taking a beating.

“Mother, stop!” I pulled at her, “Please!”

“Don’t you dare defend him!” she scowled at me.

“But you’re hurting him!” I cried. I suppose she saw the fear in my eyes because she immediately backed off.

“Blythe, honey, let’s go.” She gripped my chair.

“No!” I yelled over yet another roar of thunder.

“Well I’m not giving you a choice.” She hissed, pushing me away.

“Neither am I!” I jumped out of the chair. She stood in front of me, mouth agape. I stood for only a few seconds before collapsing next to Brandon who lay on the ground, pelted by rain. I brushed back his curls, taking in his vulnerability. It was odd seeing someone else in my position.

“Fine, then. Have it your way.” She walked away.

“It’s about time.” I said loud enough for her to hear. After making sure she stomped away, I averted my attention back to Brandon. 

“Brandon, are you alright?” I leaned over him, the rain beating against my back.

“Blythe, do you seriously think your 150 pound mother could do me much harm?”

“You never know.” I replied, feeling more than a bit stupid. He sat up, taking me by the shoulders. I looked from his wet curls, to his lips, then up to his eyes. Then, he hugged me.

“Thank you for not leaving me, Blythe.”

I hugged him back and, even though we were wet, I could still feel his body’s warmth.

“I don’t think I could.”

 

~O~

 

Brandon carried me into my room, left for the bathroom when I changed, then gave me a goodnight kiss before he left.

“Blythe, I…” he trailed off.

“What is it?” I pulled up my sheets.

He sighed and smiled a bit sadly at me, “Just…Goodnight. And sweet dreams.”

“Good night.” I replied. He pecked me gently.

“Brandon,” I fingered the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Why were you in the restricted part of the garden today?” I asked him.

He simply laughed and grinned at me cheekily. “I could ask you the exact same question. Now hush,” he kissed me again, “you need to get some sleep.”

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