Three years later
I wake up to the sound of my daughter crying.
Azrael wipes the drool off her face and cradles her, half-asleep.
"Does my little devil need boobs?" I ask, turning over to my side.
"Nah... I tried, she doesn't want milk." He yawns. His handsome faces weighed down with exhaustion and lack of sleep.
Parenting is hard.
I stretch out my arms before turning on the lights and taking her.
"What's up, crazy?"
Her crying quitens down as I walk back and forth the room, rocking her.
Azrael grabs my waist and pulls me so that I am on his lap and my daughter is on mine.
"My whole world," He whispers.
I got that kind of love. The kind I always wanted.
And I've never been happier.
Someone knocks.
I open the door and can't help but laugh.
Lucas enters, his hair an absolute mess, followed by Ocean.
"Same," I announce.
Ocean and Azrael fist bump and fall to the bed, leaving me and Lucas alone with three babies.
But they all start crying so our spouses pretty much have to wake up.
After an hour or so of lullabies and rocking them back and forth and feeling like a terrible mom and almost having a mental breakdown, they're all finally asleep.
The four of us are scattered on the floor like dead bodies.
In this weird setting I realise something. I spent my entire life trying to not be my parents, trying to hurt them for hurting me, trying to be strong because I never had the option to be weak.
I tried everything. I tried to be cool, fun, badass. I tried to be the perception of me.
Somewhere in all that, I lost me.
I lost the girl I was, I only saw her sometimes during panic attacks in the mirror.
I was the girl who shot herself in simulations, the girl who always had band aid's on her wrist, the girl who people either idolized or hated but no one loved.
But this girl has a girl now.
And I would never, never, let her live the life I led.
My daughter will know happiness and love like it's her name.
She will know how to fight and how to stand up for herself. But she'll also be sheltered and loved and appreciated.
My daughter will always be my daughter.
She won't be a princess, a executionist, a weapon.
She'll be my little baby.
"Y'all want a drink?" Lucas asks, exhausted.
No one hesitated before whispering yes.
I drop a little kiss to my daughter's forehead.
"I love you, mia Cara."
YOU ARE READING
The Queen Of Eternity
FantasyUNDER HEAVY EDITING Love. That's a strong word. It breaks you into a million pieces yet somehow manages to put you back together. Power. Self explanatory, isn't it? Who doesn't want power? But power makes you do things that seem psychopathic until y...
