The Widow's Cabin (Completed)

Prologue

Copyright Kamil Coo 2014. All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First book on Wattpad. Copyright Kamil Coo 2014. All Rights Reserved. This book cannot be reproduced, copied, or used without the author's consent.

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Prologue

I just didn't see the point.

Funny how some guys seem so scholarly when talking to creatures that are probably the only reason why they spend their money on cement-like hair wax, overpriced ill-fitted shirts, and pants that can barely hold their crotches—women. Some might say that I'm, well, kind of evasive when it comes to this kind of issue just because I never had a relationship with the drooled-over opposite sex. Well maybe I just don't understand women. They're unfamiliar creatures to me. Alien, in fact, that I sometimes think of them as debris from a planet called "Lipsticktopia" raging at a million kilometers per hour towards the world of men, sent to pulverize our world into tiny specs of dust floating loosely in the dark and void world of nothing. No, I'm not being a douche, I'm just being ridiculously honest to myself. I never believed in—gasp!—love. Well, girlfriend and boyfriend love, to be precise. Edward Cullen and Bella Swan love, Romeo and Juliet love. From classic to modern love, you name it. I never believed that one's whole world could just practically shrink into a CocaCola bottle-like figure with a built-in drama stage. I laugh at people who brag about their hearts stopping in mid-beat when they see a gorgeous lass pass by, and no, I don't throw cliché's like Love is Blind, or whatever, because I also notice attractive women. It's just that maybe I don't want to have any of it. It's ridiculous and downright pointless. I grew up my whole life watching my father crumple into pieces. He just crumpled like shortbread exposed under broad daylight when my mom walked out the door. Actually, window. She climbed out the window literally. See? Women.

And then comes the word Trust. How can you actually trust something that almost never existed your whole life? I mean, eight years was eight years but I should say that it just wasn't enough. My mother stayed with us for eight years, and yes, that mattered. The other eleven years of my life without her also mattered. I was left like a rag doll on a corner of the street, cold, helpless, and searching for maternal affection.

I faced my life everyday like a plane on autopilot. I wake up, go to school, go home, face my drunkard of a father, sleep, wake up, go to school. I have friends, yes, and—no surprise there—they're all men. I'm just uncomfortable and awkward around women, and yes, I'm acquainted to a bunch of women but that ended there. There's this intangible thin line between friends and acquaintances, and I certainly knew how to keep them off that line.

But well, as they say, everyone has their detours. Mine happened one summer afternoon, and yes, it caught me off guard. It happened so fast it sent me reeling and grasping for reason. It would be apt if I said that once in your life, you experience something unimaginable. Something beyond your control, your belief; something beyond reason and logic.

Something that happened in the most unimaginable time of my life, in the most unimaginable place in the world, with the most unimaginable person I have ever known.