Echoes, page 4
part #3 of Reincarnation Series
I cautiously walked closer as he had his head bowed. “Do you know who you are here? Right now, in this lifetime?”
“No. Everything is strange yet oddly familiar. Like this language, I do not know. Yet, I am conversing with you. What an honor it truly is.”
“My son. You are my son in this lifetime, but you need to become one or he will never come back to me. You, Alexander The Great, have made my family proud. I didn’t know of you at first, but the goddess revealed it to me once I was reborn, and my chest swelled with pride.”
With his head still bowed, I circled around and kneeled behind him. I never realized the yellow roses Paris got on his back bloomed while mine were still closed off. Slowly, I grabbed the knife from his hand. He let it go easily, respecting who I was… and who I am.
“Look into that reflection. Observe him while he looks back at you,” I gave the instructions slowly.
He lifted his head and looked at Paris.
Before either of them could say anything, I plunged Aphrodite into his left side while whispering, “As I was separated as two, let me merge into one.”
Both images gasped simultaneously as if something smacked the two together. I removed the knife, letting the first three drops fall to the floor. His wound quickly closed. I looked at Paris’ reflection as he stared back at me. I saw both the fearless conqueror who reigned in his twenties and my son who made me proud. Through it all Paris was always my son. He was my Paris, and I loved him dearly.
I smiled at him. It took him a moment to smile back, but he recognized me. He was one person; the past, present, and future were always going to be him.
“Did you have to stab me, Old Man?” he asked with a small smile on his face. He winced when he tried to move.
I shrugged, tossing the knife on top of his bed. I stood and helped him up.
“Well, you did ruin my vacation. You were always a fan of dramatics and flair. I guess now it makes sense. You were always in there. Dormant, waiting for the right time to show who you really were all this time. I love you son, both parts of you.” I pulled him into a hug.
He chuckled. “And, I’m the dramatic one?”
Paris hugged me back. He didn’t notice the change yet, but he was instantly taller, about my height. His hair, once a dirty blonde, was darker with blonde highlights peeking through. He had more muscle than before. He was as a warrior, a conqueror, should be. I was proud my son was Alexander The Great. I wasn’t going to tell him this, but he was stronger than me now. Still, he’d always be my little boy.
I kissed the side of his head. “Come on,” I said, reluctantly letting him go. That being our first hug since Marisol and Travis died. “Go get washed up. I’ll call the boys to clean this up. Dori and your mom will be coming back as soon as I text Tank.”
Paris chuckled. “Okay, but I think I’m going to avoid the mirrors for a little bit.”
I laughed. “Trust me, I avoided them for weeks, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are one and the same. You will never be two again. You are whole Paris. Whole as you’ll ever be.”
He nodded. I knew he needed time to adjust to his transformation, so I would give him just that.
“Okay, Old Man, unless you want to bathe me, you should go get cleaned up yourself,” he teased.
I tried to hide my smirk of joy that my son was returning to me.
“Boy,” I warned.
He laughed. “But seriously, Dad, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. You saved my life, once again,” he said with pride shining in his eyes.
“Just like how you’ve countlessly saved mine. Now, wash up, birthday boy. We need to take you out.”
“Dad, that was two days ago. My party was cancelled ‘cause of all of this. I missed my own party.” He snickered.
“Repeat it,” I commanded to Paris.
“Do I have to?”
“Yes,” I stated firmly.
“Fine. We are Troys. We die as warriors, never as the victim!” He stopped there, and I waited for him to continue. He rolled his eyes. “And, we always go out in style. Jesus, Dad,” he pouted as he walked into his bathroom.
I left the room laughing. I saw more of my son today than I had seen of him in the last two years.
Paris
Being who I was and who I’d become was a hard pill to swallow. It was like I couldn’t forget anything that ever happened to me. I did say I wished I was someone as relevant as my old man, but I didn’t mean this. This was too much to take in. It had been a whole week, and I refused to go to school for fear I would lose it on someone and end their life right there. My old man was teaching me techniques to make sure I felt safe enough to walk out of the house. Meanwhile, I avoided texts and calls, and I didn’t even go on my social media.
It was freaky to see my reflection, so I had avoided mirrors. Dad said it wasn’t going to be a problem anymore, so I told myself to get over it and start looking in the mirror. I first looked at myself over the weekend and was shocked at how different I had become. I knew something wasn’t right when I stood eye to eye with my old man; we were the same height. It freaked me out even more that I was much bigger and faster. I didn’t know my own strength.
I rolled over in bed, wanting to sleep in some more, but the moment I heard her voice, I turned over in my bed with a smile on my face. I looked down as Dori stared up at me, still wearing her PJs. She extended her arms out, wanting me to pick her up.
“Ris… Ris,” she called, still unable to pronounce my full name.
I groaned as I removed my bedsheets and got out of bed. I leaned down to pick her up. She giggled and hugged me, wrapping her little arms around my neck. I kissed the side of her disheveled head full of hair.
“Hi Dori, hungry?” I asked her.
“Mmhmm,” she answered me as she hugged me tighter and laid her head on my shoulder.
I chuckled. Dori always woke up so damn early I really didn’t need an alarm clock.
I opted out of putting on anything more than the boxers I had on since Dori wasn’t going to let me go. I sighed, knowing going to school was going to be a feat now that I had her in my arms. There was going to be a lot of crying and complaining. Poor thing. How was I was going to go away to college and leave her behind?
I kissed her little shoulder, wanting her to know I loved her. She was the only one who didn’t look at me any differently. “I love you, Dori.”
“Love you, Ris,” she responded. It made me so happy to be there with her.
When we made it to the kitchen, it was hard to get her to let me go, so I could make her pancakes or “cakes” as she called them. Music played out of the built-in speakers around the kitchen. I moved with her in my arms.
“Dori?”
“Hmm?”
“You know you have to let go of me so you can eat your cakes, right?”
“No,” she whined. She was clingy in the mornings, which always put a smile on my face.
When her favorite song came on, Dori squealed. “Why Don’t We Just Dance” © by Josh Turner blasted through the speakers causing giggles to erupt from my tiny little sister.
“Dance, Ris, dance!”
I couldn’t object. I removed the final pancake, placing it on the plate. I turned the stove off and said, “Whatever you want princess.”
I grabbed her little hand in mine as she looked at me with joy in her eyes. Mom played this song repeatedly, so she knew every word. We moved to the music, the laughter coming out of her and the smile on her face, I would trade everything and move the world just to see it all the time.
“You made pancakes,” Mom spoke as she came into the kitchen.
I turned to face her, still dancing with Dori. I nodded. “I did. You can get some. Morning, Mom.” I went over to her, leaning down as I kissed her forehead.
The smile on her face was blinding. She loved it when I called her Mom.
“Morning, Paris. Now, you need to eat and get ready for school. Give her here.” Her hands extended out to get Dori, but Dori wrapped her arms around my neck in a death grip.
“It’s going to be one of those mornings,” I said.
Mom rolled her eyes at me, then narrowed her eyes at Dori.
Dori looked back at her after placing her head right under my neck. This kid killed me with her cuteness, I swear.
“Pandora, I’m your mother, not him,” Mom pouted.
Dori must’ve given her a facial expression that made Mom smile.
“Fine, just until after breakfast. Then, you’re mine, baby,” Mom said.
I chuckled as I moved about getting our breakfast ready, knowing I had to feed myself and Dori. She wasn’t going to let me go anytime soon.
Imogene
I hadn’t seen Paris Troy all week long, and it had my nerves going crazy. I didn’t want to be that girl who searched for him, but that’ what I did sometimes. I gazed out the window as the bell rang for last period to begin. I stared at nothing, wishing my parents had come back when I called them the morning after my birthday, but they were on a cruise. I tried my siblings to tell them what happened, but there was no answer. My parents were more cowardly than I was led to believe. I had been unceremoniously informed my dad had taken money from his boss who was a part of the Irish mob. They showed up looking for their money. I had never been so scared in my entire life.
Things I had never known were being revealed about my parents, such as how my siblings weren’t related to me. That’s why they never stayed around. The moment they hit eighteen, they were free. Literally free. My parents were paid to watch and raise kids for those who couldn’t pay the mob. The kids served as a reminder of money owed. If those men had never shown up to the house, I wouldn’t have known we weren’t related. We had the same skin color, we looked similar, but the significant difference was I was my parents’ seed, and those Irish men made sure I didn’t forget it when they served me an ass whooping I would never forget.
At the memory of my beating, I flinched and subconsciously held the left side of my ribs where I had gotten the wind knocked out of me. The men gave my parents two weeks to pop up or else they would be back.
I shut my eyes, not wanting to relive the physical and mental threat from the one who squeezed my throat while kissing me roughly and drawing blood from my lips. Nor did I want to remember what he said to me before throwing me back on the floor. I felt so violated I stayed in all weekend, shaking at every little sound coming from around the house. I tried to reach family members but realized I was truly alone in this world.
I shivered. Not wanting to listen to anything the teacher was talking about, I felt like I could just disappear. Until I heard him speak, forcing my eyes open.
I could never forget Paris’ Troy’s voice. From the deep baritone that caressed my skin, as though it had the ability to touch me. “Hey,” was his greeting.
It took me a moment to turn around. I was careful to not expose the bruises on my thighs and to make sure I hid my pain. Slowly, I turned to face him as he sat in front of me. What the hell? My eyes widened. Paris didn’t look like Paris. His hair was a different color, darker drawing more attention to his eyes.
I tilted my head, blinking and unable to speak. I found the ability to say, “Did you dye your hair? You look bigger, taller. Am I seeing things?”
Though my statements were directed towards him, they were meant rhetorically. But he didn’t answer me. He just stared at me as if he could see through the makeup on my face. Through the fake bravado I put up. He looked as if he wanted to say something. Then, he shut his eyes and opened them again with his gaze less intense and more relaxed.
“No, I didn’t dye it. I woke up one day and this was the color. And yes, I did get bigger. You like?” He winked and turned away.
Oh God, the butterflies were back, hitting me harder than they did the last time I saw him. I smiled even though it hurt me so damn much to do so. I focused my attention to the teacher until my phone vibrated on my desk. It was a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Pretty little chocolate.
My entire body shook. I grabbed my cell and my bag and ran out of the room, despite the teacher calling after me. It hurt, but I ran. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but then an arm wrapped around my waist.
I panicked and screamed. “Let me go! Please! Please!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. The arm wrapped around me didn’t loosen up. If anything, it got tighter. I began to frantically cry.
I didn’t want to be taken like this. I didn’t want to work for the Irish mob or be around the guy who looked like he preferred I screamed anyway. I tried to catch my breath, but it seemed impossible.
“Imogene! Stop fighting me! I’m trying to help!” I heard Paris’s voice in my ear. I tried to calm down, but my nerves were too high strung.
I shut my eyes. When I opened them, I realized I was on the ground engulfed in Paris’s arms surrounded by an entire hall filled with students who heard me lose it. If no one knew me before, they knew me then.
****
“Who did this to you?” Paris paced back and forth in front of me while I sat on the bleachers on the football field.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.
He stopped dead in his tracks, narrowing his eyes at me. “You think I can’t see the bruises on your upper thighs, the faint marks on your neck, or notice the way you winced when I wrapped my arm around you?”
I instinctively reached out and caressed my neck.
“This… I can figure it out myself. Don’t worry about it.” I glanced away from the expression that changed his beautiful face to menacing.
“So, you’re not going to tell me?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want anything to happen to him. This was my parents’ fault, and I was unfortunately brought into it. I stared off into space until Paris spoke, sounding as if he were answering a call.
“Who’s this?” he spoke gruffly.
Is that my phone? I stood up off the bleachers wondering when he even got my phone. I made my way to him and reached for it, but I had forgotten our height difference.
He dodged me and continued talking. “Kelly? As in Declan Kelly? So, you’re his son, huh? Alright, the owner of this phone is under the protection of the Troys, and since you and your boys put your hands on her, meet me at Lust tonight. We have matters to discuss about issuing warnings to friends of mine.”
I shuddered at the menacing and authoritative tone of Paris. I stood there unable to move, not because of anything other than the fact he called me his friend. I had never detested any word more in my life.
He handed me my phone while I stood there dumbfounded.
“You consider me a… friend?” I finally asked.
“Yes,” he said without much thought.
The word was despicable to me, but my insides warmed at having someone consider me a friend. Someone I could reach out to just to talk, laugh and hang out with. But, did it have to be my crush?
I sighed, coming to the realization that I was glad to have Paris Troy in my life, even if it was just as friends.
“They… they won’t bother me anymore?” I stammered the question after a moment of silence.
“Nah, but just to be safe, you’re coming with me to my house.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you’re under my protection now. Let’s go.” He didn’t turn back to see if I was coming or not. Paris Troy must’ve known from that moment on I would follow him anywhere.
Chapter 5
Paris
I wasn’t sure how the old man was going to take me bringing Imogene to the house. I texted him, asking him where he was. I was glad he was home, so I could talk to him there. When I parked in Imogene’s driveway, she turned to face me.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
I refused to look at her for fear, if I saw those bruises again, I would act instead of waiting around. “Go pack a bag with the stuff you need and come out,” I commanded.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose on your family. I really don’t.” I heard the concern in her voice, but she had nothing to worry about. I would convince the old man, even if he didn’t approve at first.
“Go get your things,” I said with more force than needed.
“Okay…” she replied in a small voice. I knew she only accepted because not being alone was the best solution.
When she got out of my Jeep, I dialed my old man.
“What’s going on, kid?” his voice boomed through the Jeep’s speakerphone.
“Dad, I need you to agree to this, please.”
“Agree to what? What’s going on? You were being cryptic through text.”
“I can’t say everything, but we need to take her in. They hit her dad. They beat her, and if you see her bruises, you’d be pissed too.” I was beginning to get angry again. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down.
“Who hit who? Who is this she? Paris don’t pull what you did when you were fifteen. Not now, kid.”
“Dad!” I yelled frustrated. “I’m not acting like I did when I was fifteen. I’m different, and you know this. I would never come to you if I knew you weren’t going to see it like I had. Her parents ran off and left her to get beat up by Kelly’s men, all because they stole from them. She had to face the repercussions of their actions, Old Man! That’s not right!” I let it all out. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at him, but he didn’t get it.
The line was silent for a moment.
“If I wasn’t your father, I’d respect the authority in your voice. But since I am your father, don’t ever yell at me again, Son. Bring her here, and let’s figure this out. You care about her?” he asked just as Imogene emerged from her house, locking the door.
“There is a need to protect this girl, Dad. I don’t know where it came from, but I want to make sure nothing bad ever happens to her again. So yeah, I care about her.”
