Landed Wings

chapter 20: WHY



ASHLYNN

“Mocha, what did Ginger mean? When she said I should

follow any “whims or thought” while at the gala?”

“Ash, can we not talk about the gala?”

“Then stop avoiding the question. What did she mean? I

haven’t forgotten that you had all my stuff laid out here before you knew I was coming to stay. I haven’t forgotten that. Or that you “knew” I would overhear my mother. Or that I “knew” to open the door quietly that day. Why won’t you tell me? Don’t try to protect me, because I need to know.”

“And if you don’t like what I have to say?”

“I’m just going to have deal with it. I hate being in the dark

Mocha.”

He looks at me, indecisive. Finally, he comes to some sort of decision and shakes his head firmly.

“No. I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Why? Who told you that?”

“Ginger.”

“I won’t tell her that I know.”

“It’s not just about that, it can…affect you in ways you don’t need to be affected right now.”

“Is it just us? That have this…whatever?”

Again he hesitates.

“Come on, Mocha, I need to know.”

“Ashlynn…”

“Mocha please.”

I am almost in tears. I don’t want to cry, but I am tired. It’s

almost too much for me to take in, first I learn that one of the most prominent peace organizations in the world was

responsible for horrific acts, mostly torturing children…and that the organization is led by the woman who gave birth to me.

“Mocha.”

“Ash, what is it?”

“Why does VWP focus on torturing children?”

“Why Mocha?”

“You’re smart, I think you already know the answer, Princess.”

He says it bitterly looking down, granite anger etched into his face.

“Is that why…is that why I am the way I am? Am I an

experiment? How about you? Did the rebels know you were different? Is that why they rescued you? Why did they leave your mother behind? Were you more important?”

My words aren’t reassuring, but full of fury and feral malice. Mocha obviously doesn’t like where I’m going with this. He starts pacing back and forth.

“Don’t throw those words in my face Ash. Don’t mix it up like that. That’s not the way it was!”

“Then explain to me “how it was” Mocha. Because I know what it’s sounding like! Didn’t you allow yourself to put the puzzle pieces together? Did you choose to stay blind? How can you work with them? They’re just using you and now they want to use me too?”

He looks at me, and it’s not the sane and beautiful and sweet Mocha I’d been seeing everyday for the last few weeks. This Mocha’s face is twisted, still beautiful, still so beautiful, but ravaged too. He looks like he will cry, or rage, or both. He looks like a fallen angel. Without realizing it, both of our wings have snapped open.

“No one is using me. How can I work for them? That’s what you want to know Ash? Because they’re better than the child torturers. Because I have an opportunity to stop the VWP. Because if I don’t, my mother would have died for nothing. That’s why. Because they’re better than the woman you lived with for seventeen years, who gave birth to you, who you loved once. Because I have a chance of stopping her. That’s why. Can you say the same? Why are you here? Are you looking for an adventure before you go back to your sweet, safe SkyBound life? Are you looking for a story to tell? I know who I am and what I’m fighting for – how about you?”

He turns, stalks away and flies up into the empty sky. I run blindly in the other direction and fall down crying. My wings lift me up of their own accord, as if they know that right now, I need to taste the sweet air from above again.

Some time later, I get back to the house. It is fully dark now and Mocha is lying on the couch, sleeping. I feel like I know him. I know him so well. He is like my soul. Sometimes foreign and ruthless, but mostly just mine to have and to hold. He can’t take the words back, but he knows me too. I think we needed this. To see the ugly side of the other so that there are no surprises in the future. In those hours I flew, I missed him. I felt a pull back to where he was. I knew where he was. I turn around and snuggle beside him. I fall asleep to the rhythm of his breathing.