Victim of Circumstance | UNDER RIGOROUS EDITING

**Chapter 14 - Day In & Day Out: Rehash

||Pius||

"Oh, and make it count mister because your god damn life sure as hell depends on it." She blushed.

That made me smile.

I love that side of her. The bossy, authoritative side that shows she's not to be messed with.

I could sense her masking the ever growing blush, crawling its way onto her cheeks. God, if she just knew how beautiful she looked. I chance a glance at her surreptitiously, taking in her beautiful chestnut eyes that always weaken my resolve, breaking all the barriers in the process. They are enchanting. I momentarily forget the reason I'm here, getting lost in the rich brown.

I blink away the images starting to take shape in my head yet still continuing my inconspicuous gawking.

My eyes zoom into her nose next. Yeah, her nose. Don't judge. I know it's weird, but I always liked her nose. I don't know how to describe it. I can't put it in words but it's not too sharp, or nothing. It'll be like any normal nose to anyone but to me, it's... everything. It draws me in. Weird. I know. Don't remind me.

My eyes move down.

Her lips. God, her lips. They always make me drool because I just want to feel them against mine. They are plump, soft, and just so-kissable. Every time they stretch into a small smile, it always makes my knees buckle. I know I'm being overly-dramatic, but I learnt that denying what I feel for her will not change anything. Hating her will not alleviate the feelings from my heart. The more I fight it, the stronger it gets and I'm just done denying what I'm feeling. What changed you might be asking? Let's just say her death... no, let's paraphrase that, her almost death made me realize that it'll hurt more losing her without having her. For what reason even. She never did anything to me, in fact she never did anything to anyone. It's her skin-color that dictated every decision. The way I was raised, made believed. That people of color are and will never be my class. Us hanging together, sharing a beer around a camp fire, was an impossibility never to be entertained. They're apparently only there to sate the needs of the 'whites'. All that crap and that's how I was raised. To hate and victimized anyone of skin color. The believe that they are nothing more than peasants that will mop and always be 'our' slaves. And I don't know what made my parents... I mean my mom that racist. I don't know what happened to her to hate black people with so much ferocity, which ultimately caused her to raise us in her perfect black-people hating image. And developing strange feelings for the person who was supposed to be below me and not my equal... God, let's just say it was the hardest test and challenge endurable.

It still is.

Talking about skin-color, I like hers. I mean Valeria's. She has this beautiful caramel-brown that just perfectly suits her mouthwatering killer-body, with all the curves at all the right places, Victoria-secret-model worthy legs, not forgetting her shoulder long afro-lish brown hair that always has that spiky, freaky, weird, edge but always look tamed.

She is the epitome of beauty and I'll not change her for anything. She is just perfect the way she is. I don't mind what she is or who she is so long as I get to see her smile and look at me as if I'm the world's greatest creature ever to have walk the surface of the earth.

What a great feeling it shall be.

I sigh, closing my eyes, praying for my heart to take a recess between its thumping-glory. I don't know why I am so nervous. Okay, probably I do. She always makes my heart skip a beat and I can't deny it.

"Jesus, thank you so much for making me feel so self-conscious." Valeria huffs, covering her whole body with the blanket.

That makes me smile.