First. I do not celebrate Eid but for those that read my stories and DO:

Second. Please don't spread hate about people you guys don't know from your home, hiding behind a keyboard. Everyone is here to enjoy the words I'm writing. Everyone has an opinion and I understand that but don't judge a person you don't know. All I'll end up doing is just taking my stories down.

Third. I mean to get this out sooner but... I was typing and 5,641 words turned to asterisks and I lost EVERYTHING. Like it saved over and it was just blah. And this wasn't prewritten either. So after being angry for like five minutes I just said, "I'll write something better than I had." So hopefully this is a good chapter to you guys reading :)

Fourth. This story has 1million reads :) So thank you all!!!

Chapter 45 – Creando Stateram (Samson Conrad POV) Pt.2

History always had a way of repeating itself. For some reason lessons were never truly learned and those who did absorb the truth many times it was because it impacted them in some way. No one really explores the underlying causes though.

There was always this get them before they get us mentality that fear and hate brought to the table. Fear and its brother, hate, they had the ability to decimate families, towns, cities, and even countries. Still, somehow, those two go-to-instincts, when making decisions, are the ones most listened too.

When mom and dad brought Fatima into our home, they asked us. Check with us before making that final decision and not a one of us saw a true problem with her being welcomed in. Granted, with me, I had already made such a show of being an incredibly callous individual that I had to work – not that I minded – to really make Fatima see that I was not a bad person.

There was no excuse for my behavior in my eyes especially when my attack was unprovoked.

Her living with us, in my eyes I saw it as a chance to right my wrongs.

At that family meeting, I remember my little sister asking what we should tell people when they asked about Fatima? Quickly asking then, when or if we were going to tell her about our family being werejaguars? Would dad be telling the other families about Faith?

I think from the beginning my dad knew that something was different about Fatima. Sure she scented close to a Fae, but it wasn't that full scent we had been trained to point out. There was something else, unique about the thin girl with slightly too big for her face eyes and ears.

As more heartbeats fill the classroom, my eyes survey the physical damage of the room. My uncle Trevor barks out orders to the two individuals that he brought with him. Though I somehow tune them out, meeting my mom's worried gaze.

I look to the corner and find Lennon just cowering in the corner her face ashen, as she rocks back and forth.

Why isn't uncle Trevor taking Lydia to the hospital? I think frowning. He's doing no more than what I had done, granted now he and the man across from him was using a portable defibrillator.

My vision blurs and when I look towards the door, I see my father, our eyes immediately locking before he breaks the contact, looking downward. So I do as well.

Shocked, I find that I'm holding Fatima's good hand. Technically, it was still healing from her burns but she wasn't in much pain. When did I take her hand in mine? I wonder absentmindedly, not that I'd dare let it go right now either.

"Hey! My daughter is in there!" I hear Nick Romas – Lennon's father. Looking behind my father as he enters the room that feels as though it's getting smaller I see our Headmaster.

A shifter himself.

"Sweetheart? Lennon," he whispers going as ashen as the girl in the corner when he first surveys the extent of the damage he found. My uncle Trevor doing what I had been, mom standing above him, and the group of men entering from the door in the back, already trying to undo the damage before humans saw it I'm sure.

Shakily, I move closer, focusing on Fatima.

Taking in everything about her. Her hair was half up and down today. The curls I loved had string? Yarn and thread in some places. Her clothes, at least the bottom part of her shirt seemed damp. There were a few scratches on her face, and when I went to examine her hand, I note the imprints of crescent shaped indents on her forearm.

Across from me, Imogen, who probably knew what happened from the start, was leaned over Fatima's face. All her focus was on my girl. Carefully and with so much attention and worry that I could not understand coming from Imogen, she used the underside of her hand to caress Fatima's face.

From lips to closed eyes, before slowly, lifting her lids again.

Even in the chaos, her relief is mine as well.

Green.

"How could this happen here? Who is that girl Ansel?" Nick Ramos demanded practically holding Lennon up, her face like Imogen and Fatima's were covered in scrapes. "At school?" Nick continues not even giving dad a chance to respond to his first inquires.

"Why did you not inform everyone the girl was a danger to us?" he asked just under his breath and that made me frown. Listening to everything, tuning some other things out I catch when breathing heavily, Luca Romas enters the room.

I gaze at him briefly, watching as he first finds Lennon, but Imogen and I are partially hidden.

His eyes dart around the room, and in that moment I know.

The wild – concern – crazed look in his eyes isn't for his sister. He's already found her but he is still searching.

His questioning eyes nearly miss connecting with mine. I make no move to even acknowledge what I know of his relationship with Imogen by calling him over or pointing out she's right here. Next to the person that makes me look like he does now – Fatima.

Coming forward, I see him looming over Imogen, before he scoots down, "Are you okay?" the distress for her great. It's in his voice. I cannot turn off my ears. I'm not necessarily listening in, but Imogen is less than a foot from me. Voice tight, I look around before doubling my focus on Fatima.

With so much going on at once I take it all in slowly, though it is anything but. "Fatima wake up," I whisper shakily, aware that next to me, there wasn't even the tiniest sound coming from Lydia.

"Tutum est," Imogen whispers so quietly that over the noise only we - Luca and I - could possibly hear her. "Non intellego," Luca whispers back and the part of me that could only somewhat understand what was being said tried to piece the words together.

She is safe? What did Imogen mean by that? Why would they care if Fatima was safe or not?

I do not understand, Luca responded.

Well? Neither did I.

Minutes slip by and when uncle Trevor hangs his head, hands fisted at his side, my heart stops, my stomach turns. My vision blurring more as mom covers her mouth, sinking down to the floor behind uncle Trevor.

"Faith," Imogen whispers again.

"She killed her," Lennon whispered cutting every other sound. I glance at Fatima, and then down at the crescent shaped marks, the scene I walked in on... no. "No she didn't Lennon," Imogen says shaking her head as she tries standing. Wobbly, Luca catches her when it appears she cannot stand.

If Luca had pulled away from Imogen after maybe five seconds, the embrace might have looked normal. A concerned friend maybe? But his hand stays on her side just a bit too long for anyone with eyes to avoid the closeness between them.

There was no awkwardness.

"Luca!" Nick snapped, his eyes ready to fall out of their sockets. "Not here!" My eyes widen and I look down at Fatima. He knows? Unable to full care, I push myself to stand and though my heart is crushed, I concentrate on Fatima.

"Everyone go to the house now," my father orders just as I slip my hands under Fatima's back and knees, lifting her and cradling her against my chest. My lip trembling, I don't look down at the ground when leaving, fear of falling to my knees like my mother.

Her mouth covered doesn't stop the sobs from coming out, just muffles the sound.

"I'm taking my daughter home," Nick says, disobeying my father who just levels him with a stare. "My house Nick."

I've taken all of four steps when my mom swallows thickly, the tears falling from her eyes only makes the lump in my throat grow. "Is she alright? Does Trevor need to look at her?" she asks concerned and a piece of something shifts inside me. I gaze back at mom in admiration.

The care in her voice both awe's me and hurts.

"Everyone back to the house, that's final."

I frown looking at my father.

"I-I don't know how this started dad, but Fatima didn't – she isn't..." I felt wretched inside. If it's not Fatima's fault, that made it Lydia's, but she was gone. "It's not Fatima's fault," Imogen says stronger than the last time coming to stand at my side.

Dad looks from me, then to the unconscious girl in my arms, finally at Imogen.

As Lennon and her father make way to leave, she turns to her friend, "Come on Imog-"

"No," Nick says coolly, "she can ride with one of the Conrad's," my father who was holding his emotions inside frowned. "Luca, let's go," Nick adds and it's just enough for me to realize that the cat was out of the bag when it came to daddy Ramos.

Only caring about getting Fatima out of here, I clutch her tighter to me when I feel her tense in my arms. "Can you drive us?" I turn Luca slightly, not ready to drive home with Fatima just next to me.

.

.

.

__________

© 2016 roxann_season All Rights Reserved

This is a heavy but cute chapter so I was reading your comments from a chapter or two ago and thought I'd post this one here just to put a smile on your face cause it sure made me laugh.

when I'm writing, because I usually bounce ideas off myself, I just stare at the wall and today I was doing that. My mom comes in the room and she's like "what could the wall have possibly done to you?" So I explain that I'm working through ideas and just as I'm going to run it by her she's like, "I'll get you a fish, you can talk to it." #LonelyProblems

So Yara... you aren't alone.

.

.

.

FINAL POLL: who thinks Cynthia set Lydia up to fail?

A= YES

B= NO

.

.

.

me thinks Daddy Ramos knows... lol okay I'm being silly, it's 4am though... bye.