Rogue reborn

Time is a tricky thing. A day, a moment, a fraction of a second, can alter the trajectory of our lives forever.

She was born unholy, baptized in fire and given the name Mazye, but she came to call herself Rogue.

Now twenty-three years old, Mazye was wise far beyond her harsh evolving years, she had begun her life practically clawing her existence out with her bare hands. Born to a mother still locked up in prison, she had been given to her aunt Helena to raise her until her mother had been released. Helena had no children of her own, and never really wanted any. Yet, she had grown to love this quiet, rebellious child. As she grew, Mazye became more and more stubborn, willful and difficult. She waited every day for her mother to come home to her, and had refused to go to see her in prison after ten years of going back and forth.

Her mother had been convicted of the death of her father. She maintained her innocence, but the cards had been stacked against her, the evidence had been overwhelmingly convincing. Marena, her mother, was to spend twenty years in prison. But she would be released early on good behavior, if all went well.

At age sixteen, just before her mother was to be released, Mazye learned that she had died in the prison under mysterious circumstances. Next day Helena found a note thanking her for her help, but Mazye could no longer live with her, she felt suffocated, she said, and had to go.

One week later, Mazye stood leaning against a tree some distance from where they were lowering the modest coffin of her mother into the ground. She supposed that aunt Helena had done the best that she could, Mazye counted four people at the graveside, no one wanted to attend the funeral of a murderess.

Now, seven years later she has returned to Brookside. Mazye had survived the streets, she had studied at the library, got her GED on line and had gone from one miserable job to another, still it paid the tuition and kept her mobile Van home livable.

Aunt Helena had cried and welcomed her home. Maybe she would stay for a while. It was Christmas, and the entire city was alive with the dazzling lights of the season.

She saw him walking into the pastry shop across the street, he was tall, maybe five feet ten inches tall, with an outdoors charm about him. He was stockily built and had a devil may care attitude, walking deliberately, like a man who knew what he wanted and would do anything to obtain it. Mazye laughed out loud, listen to yourself, she berated herself silently. How would you know, you haven't had but one actual stupid boyfriend in all these years. After Teddy died, she had swore off men for good. But there was something about that one, he had awakened her fantasies.

Mazye was a dazzling dark beauty, medium built, athletic and completely unaware of the effect she had on men. She did not care much anyway, she thought men a great distraction and just too much of a bother.

Mazye got up from the table, slid her laptop into her handbag and quickly made her way into the pastry shop. It was brightly decorated for the Christmas season. She though the holiday was a great humbug.

"Here you are Trent, one dozen mixed boxed pastries to go. Thank you".

"Thank you Moira, always a pleasure, have yourself a fine day". He smiled, nodded, turned around and almost bumped into Mazye.

"Whoa, so sorry, almost knocked you over, there. Are you ok". He asked, his eyes twinkling and his box of pastry held high.

"I am fine, thank you". She replied, holding his eyes a little too long for comfort. He nodded again, gave her a quizzical lopsided grin and walked out of the shop.

"I wouldn't mess with that one if I were you". The shop assistant said, cupping her cheeks in her hands as they rested on the counter, her eyes dreamy and wistful.

"What, why do you say that, is he single"? Mazye asked, smiling back at her.

"I won't gossip, but you will find out if you are here long enough, and yes he is single as far as I know. Are you new in town, haven't seen you around before, small town and all".

"I was actually born here, just came back for a while after being away for a long time".

Mazye ordered some pastry and left the store, wishing the assistant Moira, a good day. Over the next few days, she casually bumped into Trent a few times, at the outdoor skating rink, the barn dance and at the library. Finally, he stopped to talk and asked if she wanted to have a drink. She accepted, they had a great time and he invited her back to his place.

That night Trent died from a heart attack. He was thirty-six years old.

Over the years Mazye had hunted down the men who had framed her mother. They had all died under mysterious circumstances.

She said goodbye to Helena and visited her mother's grave before she left, leaving a large bouquet of colorful forget-me-nots.

"I found the last one mother. Rest in peace now, I got them all". Rogue whispered.

.........................................................................................

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The prompt.