Damaged Beyond Repair by Kashmira Kamat (KittyKash) (motivational novels txt) 📕

The large iron gates of a Children's park loomed in front of me, I pushed the metal doors slightly. A few minutes in and I found myself enjoying the joy that a child finds comfort in. I took slow swings, appreciating the weather and the breeze which were making my teeth shatter. The sound of the creaking old swing filled the eerie silence. My mind and my soul felt at peace, to be alone like I'd always been. My parents usually left me alone in the house with a nanny when I was younger. I did fantasize about visiting a park along with them the way other kids my age did. That never happened though, what with their shitty schedule. Good ol' sad memories.

I pulled the sleeves of my jacket, as my fingers curled beneath it, I was positive I looked like an armless zombie. My inner monologue was disrupted by a dark long silhouette of a person settled in the far corner of the darkness, eyes looking in my direction. I squinted and froze.

God. No!

I recognized the tall, taut figure. It was Mr. Hot-shot demon professor with a good heart, settled on the bench, and his eagle eyes were dead on the target. Me.

I wanted to either run or hide, I don't know—maybe dial Harry Potter's number for his invisibility cloak, not that the professor had anything against me, but I felt uneasy every time we made eye contact. There was the kind of intensity in his soulful brown eyes, ready to swallow me whole.

I figured turning a blind eye towards him, wouldn't be such a killer idea, given the fact that I'd be spending the rest of my year under his watchful evil eye. I counted to ten, took a deep breath, and strode over towards him. Mr. Masters beamed at me all too knowingly like he knew that sexy smile was hard to resist and I was possibly one of those light eating moths from his class.

"Hey." He acknowledged me. I noticed he was wearing a black tee-shirt beneath the gray hoodie. The dark denim sealed the deal. He held onto a fluffy stuffed toy and still managed to look like he'd walked out of a Vogue cover, too good to be a teacher.

"Hi."

And then I thought maybe I was blind to notice the little girl playing in the sandbox right under my nose. I refused to show the least bit of discomfort as I slipped beside him in the little space that I could occupy. The kid stared back at me with huge gooey, expressive doll eyes, she grinned at me, revealing a set of two milk teeth in the front.

Oh-my-god. The moment of truth was here.

She pulled herself up with a little too much effort and caught a fistful of Mr. Master's denims for support. Her next words stabbed and pierced right through my heart, "daddy, oo izz che?" she pointed a finger at me.

"This is my student, Alana. Say hi to her, Minnie."

She walked towards me, those bouncy shiny mousy hair telling me she'd be a hot chick when she'd be twenty—and grabbed my hand. "Hi."

That was cuteness overload. "Hi." I quickly swallowed the snot as I continued, "Your daughter is really cute."

His smoldering gaze never left me, "thanks."

He picked her up and sat her on the other side of the bench; she began toying with her stuffed bunny, paying no heed to the two of us.

Minnie didn't look older than three. Damn. What a waste of youth, the fact he was a father at twenty- seven was bothering the fucking shit out of me, why couldn't I be the mother?

I decided to break the ice, "so...your wife works in the university too?"

I couldn't keep myself from being inquisitive. I was still trying to get a shot at this man. Maybe he's a widow. One could always hope.

"I'm not married." His voice was deadpan, not giving away any emotion.

Being at a loss of words I said, "Oh...uhm..."

And he spilled the entire sack or buried baggage, starting with a heart healing news for my already wounded heart that he was actually Minnie's uncle and NOT her father, unfortunate news was that her father and Mr. Master's older brother and his wife (little chick's mom) died in a car accident about two years ago, after which Mr. Masters decided to become her legal guardian and father.

"I'm sorry, I—I don't know what to say. It's quite unfortunate."

I looked down at my open palms, Thinking about how hard it must be to lose a brother and a sister-in-law who were very young.

"It's alright." He mumbled. "You didn't know."

A melodious tune rang in my ears as a mini ice-cream van came to a halt, attracting a handful of other little kids.

"Daddy, Ice-cem." Minnie waved frantically towards the pink van. "Ice-cem. Ice-cem. Ice-cem.."

"Okay. Okay. I get it." Mr. Masters climbed to his feet, his hands buried in the front pockets of his hoodie jacket. We exchanged some awkward eye contact, to me he asked, "What flavor do you like?"

"Chocolate."

His lips pulled back in an amused smile, "that's my favorite too."

We grinned at each other like fools, the spell shattered like glass when Minnie started her crazy ice-cream rant again. She was adorable, long wavy hair tied back in a pink ribbon. It brought the color on her cheeks. I picked her up and pulled her in my lap, she smiled, complying willingly. Her head leveled with my nose, her hair smelled divine, strawberries, and honey. I traced her soft creamy skin.

The professor returned with three ice-cream cones, two chocolate and the other was yellow, so I assumed it was mango. Minnie grabbed for her yellow cone in both of her hands and chomped into it.

I took a lick of my chocolate scoop, the creamy flavor melted in my mouth. Mr. Masters leaned closer and I felt the pad of his thumb wipe the smudge off my chin.

"There." That caused a zillion butterflies to take flight inside my stomach; his face was inches away from mine. He slowly curled a strand of my hair behind my ear, without taking his eyes off me. There were numerous possibilities of what could lead through such an innocent contact. Maybe it was me overthinking it, he seemed fairly distracted.