Forever Mine

Forever Mine

Hello readers! I'm back and hopefully
better. Haha. I'm in the process of revamping my stories and I'm
going to start with this one. It's going to be a lot different than
the first time it was posted. My writing style has changed and after
rereading what I posted I found most of my work to be a little silly.
I'm currently in the market for a beta so if anyone is interested,
please let me know. That also means that this chapter has only been
edited by me, so if you see any mistakes please let me know so I can
fix them.

Pairings: Loki/Gwen, Sadie/Mark

Warnings: Romance, Angst, Language,
Action…If I can think of anything else, it will be at the top
of the each chapter. Hope you enjoy the story.

Also, as far as I know, the town that
this story takes place in, doesn't exist.

Chapter One:

The day started out like all the
others in my boring life: wake up, shower, get dressed, eat
breakfast, say goodbye to my family and then head out the door to
meet Mark. Whether it was for school, work or just to hang out, Mark
always drove since I didn't have a car. But, I'm getting ahead of
myself. My name's Gwen Jaden Smith-Taylor. I'm 22, 5'5",
120lbs, with green eyes, a slim toned body, and long thin black hair
that reaches my lower back. Well, my name is actually Gweneth, a
girl's name. I know. It's something I've been teased about for as
long as I can remember. One of my friends – best friend
actually – asked me once why I just didn't just use my middle
name or make up something else, and I told him that I kept it because
it was the only thing my mother ever gave me. He hasn't brought it up
since.

I never knew my mother. She left me
at the hospital after I was born and then they gave me to the nuns at
the Rockwell Church Orphanage just as soon as I was well enough to
leave. I stayed there until I was adopted at 15; that's when the
nuns told me about my mother and the circumstances of my birth. Or,
to be more precise, they told the people who adopted me and I just
happened to be in the room. I didn't learn anything good about my
mother. They said she was a drug addict and a whore, so it's not like
I'm too upset about not being with her; that's no life for a kid.

Apparently, I was born early at 32
weeks by Cesarean section. This was due to a combination of factors:
where she lived, how she lived, her choice of profession and her drug
use before and during her pregnancy – booze, cigarettes,
cocaine, heroine...the list went on. She didn't care about the
dangers, I guess.

She was unconscious when she had been
brought in by the paramedics, so as far as the hospital knew, she
never had any prenatal care or checkups during the pregnancy. She had
gone into premature labor when one of her 'clients' got a little too
rough. When the paramedics and police arrived, she was naked,
bleeding and passed out on the bed. Since she had an arrest record,
the cops at least were able to provide the hospital with a name:
Gwendolyn Pearce. Of course, they also said it was most likely just
an alias she used. The only time she spoke to the hospital staff,
was when she named me. Gweneth Jaden. Then, she snuck out when no one
was looking. After Sister Ann told us about what happened before and
when I was born, the first thing that popped in to my head was: So
that's why I'm so short. A
ridiculous thought, I know, but I had been in shock.

I was super tiny and had to stay in
the hospital for quite a while after being born. I was unable to
eat, breath, or stay warm on my own. Other than that though, I was
remarkably healthy. The nuns said it was an act of God. I remember a
surprised laugh escaping me when I heard that and I also remember the
dirty look Sister Ann gave me right after. I couldn't help it
though, I just didn't believe in God anymore. There was just too much
bad shit happening in the world for him to be real.

I don't think about her as much as I
did when I was younger, but sometimes, thoughts of her creep up on me
when I least expect it and I wonder how she's doing. I wonder if she
ever turned her life around and got a real job. I wonder if she found
someone special to love and got married. Did they have kids? Do I
have a brother or sister out there? Those thoughts are harder for me
to deal with than the alternative, because it meant that she had
moved on without me. It meant that she still
didn't want me. Then I wonder, maybe she hadn't gotten better.
Maybe she's still on drugs and having sex for money. Is she even
still alive?

I have no idea who my father is. Most
likely he was one of her clients. Chances are, I'll never know.
Thoughts of my dad don't bother me as much as thoughts of my mom. I
think it's because he probably didn't know that I existed. If he had,
maybe he would have taken me in after I was born. It's doesn’t
matter though. The family I have now is great.

The day I was adopted, was the best
day of my life, and one that I thought would never come. Rockwell
Church Orphanage was a small place that took in no more than 50 kids
at a time. I was the oldest kid there and after watching one kid
after another find families, I had given up hope that I would ever
get picked. So I always helped out the people that came to the
orphanage by telling them about all the kids there, and that's
exactly what I did the day I was adopted. Boy was I ever shocked
when they chose me over little 4 year old Blake with his blue eyes
and sweet smile!

Well, it turned out that they
couldn’t have any more kids of their own and they wanted
someone for their son to hang out with, and thought that I was
perfect. So that was the day that I went home with Mr. and Mr.
Smith-Taylor. That's right, Mr. and Mr., and they are the best dads
ever. Their son Chris was born through a surrogate and the deal she
had with my parents was to give birth and then move on. She was only
interested in the money. Chris was my age but that's where any
similarities between us ended. He was 5'7", 140lbs, had shaggy
brown hair, blue eyes, and was well muscled. He was also really into
sports and had been one of the few freshmen on the varsity wrestling,
baseball and football teams at our high school.

We got along really well from the
start; he became my first friend, and when I started my freshmen year
a week after being adopted, he became one of my protectors. I met
Mark Smithers on my first day of school and he became my best friend
and 'minder' as he liked to call himself. He said I needed minding
because I was forgetful and a klutz. I had two left feet that were
unable keep me from running into stuff. He was right of course, I had
two left feet that were always getting me into trouble. But, he said
it with such loving affection that I couldn't be mad at him.

Our school was pretty small and I had
a few classes with Chris, but I was in every class with Mark. This
turned out to be very helpful because Mark was always around to warn
off the bullies; and boy could he do it too! Mark started school late
as a child and he had just turned 17 freshman year. He was a big guy,
6 foot even, large muscles, spiked blonde hair, and big green eyes.
He was one of those people who were nice to everyone, great at
sports, popular, well liked, and had tons of charm. He was able to
use that charm of his to convince our guidance counselor to put us in
the same classes together all throughout our high school years.

My first class as a Rockwell freshman
was art. I loved to draw and paint, and I have to say I'm pretty
good at it. I had started school in the middle of October so everyone
in the class already knew each other by that point. The teacher put
me in the only empty seat left, which happened to be the one next to
Mark, and told us that we would be partners for the rest of the year.
Our assignment had been for us to draw each other in a natural
setting and it was to be turned in at the end of the week. We decided
to go to the park that day after school and work on our project out
by the lake. During that week we got to know each other really well
and became fast friends. And now four years later, you hardly ever
see one of us without the other.

------------------------------------

As I walk out the door, I see Mark's
truck sitting at the end of the driveway. He got out and came around
to the passenger side to open my door as soon as he saw me coming.

“Hey there Gimpy. What's up?”
Mark asks, giving me his megawatt smile. I smiled back and handed him
my crutches. Two left feet remember?

“Not much. You ready for today?
We're getting that shipment of school books in sometime this
morning.” I asked, letting him help me up into his truck. This
would have been quite a task for me to do even without a broken leg.
Mark's truck is huge and I'm still stuck at the same 5'5 I was the
day we met. I haven't changed much other than I can now add 'toned'
to my body type. Mark and Chris had talked me into trying out for the
track team, which I'm surprisingly good at, despite the two left
feet. It made absolutely no sense to me.

“I sure am. Can't wait to get
started.” Mark said, giving me a big smile. He hopped into the
drivers seat and started the truck.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. Mark
was going to be unloading all those boxes by himself, but he didn't
care. He loved all types of manual labor. He was weird like that.

As we pulled away from my house, a
strange feeling came over me. Nothing bad...just strange. Something
big was going to happen today and it was going to be life changing.
And you know what? I was right.

End of Chapter.