Chapter 15 Royce
ROYCE
Fatigued, my mind finally allowed my body to give in to a deep slumber.
No flashes of haunted memories assault me for once, and instead my eyes were only greeted by darkness, and it welcomed me with open arms. As the darkness fades, light rises, forcing my eyelids to flutter.
Yawning, my arms rise and my legs stretch. My body prepares for the aches and sharp pain to follow, but strangely enough, it does not.
Placing my arms back down next to me, I turn my head in a state of confusion.
“Auk ria, spur notra. Sheeb mortus nor vine. Auk ria, spur notra. Sheeb mortus nor vine.” Soft whispers and sharp hisses alert me to the fact I am not alone.
White granulated substances are next to me, and my peripheral vision notices that my hair is now clean, shiny, and fanned out.
Flickers of light bounce off the wall, and the warm aroma of candles invades my nose.
Swallowing hard, my breathing becomes heavier as my heart rate speeds. All he would have to do is see my chest rising and falling quicker to know I am awake. But as I wait, no harsh footsteps follow.
My head turns, my neck creaking, and my eyes continue to observe.
“We summon you to protect our own,” a strong female voice chants before it all stops. My eyes shift, waiting in this awkward silence, but nobody moves.
Bewildered, my hands attempt to plant themselves firmly on the floor, acting as an anchor so I can rise. But as they are expecting to grip the boards, they fall right past them and are only met with air and space. The fuck?
Panic invades my thoughts, and my legs and feet flail like I am riding an imaginary bike.
I am levitating.
Wide-eyed and shocked, the most polite words that I have ever uttered leave me, “I would like to come down now, please.”
Tiny giggles follow before I am left to the silence once more.
With a furrowed brow, my nostrils flare.
They changed me; my clothes are different.
I am in an ankle-length silk nightdress that is too long for me, delicate gold anklets meet the hem, and my bare feet have toe rings.
Moving my gaze up my body, the bruising has vanished, and as I wiggle my fingers, the broken bones are healed.
“And from our dust and ashes to your body and soul, we will survive the night, and their darkness shall never come for us!” Both voices unite and declare in unison, and by the time they reach their last word, my body is safely back onto solid ground.
And with great pride, one of the voices states, “Our baby girl, you are free.”
My torso jolts up, my back straight as my breath is swept away from me.
Tears are freely flowing. I’m not sure when they started, but I make no effort to control them or stop.
Hands tremble, and as I tuck my long, wavy hair behind my ears, my head tilts toward one of the shadowy figures standing behind white candles and the circle of what looks to be salt as she fills in the gap for me.
Making my way up her body, the emotions releasing on the outside are now swelling internally.
White hair and her bright smile greet me.
“Mommy.”
She doesn’t move, but her face softens. “Yes, baby girl. Mommy is here.”
Shaking, the single word trembles out from between my dry lips. “How?”
“The spell’s been lifted. The old bitch is dead.”
I know that voice.
Nearly giving myself whiplash, my head spins, and before me are a set of bare feet with royal purple toenails that match my eyes.
“Mom?” I murmur in disbelief, trying to figure out if this is another game of deception, compliments of my captive.
Puzzled, my mind is raddled. Seeing is believing, so I’ve been told, but these eyes have seen so many lies, it’s nearly impossible to differentiate it from truth.
Looking up, her black hair welcomes me home, alongside her mischievous smile.
“She suppressed you, baby girl. Then banished us to a land far away from you. We would try and penetrate through it… and we tried so, so hard.”
Mommy’s head falls as she comes to stand next to Mom, who comforts her.
Scurrying to my feet, I delicately step over the salt and stand before the two strong women who helped shape me, mold me, and loved me. Another wave of emotion washes over me, and I know I am a blubbering mess, but it doesn’t matter. I finally feel whole.
Their faces have the same smile lines and wrinkles, that I proudly gave them. Both sets of eyes bring me comfort and safety, the way they would when I looked for them as a child.
I’ve missed them so much.
Raising my arms, I go to hug them but stop myself midway as I realize they are here, but they are spirits. Would I just fall through them? I just want my moms. To be overwhelmed by their scents and embrace.
“We can touch you, but you cannot touch us,” Mommy tells me as she wraps her hand around my wrist softly before flipping my arm over and calmly asking, without judgment, “Are you okay? What can we do to help?” I don’t need to look down to know what she is referencing.
My cuts. My scars. Years of unimaginable pain.
Nodding, I respond timidly, “I am now. Don’t worry.” And it’s the truth.
My soulmate is dead. That scar will never heal, but that scar runs deep, invisible, and that is the only one I will pick at daily just to feel him again.
Changing the subject, I say, “What were you doing to me just now? How am I like this?” I question, confused while trying to take my mind off other things.
“Healing you. He did a number on you, baby girl.” Mom pauses, her lips quiver, and her fists ball. “But he will never win.”
This is all I have wanted: love, compassion, worry, rules within reason, and respect.
It takes a moment, but Mom’s message finally becomes clear. It’s ominous and intriguing, and perhaps permission? My brow rises in excitement.
“We also placed a protection spell on you; he nor anyone else can do harm to you anymore. His mind games will no longer work. You hold the power now,” Mommy continues where my mom left off. Confused, I don’t understand. I hold no power; I have none. It vanished the day they died.
“The curse, the suppression, has been lifted. You are free.” Mom reaches forward, her finger glowing white as it pierces through my chest. It’s like a ball of energy because I suddenly become hyperaware as her touch warms me.
“All you have to do is remember.” She says it like it’s easy, but it’s been well over a decade.
“Like guiding lights, you will see. Trees that whimper now dance for thee.”
Chuckling, because I must look petrified, “It’s like riding a bike,” Mommy jokes, reassuring me as I roll my eyes.
Mom removes her finger from my chest, the glowing ball now missing. Inquisitively I look upon her, but I am only provided with a wink in response.
“This is where we leave you. We promise we will be back. Where you go, we follow. But you must do this part on your own. The reward will be sweeter that way.”
I choke up. “But I only just got you back.” They can’t leave me; I still need them.
Leaning forward, both my moms kiss my forehead and whisper, “I love you,” before fading away.
My hands lace through my long locks, growling in frustration. This is so fucking unfair.
“ROYCE!”
My body reacts, freezing in fear.
Prince’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Rage swells beneath the surface. Closing my eyes, I focus the rage on to remembering, centering the energy to bring me what I need to end this hell I’ve been living in.
Soft words slither from my lips, words I’ve not ever spoken before yet feel so familiar as they leave me.
“Seeping slowly, bodies tremble. Flickering souls, you are in trouble.” Heat radiates from me.
I can feel beads of sweat building on my skin.
Raising my hands, a purple glow illuminates off my palms, and I’m startled.
“Seeping slowly, bodies tremble. Flickering souls, you are in trouble.” I repeat those two sentences, and the flames from the candles extinguish, and the salt, which once surrounded my sleeping body, rises, twisting around me and causing my gown to flutter and my hair to fan out.
Amazed, I don’t stop, only building further momentum.
I say it one final time. “Seeping slowly, bodies tremble. Flickering souls, you are in trouble.” Flashes of my youth join, moving so rapidly I am barely able to register it all.
What I gather is it’s moments with my moms, as they would teach me spells and magic.
It’s my memories flooding back to me. Overwhelmed, I want to scream, but I worry Prince would hear me.
I allow my body to absorb it all. “Please give me strength.” I ask shamelessly.
Then, with a final gust, the salt falls, and images fade, but my purple glow remains.
Rushing to my vanity, I bend over and take myself in.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper to myself.
It’s like none of this torture ever happened if you were to look at me.
My healing process has begun. This is only the beginning, a tiny piece of what it will take, but it helps so fucking much.
And then I am caught off guard because of my eyes.
Leaning forward, my lashes brush against the reflective glass.
My eyes aren’t dull anymore; they shine bright with renewed life.
They captivate me.
I am beautiful.
Stepping back, I know I don’t have much time, but I take myself in once more in disbelief, then I reassure myself, “It’s going to be okay. I’m ready; I can do this.”
Feeling confident on my tiptoes, I twirl toward the door and open it without a second thought, because for the first time since my moms died, I finally feel alive.