Making Memories #2
“You’re one to talk,” I say, grabbing a cushion and throwing it at her. She catches it, and Dad frowns at me.
“Asshat,” she counters, throwing it back with full force. I deflect it, and it goes flying, knocking straight into the chessboard.
“THEO!” both Ares and Renji shout, although Ares is the one who’s definitely pissed.
“I was winning!” Renji complains.
“Earplugs! Now!” Grandma says as she gets up. “Where are they?”
Gramps chuckles. “You’ll be fine, Kitten.”
“Right, I’m going to go get a few things done before dinner,” Ma says, laughing as she stands up.
“Need any help?” Aunty Robyn asks.
Ma shakes her head. “Nope, I will be right down.” Smiling, she leaves the room, as Jayce distractedly strums a tune, one that sounds deep and emotional.
So befitting.
Raven
I feel so worried and emotional knowing that Jayce is leaving. The boys going to the Academy was hard enough, but now… now he’s going so far away, to a dangerous place.
It’s hard to keep smiling when I’m so worried. It hurts knowing he’s hurting; Sienna is hurting, too.
I’ve been there, Liam has been there; loving one another and not going to each other… I just hope they don’t make the same mistake that we did and leave it for so long.
I grab the washing hamper as I enter Jayce’s room to grab the dirty laundry.
Jayce is smart; Sienna is smart, too. She’s headstrong, she’ll fight for him, right? She won’t let his stubbornness get in the way, right?
I shake my head, remembering the conversation we had the night before the wedding when Delsanra told me she’s going into heat.
“I’ll be fine,” Sienna says as she walks over to us. I didn’t sense her approaching, nor did Delsanra by the looks of it.
“Sienna,” I say. She takes my hand between hers and gives it a gentle squeeze.
“I will be fine,” she repeats. “Don’t blame Jayce, he… offered, but…” She blushes, and I nod, understanding.
No one would want that, not until she realises how excruciating heat can be…
“He does love you,” I say softly.
She nods. “I know, Aunty, and I promise I’ll fix things.” She hugs me tightly, and I nod, hugging her back.
“I know you will,” I whisper, rubbing her back comfortingly.
I smile sadly. They are both hurting, and I understand them both. I want them to fix things. I smile at the thought of both of them together, happy.
Then there’s Renji and his not-so-secret girlfriend. I saw the two exchanging looks at the Rossi party, the stolen looks, the lingering gazes.
I shake my head, young love.
Then there’s Theo. I am most confused by him right now. He and Heaven. I’m not able to make out what’s going on there.
I enter the next bedroom, grabbing the laundry.
The boys have barely been back, and the never-ending laundry reminds me of the days when they were young. The washing hampers were never empty. Despite trying to stay on top of it, the pile of laundry was always growing.
I miss those days.
I lean down, picking up the discarded shirt and dumping it in the hamper before I move on to the third bedroom, and then to the fourth bedroom. I walk around the room collecting the dirty laundry, reaching down for a pair of socks beside the bed, when I frown, seeing something on the floor.
“Dirt?” I murmur. But something about it is strange. The hue isn’t grey or brown or black; instead, it’s almost green.
I sniff it, unable to place the smell. It smells… wrong.
I can’t explain it.
What is this?
Placing the hamper down, I get down on my knees and lift the bed sheet. Peering underneath the bed, I realise the dirt or whatever it is, is inside a large square wooden tray. I drag it out from under the bed to get a proper look.
My heart skips a beat the moment my eyes land on it. This…
I don’t need to be a witch or have any special abilities to know that there is something wrong with this.
The more I stare at it, the more my stomach knots with unease.
In the centre, there’s a lock of hair, cocooned in stained rope.
Five strings spread from the lock of hair and are pinned in five different directions across the board.
There are unfamiliar symbols written across the board, around the lock of hair, and where the five ropes are pinned down.
I don’t need to sniff the board to know that the writing and the stains on the rope are blood.
Dread pools cold and heavy in my gut. This… this shouldn’t be here...
Why is this here?
Did someone put it here?
No.
A thought crosses my mind, and my chest tightens.
I shove the board away and lean down again, peering into the shadows beneath the bed. At the very back, crushed sheets of paper catch my eye. I lie flat on my stomach, my arms aren’t long enough, so I squeeze beneath the bed, grunting as I grasp the sheets and drag them closer with my fingertips.
My hands begin to tremble as I smooth them out and look them over.
“Goddess…” I whisper.
They’re diary entries, but not just any entries; they’re fuelled with rage and resentment, written with hatred. The pen strokes are angry and sharp.
Once again, he’s the favourite child. The goody two-shoes. The perfect one. Sometimes, I just wish he would drop dead.
I gasp shakily; the room seems to spin as I look at another page.
When they die, I will rejoice. On their blood, I will dine.
My ears ring, my heart slamming violently against my ribs. The handwriting is messy scrawls, but it’s unmistakable. I would recognise it anywhere.
How could a mother not recognise her own child’s handwriting?
The pages slip from my fingers as I frantically skim through them, hate upon hate, rage consuming every page.
I hate her, I hate her with every fibre of my being. She calls herself a mother, but she’s useless and weak. What a bitch. I want her gone.
I freeze, my eyes blurring. Is this a cruel game?
I’m so consumed by the horror unfolding in my hands that I don’t notice another presence in the room until a shadow falls over me.
“What are you doing?”
I look up slowly, my throat tight, my pulse roaring. “You’re asking me? This is your room. This is your handwriting,” I whisper. My hand shakes as I gesture to the board, the symbols, the pages. “What is all this?”
Before an answer can come, a voice slams into my mind, sharp and panicked, as sirens begin to wail outside.
We are under attack. I repeat, we are under attack. Code Red – Ahhh!
A scream cuts through the mind-link.
I’m on my feet instantly, heart racing, questions clawing at me, unanswered and festering. Whatever this is, whatever I’ve just uncovered, will have to wait.
Right now, I have a pack to protect.
“We’ll speak about this later,” I say quietly, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
Then I turn and run, leaving my confusion and unease behind.
L-Liam, what’s going on? I ask, this is the worst time for an attack.
The Indomitable are here, Liam’s strained voice comes through the mind-link.
And then the night erupts into chaos.