Chapter 20 #3
“Well, that's completely my fault. I forgot I had them until now.” She quickly gets to her feet. “Give me a minute to run to my bedroom and grab some photos. I think you’re gonna wanna see them.”
Her mouth widens in a huge grin, her perfect white teeth sparkling just as she rushes out the door.
I’ve never seen photos of Mom’s extended family. I knew my grandma and grandpa—and of course, my aunt. But that was it.
Minutes later, she returns, clutching a black leather binder.
“Okay, let’s see where that photo of her is.” She sits in the same spot as before and opens it, revealing a photo album.
She skips a few pages before she stops at one. “So, this was your great-grandma, Maeve, when she was just about a few years older than you.”
She points to a small black-and-white photo on my side. My eyes widen.
“Anything look familiar?”
With my mouth parted, I glance up at Mom for a second before I’m staring at…me.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “It's like looking at myself in the mirror if I were in black and white.”
“Yep. You’re her clone, and just as beautiful. You have her red hair and her beautiful eyes.” She runs a hand down my curls. “Not only was she beautiful like you, but she had a warrior's heart, and you are every bit her granddaughter.”
“I’m not a warrior.”
“Oh, yes, you are.” Mom clasps my cheek. “You just don’t know it yet.” She sighs, her affectionate expression concentrating on me. “I love you so much, do you know that? I’d do anything for you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
Gently, she leans in and kisses my forehead. “You take care of your sister while I’m gone, okay?”
I return a nod.
“I have to leave in a few minutes before it gets too dark.”
I hate that she has to go. It’s hours of driving, and it’s already after five in the evening.
She places the album on my bed and gets up. “You keep that. I want you to have it.”
With my heart beaming, I lift it up and place it against my chest. “Thank you, Mom.”
“Of course, baby.”
“Call me as soon as you get to the hospital, okay?” I tell her.
“Of course I will, sweetheart.”
But she never does. She never calls me. That was the last time I saw her.
“Iseult,” someone calls, the weight of it laced with a tremor. “Wake up.”
Arms pull at me, rousing me from the clutches of a nightmare I can’t seem to escape.
“She’s burning…help,” I cry, gasping for air, my lungs suffocating on the smoke.
My mother screams as her body turns to something completely unrecognizable, the bright orange flames dancing around her body while he laughs, a cunning kind of laugh. The kind you hear like a shadow following you wherever you go.
He’s always there, like a phantom of my worst nightmare. Except he’s very much alive, and I know he’s hoping to find me and finish what he started.
“Fuck, baby, please wake up,” Gio’s voice calls from a faraway distance, like he’s attempting to drag me back into the light, as though his heavy hand is yanking me out of the dirt one inch at a time.
I instantly shoot upright, my body trembling, my breaths firing out in gasps.
“It’s alright,” he says so calmly, it reminds me of a lullaby. “I’ve got you, Red. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”
My body feels as though it weighs a million pounds, my chest heaving and heaving. Oh, God, it hurts. Everything hurts.
His arms wrap around me, my face falling over his shoulder, my eyes staring blankly into nothing at all.
It’s as though I’m still back there, inhaling the smoke. Still trapped with her, like we were there at the same time. But in my nightmare, I’m actually with her, tied up, unable to get to her, watching helplessly as she melts into the fire.
Until her screams are replaced with silence.
Until she’s gone.
My heart races at an abnormal pace, nausea swirling in my gut. I can’t ever forget what he did to her. What he did to me. Not any of it. To this day, I’m still afraid of fire, like my mind retreats back to that young girl who was alone with a monster with no one to help her.
They tell you time’s supposed to heal even the deepest wounds. But I wear mine. They never go far. They pick and gnaw until they’re fresh as the day I got them.
“Talk to me, bambina. Tell me what I can do.” His palm grips my cheek so tight, it’s like he’s afraid I’ll disappear again.
But there’s nothing he can do to erase what’s been done. All talking about it will do is make me remember everything all over again.
Being vulnerable equals weakness. And I’m not some broken little bird whose wings need mending. I stopped being that bird a long time ago. And I grew into a woman who doesn’t have room for self-pity.
I back off of him, clearing my throat while he searches my gaze.
“Don’t,” I say, getting to my feet. “Don’t ask.”
His jaw clenches just once before he’s getting up too. “Go get your shoes on.”
I incline my head, confusion seared in my expression.
“We’re going on a date.” A deep smirk lines the edges of his mouth, and something in it feels familiar and homey, like that favorite spot in your house where you can cozy up and forget your problems.
“A date at one a.m.?” I narrow a stare.
“Just trust me.”
“I don’t.”
My heart races when we lock eyes.
I do.