Page 94 of Dance With A Devil
Athens, Age 7½
Mommy took me to see a lady today.
She was really pretty, tall like the queens in fairy tales, with shiny black hair, golden skin, and eyes so blue they didn’t look real.
Mommy said the lady was going to help me forget.
I didn’t understand what she meant… but I nodded anyway. I always say okay when Mommy says it’s for the best. I trust her. I have to.
Afterward, we got vanilla ice cream. My favorite. I don’t like it in a cone, it drips too fast. Just a cup, with a spoon.
I liked today.
I don’t remember why I was sad before.
Mommy says that’s a good thing.
So… I guess it was a good day.
Athens, Age 8
Today’s the day we go see her again.The lady with the too-sweet smile and the eyes that stare too hard.
Mommy says there’s nothing to be scared of. That it’s just talking. Just questions. Just remembering.
But I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and make Daddy mad again.
The car ride feels like it’s dragging me toward something I can’t stop. Like the road itself is pulling me apart, one secret at a time.
I’ll have to put my journal away soon. The nice lady’s office is just up ahead. Mommy’s fixing her makeup in the mirror.
I’ll be back later. If I can.
Athens, Age 11
I sit at my vanity, legs tucked beneath me, pretending not to notice the way my mother’s fingers tremble as she brushes my hair.
She says this ritual makes my hair grow long and strong, "like roots," she whispers sometimes. Like roots that can’t be pulled up, no matter how hard the world tries.
It’s peaceful, this moment. A quiet we don’t often get. The kind of quiet that feels borrowed, like it’ll cost us later.
I catch her eyes in the mirror and wonder, again, why I don’t look like her. She says my eyes deceive me. That I see what I want to see, not what’s really there. She says things like that a lot lately.
She tells me my parents are beautiful people. Souls spun from gold and light. I write that down because maybe if I repeat it enough, I’ll believe it the same way she does.
We’re moving tomorrow. Korea to America. My dad says it’s for work. My mom smiles like it’s the answer to everything.
Gaia’s coming, too. My best friend. My sister in all but blood.
I have everything a girl could want. A family. A friend. A future.
Right?
What could go wrong?
Bye for now.
I slam the journal shut like it just told me I was never real. That final sentence? A gut punch I never saw coming. My life was a beautifully constructed lie, stitched in silk, soaked in blood.
