Page 75 of The Blue Rose
He lets go of Sharons hands and takes my hands in his, “You didn’t kill her, Serena; you set her free.”
I look up at him, swiping my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie. “What?”
“Your mother was dying. She asked to see you alone, so I left the room, but I stayed by the door. I had a bad feeling.” I start to sniffle, shaking my head slowly. “I heard you and your mom talking, and she begged you to set her free. To let her go. You refused at first, but then she whispered something, I couldn’t hear what. It was silent, and the next thing I heard was your mom’s heart monitor go dead. I rushed in there, but it was too late. You were crying over her with the pillow covering her face.”
My breathing evens out as I try to come to grips with everything he is telling me. Mom begged me to kill her.And I did?The pain lessens, but my head throbs and my body feels weak.Why can’t I remember that? How is this like Jessica?
He starts to cry, but continues. “I was too late. You granted your mother’s last wish and became a shell of yourself. You wouldn’t speak. You stopped going to school. You even started avoiding that awful friend, Jessica.
“Awful?” I ask.
“Yes,awful. Truthfully, I wasn’t surprised you killed her for everything she put you through.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But a couple weeks went by, and I went to bring you food, and you weren’t there. I looked all over the house, and I heard your voice coming from the room your mother died in. I walked in, and you were having a conversation with yourself. I brushed it off as your way of dealing with your grief, but then you started to act like your mom was still alive. It was like you completely forgot she died.”
I bite my nails, not believing the words coming out of his mouth.Why would I imagine my mother still being alive after I killed her? Why did I do the same thing I did with Jessica? I wish I could remember what happened.
He looks at Sharon, and she grabs his hand, squeezing it. “I didn’t want to put you back into your depression, so I let you believe Mom was still alive. Then, after Jessica died...” He swallows, like it’s hard for him to continue. “You remembered Mom was gone, but forgot how she died. You hated me, claiming I was cheating on her, but before I could explain myself , you left. You said you were going to Jessica’s. I was confused, I had just disposed of her, but I realized it was your brain's way of dealing with what you did. And… and I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to, believe me I did, but I was so worried about what would happen. You already lost yourself with your mother; I knew I needed to wait for you to remember on your own.”
I look away, unable to come to terms with what he is saying.This is all too much, I’m crazy, I really am crazy.I didn’t kill just one person, I killedtwoand one was my own mother. I need to remember.I need to understand why I snapped.If I remember, I can only hope I don't forget something else.
None of it makes any sense, yesterday Jessica was still alive. Mine and Aster’s secrets were still our own. While I am happy wewere able to let those secrets spill, the mask I didn’t even know I was wearing was slipping. The person who I truly am isn’t the person I was yesterday. I can never go back to who I was, nothing will ever be the same. I’m glad I have Aster, I know he will understand. After all, he’s a killer himself.
A killer, that’s what I am now.
Every person, all the people who always looked at me funny when I was with Jessica… it all makes sense now. The guys at the clubbothwere hitting on me.She was never there. I take out my phone, to go to her contact and notice for the first time an app I don’t recognize. I open it up and see it’s a text chain between me and Jessica.I’ve been texting and answering myself this whole time.
“I need to lay down.” I get up from the table, and my dad wraps his arm around my side, I let him as he walks me to a spare room.
He shuts the door, and I hear him and Sharon whispering before walking back to their room.
I start reading through every text, analyzing every message. I think back on all the conversations I had with myself. Every single interaction was a lie, one I wished to be true. The reason for her canceling going to the flea market was because if she came, my brain knew I would find out the truth too soon. The reason she ignored my panic text, because my brain knew I was getting closer to remembering. Since meeting Aster little by little things started to fall into place, and him revealing his secret and bringing her up was all it took for the pieces to start to fall together.
I lay down, staring at the ceiling fan going around and around for what seems like hours.
“You know what you did.”
I spring up; it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory!
My head vibrates with pain, encompassing every nerve ending in my skull. I scream, but nothing echoes around the room. Everything goes black, I fall backwards.
I remember it all.
TWENTY-SIX
SERENA
Stage four. That's what the doctor said. Only has a couple months, if that, left. My mom, the brightest, happiest person in the room, suddenly has a ticking clock, and it’s moving too fast. Everywhere she went, there was light. Even the most miserable of people couldn’t help but smile at her. She was,is, everything.
How could a person, who has so much love to give and who has helped so many people, be dying so quickly?When Mom first got diagnosed, it wasn’t this bad. She was only stage two, and the doctor had high hopes for a full recovery. She even did clinical trials to slow down the cancer.
It was working at first. She didn’t have to go through chemo anymore. That stuff only kills you faster anyway. Her color started to return, and her hair slowly started growing back. The doctor said the treatments were working with a fucking smile on his face.
So why now? Why after all this time? Why did it stop working, and how did it progress so fast? The doctors can’t explain it, and they say she’s deteriorating fast, from the inside out. I feel like my world is falling apart, that I’m dying rightalongside her, and there is no one who can stop the pain from killing us both.
Dad screams at the doctors for their mistake, the veins in his neck throbbing. Mom is pulling on his arm, trying to calm him down and holding back the tears I know are threatening to fall.
Me? I want to cry and scream, but I feel numb. Broken. Empty. I sit, unable to comprehend the doctor's words, the chaos of the room flowing through me.
My mom comes over and touches my shoulder, my heart pounding with fear. “Honey, are you okay?”
