Page 32 of The Black Lotus
Footsteps pound behind me, and I take off running as a smile stretches my cheeks from playing my favorite game; hide and seek. I collide with my mother in the kitchen and hide behind her legs, peeking out at the woman chasing me.
“Serena, are you playing hide and seek with-” my mother asks, but the woman’s name is muffled, the word statics, making it impossible to decipher. I look up at my mother’s grinning face, a younger, healthier version of her, and nod my head vigorously. My heart aches as my hands tremble, wanting to reach out and hold her and never let go. She is a memory I can’t keep, and it pains me that I’ll never hear her voice or see her face except for in my dreams. Dreams I wish could last forever.
My mother is in a beautiful red dress, her lips painted the same color, as Christmas tree earrings dangle from her ears and a reindeer apron is wrapped around her, protecting her outfit from getting covered in flour. Looking at her, I see how much I resemble my mother, and it warms my heart to know her habits didn’t die with her, that I do what she did.
She drops to her knees and dabs my nose with a little flour. “Run to Mommy and Daddy's room and hide under the bed;she’ll never find you there.” She winks, nudging me with her elbow.
Kissing her cheek, I run to my hiding spot, leaving Mommy with her hand on her cheek and a warm smile on her face.
No! Don’t go. Turn around and go back to Mom!I yell at my child self, glancing back as the woman I miss everyday fades from my vision. I don’t want to play hide and seek or find out who’s voice that is; I just want my mom. Please don’t go, Mom. I’m sorry.
I feel myself sobbing, my body shaking as I crawl under the bed. I hear my name being yelled by the angelic voice, the playful tone echoing around the house, but soon the voice morphs into panic. I cover my mouth to stifle the giggle threatening to break free. That woman always tricks me into coming out of my spot with her scared voice.Not this time. This time I know better, and I will stay put.
Her feet come into view, the black, knock off Doc Martens pacing the room, the words she is saying blocked out by a different voice screaming my name, getting louder and louder each time. The woman drops to her knees and just as her face looks under the bed, I’m jostled awake.
“Fuck! Serena,” Aster’s words rush together as he caresses my face, swiping away the tears staining my cheeks. “You started whimpering in your sleep, then crying, but we were almost home, so I sped up, and I started screaming your name, but you stayed asleep. Then your body started to convulse, and I didn’t know what was going on. Were you having a seizure or something else? Your body looked possessed.” My hand covers his heart, the muscles panicking in his chest, and his breathing finally slows. “I had to wake you up, but you seemed trapped. I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do. I was about to slap you awake, or pour water all over you but then your eyes burst open and-”
“I’m okay,” I whisper, calming my freaked out fox. “I was dreaming of a memory, but my mom was there, and…” my voice cracks, “and I didn’t want to let go again.” Tears drip off my chin, and this time I’m awake to feel them. “She looked so healthy. I can’t remember the last time my mom looked like that.”
He pulls me into him. “I miss her so much.” I cry into his arms, forgetting all about Kelsey. Forgetting all about Cynthia and her stupid vendetta against me. Forgetting everything but him.
He feels so warm, so comforting.He feels like home, like how my mom used to feel.I snuggle deeper into his arms, his silence bringing me solace.
“As much as I love holding you, I would rather do it in a more comfortable position.” My stomach growls, reminding us both I am starving. “And we need to get you fed.”
I lift my head, sniffling quietly. “You also owe me some answers,” I say, my voice no longer angry.
Getting out of the car and heading up the steps, Aster’s face crumbles, his eyes guarded and scared. “Everything is yours, Serena, and that includes my past.”
The wind whistles behind us as the door shuts, the air heavy as Aster’s past surrounds us.
FIFTEEN
ASTER
Anxiety. Is that what I’m feeling right now? It feels like I’m a piece of wood, stiff and unmoving, as emotion eats me alive like a termite buried deep within. I’m not familiar with this feeling, but there are a plethora of new emotions I continue to experience since Serena came into my life. My past with Kelsey needs to be told, but how will she react? We were just children; all we had was one another in a dark and lonely place. We were each other's solace, and even though she loved me, I never felt those feelings towards her. That should help dull the sting I know will accompany Serena’s feelings.
Walking to the fridge after our shower, I grab a bottle of water and some leftovers, the kitchen feeling tense as they heat up in the microwave. I plate the food and hand it to her along with the bottle.
“Where do you want to talk?” Serena asks, walking up the stairs towards our bedroom already having made her own choice. Not letting her assumption upset me, I follow behind, because I know she needs to be in control right now.
“Our room,” I respond, trying to grab her hand, but she snatches it away. My fingers shake as I curl them into fists.Great; she's still upset.
Serena plops on the bed, crumpling the black duvet and leaning back on her hands as she waits for me to begin my story, her food sitting behind her, cooling down.
“Are you ready for the truth?”
She levels me with an ‘are you serious’ look as she arches a brow. “I’ve been ready.”
I sit beside her, wanting to reach out but knowing she’ll refuse my touch anyway, so I keep my hands folded in my lap. “I already told you how I feel now. Everything back there was an act to get Kelsey to drop her guard.” She winces. “The Twisted Trickster,” I correct, trying to get Serena to lower her defenses, “can’t hurt us anymore. So don’t let her, or the past I shared with her, get in your head.”
Her shoulders relax as she sits up. “I’m ready.” She grabs her food and begins to eat.
?
ASTER, 10 YEARS OLD
It’s so cold.I stand shivering, rubbing my hands up and down my arms, as I wait outside with the rest of the children for the newest child to arrive. I heard the adults talking about who she is and where she comes from. Apparently, her parents were serial killers like mine, just not as skilled. I hope she doesn’texpect us to be friends with one thing in common. I don’t want to make friends, they’ll only get in the way and cause more problems for me. Unwanted problems.
