"Am I dead?"
The woman-- My mother continues smiling, shakes her head, takes a نشست on the couch. Rests those summer-rain irises on me, takes in my shock, confusion, the volume of سوالات written across my expression.
"My God," she breaths, "My little girl's all grown up."
"Mom.. I don't understand," I barely notice the tears slipping down my cheeks. "You died in that fire. آپ and Dad both.." A too-hopeful thought occurs to me and I find myself glancing around the room in تلاش of the answer to the سوال I ask next. "Is he here, too?"
I wonder if I imagine the sad shadow drawn from her smile سے طرف کی the question. Then again, I must be imagining all of this.
"No. Your father and Daemian have both moved on."
"Why haven't you?"
"Because, Aryess, I wanted to talk to you." My expression must betray the terror I feel. My brain reminding me none of this could possibly exist, my دل yearning me to get closer to my mother. She pats the cushion beside her, and my دل wins. I'm sitting beside her before I realize it. Her hand brushes away the stream of loss sliding down my cheeks. The contact of her skin against mine as she brushes away the tears feels so real and I want so much for it to be.
"I know about Declan. I know about Riley. I know آپ were an assassin, that آپ were killed سے طرف کی them. Because they wanted me," I turn my head, breaking the contact before it breaks me. "What's there to talk about, Mom?"
"Everything, sweetheart آپ are so young, آپ can't understand all of this yet. And I wouldn't want آپ to."
"Why? I know it's not your fault آپ had to leave, but I need your help!" I'm suddenly frustrated, angry. My life has become a mystery and no matter how hard I تلاش for clues, all I find is riddles. "Nothing makes sense anymore!" I feel vulnerable, like my mother has cracked my دل open and thoughts, feelings, pain flows with my blood. "I don't want to keep screwing everything up." I let my head fall, shoulder slump, surrender myself and remember this is what having a mother is like. Someone who could catch آپ as آپ fell and teach آپ how to fly all over again. How did I forget this feeling in a short 8 years?
"I can't fix everything for you," she says in a mournful tone. "I'm so sorry I can't be there for آپ forever. I wish I could go back with you, but I can't do that. But you're strong. And آپ can overcome the difficulties that face you."
I feel like a helpless eight-year-old as I say, "But I can't. It's to much, there's so much. Mom, please. Please come back. Help me."
"I can't do that," she repeats, stroking my hair gently with those warm, too-real fingers. "But there are those who can. Those who آپ can trust. Isn't there someone آپ love, Aryess? Someone آپ want to be with forever?"
An image of dark hair, handsome, well defined features, and steely grey eyes, God, those eyes, flashes through my mind. I feel the heat crawl up my neck and spread across my cheeks. My mother's smile reappears at the blush.
"See?"
"But what if I'm only putting him in danger?"
"If he's the one for you, you'll be able to keep him safe. You'll protect each other."
I meet her eyes, the crystal-blue eyes belonging to my brothers, my nephew, the mother that I will forever miss. I don't want to let this feeling of being so close to her, of being so secure, safe, to ever fade away. But I can't find my foothold as the world falls out beneath me and the darkness takes over once again.
The woman-- My mother continues smiling, shakes her head, takes a نشست on the couch. Rests those summer-rain irises on me, takes in my shock, confusion, the volume of سوالات written across my expression.
"My God," she breaths, "My little girl's all grown up."
"Mom.. I don't understand," I barely notice the tears slipping down my cheeks. "You died in that fire. آپ and Dad both.." A too-hopeful thought occurs to me and I find myself glancing around the room in تلاش of the answer to the سوال I ask next. "Is he here, too?"
I wonder if I imagine the sad shadow drawn from her smile سے طرف کی the question. Then again, I must be imagining all of this.
"No. Your father and Daemian have both moved on."
"Why haven't you?"
"Because, Aryess, I wanted to talk to you." My expression must betray the terror I feel. My brain reminding me none of this could possibly exist, my دل yearning me to get closer to my mother. She pats the cushion beside her, and my دل wins. I'm sitting beside her before I realize it. Her hand brushes away the stream of loss sliding down my cheeks. The contact of her skin against mine as she brushes away the tears feels so real and I want so much for it to be.
"I know about Declan. I know about Riley. I know آپ were an assassin, that آپ were killed سے طرف کی them. Because they wanted me," I turn my head, breaking the contact before it breaks me. "What's there to talk about, Mom?"
"Everything, sweetheart آپ are so young, آپ can't understand all of this yet. And I wouldn't want آپ to."
"Why? I know it's not your fault آپ had to leave, but I need your help!" I'm suddenly frustrated, angry. My life has become a mystery and no matter how hard I تلاش for clues, all I find is riddles. "Nothing makes sense anymore!" I feel vulnerable, like my mother has cracked my دل open and thoughts, feelings, pain flows with my blood. "I don't want to keep screwing everything up." I let my head fall, shoulder slump, surrender myself and remember this is what having a mother is like. Someone who could catch آپ as آپ fell and teach آپ how to fly all over again. How did I forget this feeling in a short 8 years?
"I can't fix everything for you," she says in a mournful tone. "I'm so sorry I can't be there for آپ forever. I wish I could go back with you, but I can't do that. But you're strong. And آپ can overcome the difficulties that face you."
I feel like a helpless eight-year-old as I say, "But I can't. It's to much, there's so much. Mom, please. Please come back. Help me."
"I can't do that," she repeats, stroking my hair gently with those warm, too-real fingers. "But there are those who can. Those who آپ can trust. Isn't there someone آپ love, Aryess? Someone آپ want to be with forever?"
An image of dark hair, handsome, well defined features, and steely grey eyes, God, those eyes, flashes through my mind. I feel the heat crawl up my neck and spread across my cheeks. My mother's smile reappears at the blush.
"See?"
"But what if I'm only putting him in danger?"
"If he's the one for you, you'll be able to keep him safe. You'll protect each other."
I meet her eyes, the crystal-blue eyes belonging to my brothers, my nephew, the mother that I will forever miss. I don't want to let this feeling of being so close to her, of being so secure, safe, to ever fade away. But I can't find my foothold as the world falls out beneath me and the darkness takes over once again.
Actual photo of the romanov family in 1913
Nurse Becca
Vexx
