The problem with being trapped in a
white room with hardly anything in it was there was nothing to hide behind when
the other occupant started to drive you batty. So I settled for pouting in a
corner, my back to her as she started babbling on again about the guy she
thought would come for her. There didn’t even appear to be dust in the room,
otherwise I probably would have entertained myself with a mini dust devil. So I
half listened to her nonsense about a guy with cinnamon hair and deep brown
eyes while I tried to imagine what it would be like when Drei burst through the
door. I didn’t expect it to be any time soon, but if it happened—
Forcing the doubt out of my mind, I
silently cursed her for putting that seed there in the first place and then
returned to my images of Drei storming in with guards draped hopelessly over
him, trying to stop him. It was melodramatic and ridiculous, yes, but it was
better than listening to her tell me it would never happen. Looking at her, it
was obvious what happened when you gave up hope in this place.
“…I felt so bad disappearing for
all that time and then showing up again with a baby. And that I led him on for
hours before taking him to see her; he was so angry; I knew he would be. I
hated dropping it like that on him. I hope he’s forgiven me. Charlie never did
forget well…”
I turned to look at her then,
leaving behind any thought of completely ignoring her. Something in her
ramblings was triggering a memory of mine—no, not mine. It was my father’s. The
one I had taken all those years ago before leaving him. My mom had left for a
year and then she showed back up with me, leaving me in his married hands,
trusting him to protect me from ending up in a place like this.
She was older than in the memory,
but that was a given. What I didn’t expect was that she had the same build and
features. How could it be that the person in my father’s memory, and the woman
in front of me, were one in the same. They couldn’t be.
“What’s your name?” I interrupted,
praying she would say it was something other than my mom’s.
She gazed at me, smiling softly. “You’re
not mad at me for being honest?” she asked, her pale cerulean eyes large and
doe-like. “I was really worried about that.” She fidgeted with her fingers,
twisting one fingertip between two fingers on the opposite hand.
Her comment made me wonder how long
I had been ignoring her, how much I had missed, and how much of it I might have
wanted to know.
“What’s your name?”
“What’s yours?” she countered,
springing up and darting across to sit in front of me.
“Abriel,” I said, wondering how
someone her age could have so much childish energy; especially when I was
feeling exhausted. Perhaps it was a side effect of whatever experiments they
conducted there.
She clutched my hand excitedly,
bubbling about how pretty my name was and how she’d always liked that name. Then
she abruptly changed subjects, saying, “My name’s Tyrene, but everyone calls me
Ty—I guess I should say used to call me Ty; no one really calls me that anymore—except
for the one night guard.”
My mind felt like it overloaded and
shut down. She couldn’t be my mom. This
bubbly woman who had looked so worn and defeated to my father the last time he
saw her. This person who shared my element, who had given up hope on anything
ever changing. She just…couldn’t.
“You look really familiar, do I
know you? From before obviously,” she babbled, oblivious to what I was going
through.
“I’m—I mean, I think I’m—” The
words stuck to the roof of my mouth and I couldn’t seem to pry them loose. Though
I had learned to cope with so much that never made any sense, this topped it
all. I couldn’t even manage to say it.
“Come to think of it,” she prattled
onward, “I named my baby girl Abriel. I don’t know how long ago that was; you
kind of lose track. I think the one guard who is really nice to me all the time
said my record shows I came years ago; like—”
“Twenty-one?” Part of me prayed
she’d say that wasn’t right.
“Yeah!” she screeched, bouncing
again before sitting on her feet. “How’d you know?”
“I’m your daughter.” The idea kept
being rejected by my brain, even after I said it aloud. It wouldn’t fit; I had
thought I’d find her dead, or out doing something, but I never thought I would
find her here. Not like this, at least. I had convinced myself, when I thought
on it, that she would be serious and plotting; that was so far from the truth.
“Really?” she squealed, her eyes nearly
bulging out of her skull and clutching me close. “How’d you get here? I gave
you to Charlie so he’d take care of you. You weren’t supposed to end up here at
all.”
Nothing I came up with could fully
answer her questions. I ended up here by accident. By sheer chance. He did care
for me—until everything blew up in my face. And I was still figuring out how to
cope with finally meeting the one person who started it all.
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