Page 62 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
My words ring true. There will never be a right time to face them. I’ll never be ready.
Terran steps into the room and closes the door. Looking at him sometimes feels like looking at myself. The same freckles around our noses and cheeks, the same green eyes—Ma’s green eyes—the same small nose and big mouth. Only, his isn’t marked by a scar, solidifying the day he failed.
The day I let my mother die.
“You’re not welcome here,” Terran says, his voice shaking on the precipice of fury.
My stomach tightens. I focus on him, that hatred, that blame. An invisible pipe between us deposits it into me. At what point does it become my own?
My silence doesn’t seem to be welcomed, either.
“What are you doing here?” he asks me. “I’ve heard about the monster attacks on Visnatus. Do you have something to do with those, too?”
I know what he’s doing. Possibly better than he does. I canfeelhis desire for my response. He wants me to lash out—becausehewants to lash out.
He wants to punish me, but he will never know that my guilt is punishment enough.
I want to rip the thorns that stitch my lips shut. If only they weren’t metaphorical. If only there was such a simple way to reclaim my voice as pulling thorns from my skin.
Terran doesn’t stop—he has no idea what I’m feeling. Unlike me, he has totryto sense emotion, to even brush against them. But he never tries. I’d know if he did.
“Dad will tell you he loves you,” Terran spits. “Jasper and Cassius will tell you they miss you. But it will always be afalsehood in their hearts, even if they tell themselves they believe it in their minds.”
I’m finally able to croak a measly two words. “I know.”
“No, you don’t. You killed the love of dad’s life. You killed your brothers’ mother.” His voice cracks as he shouts, “Mymom! They can play at forgiveness, but they will never win.”
“I know, Terran,” I say, this time a hint louder.
“Don’t come back here.” He turns to the door.
There’s more to this than you think, I want to say. I want to say anything that could tempt him to listen. Perhaps even forgive me. The only thing stopping me is the fear of what he’d do if I planted those seeds of revenge in his mind. Because I don’t know what I’ll do in the end if I am to find out that Folkara orchestrated Ma’s death.
So I let the door slam.
I decide to save him from himself, while preparing to throw myself to the sharks.
Terran and I were never close. There were few times that we got on. Times when I would see him laughing, face to face and not from afar. Times that I cherish, because that’s all I have left to hold onto. My love for my family.
It’s why I’ve stayed away.
If it had been someone else that killed Ma, I wouldn’t want them around.
So I’ll make myself scarce as quickly as possible.
I begin to really look at the books. I don’t know what to look for. If thereisanything in here regarding the weapon, it’d be glamoured like the last. But I don’t know if I can hope for such a sloppy mistake again.
After too long of staring, I go to Ma’s desk, daring myself to sit in her chair. It smells just like her, almost feels like her. I close my eyes, visiting the boy. But he’s not here.
In my mind, I’m standing before her desk, instead of behind it. Here, Ma is sitting in her chair. Her hand reaches out to me, her skin resting on mine.
“Is this what you need?”she asks, but I shake my head—I know it’s the boy.
“I need something that no one can give me,”I reply.“I need to be normal. I need to be able to touch someone. I need to stop being suffocated by other people’s inner voices.”
Ma nods.“Onlyyoucan give yourself what you need. Only you can find your meaning of peace.”
“It’s not themeaningof peace I’m looking for. It’s fucking peace!”I pull my hand away, turning around.
