I sigh and shake my head. I stomp over to Zeph and snatch a meat-filled stick from his hand before he can stop me. I jump away as quickly as possible, expecting him to try and take it back, but he just growls and mumbles a bunch of shit I can’t hear.
That’s probably a good thing.
I grab the blanket that Treno was sleeping on and drag it over to his newly claimed angry corner. I hand him the food and the blanket. He eyes them warily and doesn’t move to take them.
“We both know you’re weak and that you need this. You can still be pissed at me and at them while you eat. I won’t read into your acceptance of food as anything other than you being hungry.”
Treno stares at the meat a minute more, and then he concedes. I nod once and drop the blanket at his feet. I move back over to the fire and collect some grot berries and the not-watermelon and set them on Treno’s blanket. An irritated grunt sounds off from the shadow shrouded corner, and I look over my shoulder to glare at Zeph. I can’t make out exactly where he is in the pitch-black area, but I know his eyes are on mine.
I mouth grow up and then turn back to Treno. “The berries taste like ass. You probably already know that, but just in case you don’t, those things should come with a warning.”
I look over my shoulder and give the dark corner a pointed look.
“You’re up and walking, aren’t you?” Zeph states evenly, and touché sounds off in my mind.
“Please,” I scoff. “That’s my own stubbornness at play, not your ass berries,” I lie.
Ryn snickers, either from the ass berries comment or my bad bullshitting, but either way it’s a nice sound to hear instead of all the yelling and accusations. I make my way to my own blanket and try to get comfortable—well, as comfortable as you can get lying on the cold rock hard ground. I stare off into the dancing flames of the fire and let my mind wander. How the fuck did my life go so wrong so fast?
I circle that question over and over again, trying to look at it from every angle in my mind. Where and how did everything go so wrong, and how in rutting Thais Fairies am I going to get it back on track? I wallow in those thoughts for a very long time, and then everything in and around me starts to blur and I quickly fall asleep.
A doorbell chimes, waking me up. Groggily I listen to footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. I hear someone flick the light switch on and draw back the curtain to the window next to the door.
I look out my own window to see that the moon is still high in the sky and the stars are out and still up to their mischievous twinkling. It’s still night. I hear the door creak open and my gran speak softly to whoever is on the other side of it. I sit up, too curious not to sneak out of my room and have a peek at what’s going on, but then I notice my mom standing in the corner, next to my bookshelf.
She smiles at me and I smile back, but something about the exchange feels off. I suddenly feel scared.
“What are you doing, mommy?” I ask softly, my voice heavy with sleep.
“Saying goodbye, My Heart,” she tells me, her smile filled with tender affection, but then she wipes a tear from her cheek.
“Why are you sad?” I ask as I feel my own worry and sadness climb to the surface, but my mom walks over and pulls me into her arms, and I suddenly feel better.
“I’m always with you, Falon. Remember that, okay?” she tells me, and I squeeze her tighter and nod my head against her chest.
“We tried hard to hide you from it all, but it found us anyway,” she tells me on a sob as she pulls me in even closer. Her hug is bruising and it hurts, but I don’t want to say anything. I’m scared. “Just know that you are all you need, okay, My Heart? When the loneliness and sadness feels overwhelming, remember that you are enough, and you will be okay. I love you, and I’m so sorry.”
“I love you too, mommy,” I tell her, but all at once, she’s gone. I fall to the bed, my mother’s bruising hug and words just an echo around me. I can feel her lips against my hair, and yet there’s no one here. Confusion fills my mind, and then fear quickly replaces it. I throw back my covers and call out for my mother.
Did I have a bad dream?
Footsteps rush up the stairs and relief filters through me. She’s coming. She’ll make it all better. My gran’s face peeks in through the door, her complexion ruddy and her cheeks wet.
“I had a bad dream,” I tell her, and she rushes to the bed and pulls me into her lap.
She doesn’t say anything, she just rocks me and cries. This reminds me too much of my dream, and I feel instantly nervous and afraid.
“What’s wrong?” I finally ask
“There was an accident, my sweet. Your daddy didn’t make it, and your mommy got hurt.”
I try to understand what she’s talking about, but there’s a knock on the door. I look up to find a police officer standing there.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but we just received news that Noor Umbra passed before the ambulance could make it to the hospital.”
“Oh, no,” Gran keens, and she drops her cheek to my head and starts to rock me harder as she cries. I don’t know what’s going on. I just saw my mommy, and she didn’t look hurt. Does she need a Band-Aid? I always feel better after I get a Band-Aid for my owies.
