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“Mummy, do you know why babies are born without teeth?”
“Why, love?” I yearn to hold him and soothe his pain.
“Because they can’t brush them.” He giggles as I kiss his head.
When the memory fractures and begins to slip away, he looks at me with those dark blue eyes, full of agony and disappointment. Nate wails for me to come. My boy is in pain and scared. Shaking, I whimper, desperately trying to get away from the clutches of this memory.
Like a fraught mouse, I try to escape the trap, shut the gate, but I struggle. The thought of me being alone and helpless squeezes my heart in painful spasms until I am sweating, dizzy with sickening dread. Too scared, I gasp for air. I’m drowning. I collapse on the floor, numb. Helpless to control my moves, the memory seizes me again.
This time, my little munchkin with golden brown hair appears in front of me, making faces, peppering me with kisses. Ethan’s observing dark brown eyes melt my heart with his cute antics. God, he was just two when he died. Why?
“Mummy, don’t cry, let me kiss it better.” His words resonate through me, and his warm kisses threaten to unravel me.
Ethan’s sweet scent pierces my senses and my frightened heart races, as if to escape the agony. Helpless against it, I whimper. Something stirs in my chest, urging me to fight the terror.
Cassandra. Stubbornly, she pushes the memories away, bulldozes this unwelcoming feeling. I retreat, battered, defeated, and left yearning to be reunited with the family. She takes charge by force.
I hate being helpless and weak. Another whimper escapes my mouth, and the echoes of Sandra’s past vibrate through me. My heart squeezes in my chest; I know I can’t survive those memories. So, I push away their voices that could drown me in pain.
Slowly and deeply, I inhale through my nose and then exhale through my mouth, regaining the balance. I despise being out of control. Not today. I won’t let Sandra take us under. To regain my bearings, I conjure an image of me sitting in the sea of a golden wheat field. The long grass whooshes to the rhythm of the blowing winds, stroking my legs and brushing against the reaching fingers.
Sandra’s memories no longer threaten my authority. I am back. She is not real. She is only a fragment of my past. She abandoned the ship. I am the one who gets to live. Finally, I open my eyes.
The rainforest setting gently pounds my shaking form in my walk-in shower. I lay my tired head on the tiled, cold, slick ground, dragging my feet underneath me until I’m tucked in a ball. Listening to the falling water, I wrap my arms around my legs and wait until my stiff muscles relax.
Later, lying in my bed, I let myself to return to the tranquil wheat field, lulling me into quick mindless sleep, trying to ignore my destroyed life, waiting out the inner storm to pass.
I won today. But she is getting stronger.
I might fail next time.
Chapter 3
second chance omen
~Cassandra~
Today
Why me?
I cringe as I look down and see melted gum left on the pavement hanging from my shiny new stiletto. I try to scrape it off in the grass as my youngest sister, Aisha, chats on the other end of the phone, her mouth going a mile a minute. Frustrated with people’s lack of regard for others, I tune her out.
Once I drag my high heel and get rid of the sticky paste, I feel at ease again and bring my attention back to my conversation.
“Have you packed sexy underwear? Those can be handy, especially in the city of magic…perhaps you’ll meet someone who charms your panties off.” Aisha chatters away in my ear as I maneuver my way around the people rushing to work.
The thrill’s bubbling beneath my skin as I walk towards the Victoria train station, where I’ll head to the Gatwick airport. My heart starts beating rapidly, and the hairs rise on my arm in the awareness of something unexplainably electric about to happen.
“My underwear is lace, and it’s glued to my body. I don’t plan to show it to anyone. Besides, I am going for work.” This is what it means to be the oldest girl in the family. You have to be uptight to set an example. Otherwise, I’ll have to clobber men showing up at her door. Perhaps I should tell my younger sister Raine to deal with them. She’s twenty-five, just a few years younger than me, and very protective.
“Oh, come on. You need to live a little bit.”
“I am…” I whisper, but the sound is swamped by the announcements spewed from the speakers.
Thank God the Victoria train station is well-marked and easy to get around. Otherwise, I would get lost. As I look around, I see loads of options of how to spend my time while waiting for the next train, but I am not interested in browsing today. My heels click on the path as I walk through all commercial distractions driven by purpose to get on the train as fast as possible.
“Are you still listening, Cassandra?” Aisha is getting annoyed, but I have to find the kiosks, and it’s hard to see when you’re only five-foot-three.
