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Aaron
Twenty-one years ago,
I can’t breathe. It’s suffocatingly dark.
A soft material shoves on my face. No air comes into my lungs. I strain to turn my head sideways, but a force keeps me locked in place.
I thrash, fingertips digging into the bony hands holding the choking material. My lungs scream for oxygen and my energy soon wears out. My strangled breaths no longer come out and neither do my struggles.
Why isn’t my heart buzzing in my ears like in the stories I read? Why am I so... calm? I already figured I’m unusual, but this situation should be different. Right?
“What are you doing?” Mother screams, her voice reaching me in a hazy wave. The pillow is yanked off my face.
A wild rush of oxygen invades my chest. I cough. The intensity of life kicking back into my limbs saturates my lungs. Jasmine contorts my stomach. It smells like the horses’ damp in the mud.
Soft, shaky fingers encircle my face, and push my hair back. Lavender takes over jasmine.
“Are you okay, baby?” Mother’s concerned expression strikes me with spring. Only the flowers in her spring were slowly withering ever since Aunt’s death a few months ago. Her face is pale, wide teary eyes staring at me.
I nod.
A stomp on the floor turns my attention to the woman standing a few metres away. My grandmother – or Madam Rhodes as she likes everyone to call her – is wearing a long black dress.
The one she reserves for funerals.
Her bony hand clutches her cane tightly. Even from this distance, her jasmine perfume still nauseates me.
“He should die.” There’s an edge to Grandmother’s usually posh voice.
“Have you lost your mind?” Mother cries, holding me close to her chest. “He’s your grandchild!”
Grandmother doesn’t even flinch at Mother’s unusual high-pitched voice. She points her cane at me. “He’s an abnormality that will cause trouble to our name. It’s better to get rid of him now before it’s too late.”
“He’s not an abnormality!” Mother holds me even closer, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. “He’s my child! My only baby!”
Mother’s arms strangle me. I want to ease off the pressure, but this isn’t the right time to interfere.
Grandmother’s wrinkled hand stomps the cane. “He’s wrong in the head. It’s better to deal with his type when they’re children. I will rectify my mistake of not dealing with Arthur and Ariel by making him go away even if it’s the last thing I do.”
Mother glares at her, an uncommon fierceness fires the depths of her stormy eyes. “Arthur is the duke and the master of the estate, not you. Do you think he’ll be happy to find out you tried to kill his son?”
“Insolent! You wouldn’t dare!”
Mother smiles, her voice as calm as Uncle’s fishing pond. “I would do anything to protect my child.”
My gaze shifts between Mother and Grandmother. Jasmine and lavender. Spring and mud. Do I even want to take a side?
‘No, you don’t,’ Aunt whispers in her cold voice. ‘You have me. You always picked me.’
I nod to myself. Winter is indeed more interesting. It confuses me still, but it’s a lot better than rare motherly and disgusting mud.
“What’s going on here?”
All attention darts to Father’s deep voice. He enters the room with an imposing presence that forces everyone to look his way.
He’s tall and overpowering. His presence always sucked air from his surroundings. I learnt to hold my breath around him since a long time ago.
Still in his business suit, his dark gaze – identical to mine – shifts between the three of us. He lingers on Mother before facing Grandmother.
