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“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mom asks, sitting down at the table.
“Because I knew you would be mad.”
“Honey, I know things have been hard for you.”
“You have no idea.”
Mom flinches and she sets her jaw. “I think I have some idea. You lost Poppa and I lost my father, Lyra.”
“It’s not just that! There are other things, Mom. You wouldn’t understand.”
I push away from the table. I don’t even know where I’m going, but I don’t want to be here anymore.
“Lyra, don’t walk away. Please. I want to help.”
I pause at the door, hands fisted.
“Please give me a chance,” Mom pleads. It makes my heart feel like it’s being ripped into tiny pieces. In this moment, I can see how tired she is. Maybe we’ve both just been going through the motions, living life on autopilot to get by.
“You won’t believe me,” I whisper.
“Honey, of course I’ll believe you.”
And when I turn to look at her, I know she will. I know it deep in my heart and I’ll have someone to share this burden with. So, I sit down at the table again and she takes my hands in hers. They are as cold as a corpse.
“Promise you’ll believe me?”
“Yes,” she nods her head and her voice shakes a little.
“Mom,” I start to cry. I can’t even say it for a long moment, all I can do is choke on my sobs. “I can see the dead.”
She lets go of my hands and her chair scrapes against the floor as she stands. “Lyra Anora Silby, that is enough.”
“You said you’d believe me!”
“Not when you are spouting nonsense!”
“It isn’t nonsense! I see spirits, Mom! As real as I see you. You have to believe me!”
“I will believe no such thing!” Her voice is shrill. “Are you telling me this is why you got a D?”
“I found Poppa!” I scream. “I saw his soul come out of his body. I saw something black and horrible fighting—”
“Enough!” she matches my tone. “Don’t speak another word or I will commit you, Lyra. Do not test me!”
Neither of us speak after her threat, and just as much as I believed a moment ago that I could tell her the truth, I now believe she’s completely capable of committing me to a mental institution.
I should have known things would end this way.
“You know what? Fine.” I say, grabbing my phone. I leave the kitchen and head for the door.
“Where are you going?” Mom demands.
I don’t answer.
“Lyra, don’t you dare leave this apartment.”
I’m out the door.
