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This is not clutter.
It’s filth.
My stomach twists at the sight, not out of disgust, but because of what I’m afraid it means.
When my father leads me to the back room, my fears are realized.
There’s a lump in the bed, though I recognize immediately by her breathing patterns that my mother is not asleep. Far from it. The sun has only just set, an abnormal time for anyone to be in bed, but something about the way the closed curtains collect dust tells me this isn’t an unusual occurrence.
“Merida,” my father calls, and my chest constricts again at hearing my mother’s name on my father’s lips. I don’t think I expected to hear that again. “Merida. We have a visitor.”
No one answers, though I can’t help but notice my mother halts her breathing. As if she can make herself unnoticeable if only she goes completely still.
“Merida.” My father takes a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s afraid of telling her the truth. Not the truth that I’m alive, but of the inevitable question that will follow.
“Maybe I should just go.” I’m panicking now, realizing what our loss has done to our mother. Our mother, who used to tend to the wounded who’d been robbed on the Serpentine. Our mother, who used to give too many wares for free to those upon whom she took pity.
I destroyed her by leaving, and then I took Zora away from her too. Not that I knew the consequences of my actions at the time.
You did this, a voice whispers to me in the back of my mind.
It’s strange. I would have thought I blamed Abra for this. I suppose now that she’s dead, there’s no one left to blame but me.
The hurt in Blaise’s eyes when I betrayed her flashes across my memory. At the time, I didn’t think I had a choice. I entered into a fae bargain with Abra the night Blaise Turned. Vowed to be her servant eternally if she would do what she could to bring Blaise back. I’d felt good about that not being a problem as soon as I realized the parasite was the one in control, not Abra.
But then Abra had pushed through.
She was so distraught over Farin, but I knew if I didn’t take my chance then, it wouldn’t be long before she remembered her command over me.
I couldn’t be a slave to Abra. Not again.
Still.
The hurt in Blaise’s eyes scalds my soul, even if it’s true that I don’t love her anymore.
Blaise has haunted me since the day I left her. It doesn’t seem love is a requirement for her to have burrowed inside my soul.
Because I remember loving her. Not how it felt—at least, I can’t feel it in real time. But I remember there was a time when I would have clawed through heaven and earth to get to her. I remember cradling her dead body and being willing to give all of myself away just to get her back.
I push the thought of Blaise away.
“No.” My father’s hand grasps my shoulder as I turn to leave. “Just… just go to her. I think it will do her good.”
He doesn’t sound convinced of his own words, but I can’t walk out on my father. So I draw near to the bed, the shadows in the pitch-black room gaping, as if they’ll swallow me whole.
“Mother,” I say. “It’s me. Nox.”
“My son is dead,” she croaks out from underneath the quilt pulled over her face.
It’s true. Her son died a long time ago.
I take in a deep breath. “I’m here, Mother. It’s me, Nox. I’m back. And I’m…” I can’t bring myself to say safe or alright or alive, so I leave it be.
“No…” She weeps from under the blanket. I frown, hesitating as I try to move it, pull it back from her face, but she flinches and hunkers down instead.
Ice spikes my heart as she does.
What have I done to her?
