3. The beginning of my quiet life

It was a long, dreamless sleep. My only companions were pain and fear. 

Fear that maybe I would never wake up again. 

I was vaguely aware of time passing, but my body and mind refused to respond. I couldn’t really think, yet I could feel everything else. I couldn’t see anything but darkness. I couldn’t hear anything except the painfully slow beating of my heart. 

Even the tree was gone. 

There was only a blur.

Sometimes, I would see a passing shadow or feel a breeze on my skin, but it always vanished before I could grasp it.

After what felt like an eternity, a soft rhythmic buzzing rang through my mind, slowly bringing me back to the world of the living.

When my consciousness finally came to me, my eyelids felt too heavy to lift. My whole body was so sore. So much so that I wondered if I had imagined waking up before. 

My body was so weak, I could barely move a single finger. 

The only proof that I was really awake was the weight of the blanket on my chest… And a movement at my side, as if someone was sitting right beside me on the side of the bed. 

I tried to grunt, but the sound stuck in my throat.

In response, I felt a warmth on my forehead. It was the familiar and reassuring pressure of a hand. I struggled to open my eyes. The light from the window blurred everything. I could make out the canopy again, but not the insignia. 

I blinked to wipe away the fog. The warmth left my forehead and moved to my cheek. A shape began to form. Long rose-silver strands of hair brushed against my face.

[Mom…?] I tried to say.

After several more blinks, I could finally see her face. My mother. Tears clouded her blue eyes as she forced herself to smile at me.

[Mom!] I screamed out and sat up to hug her, or tried to. 

Nausea took hold of me as pain shot up my back, nearly making me lose consciousness again. But Mother wrapped her arms tightly around me. 

I buried my face in her dress while dizziness came and went. We stayed like that for a long time. It wasn’t until the nausea finally passed that I loosened my grip.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, soaking the spot where I’d buried my face in her dress.

[I missed you so…] 

When I looked up, my heart sank.

Her lips were moving, I was sure of it, but I couldn’t hear anything. Not even a whisper.

I gripped her clothes tighter, leaning in.

[Mother? Mom? Please speak louder. I can’t hear you!]

She reacted to my words. Her expression shifted, and not in relief.

It was a look I never saw on her face. Fear.

She turned toward the side of the bed. That’s when I noticed the man standing there.

A tall figure in blue and white robes. A Kinsmann of Meiriem.

His pink veil was lifted, revealing short blue hair and serious pink eyes. I looked around and noticed another priest standing by the door. A woman with pink hair, distracted, in a conversation with a maid. Neither of them looked at me.

The Orthodox church of Meiriem worshipped the twin gods of love. My family was of very strong Meiriem descent, making it so we were highly regarded by the church.

The gods were very present in people's lives, and they gave their kins blessings. Meiriem’s were blessings of peace and bonds, which made twins very common in families like ours with Ela and Knox or like those Kinsmanns.

This wasn’t the only thing we received from the gods. 

My mother and I had rose-coloured hair that came from our connection to Meiriem. While my silver eyes came from the Seeir, the goddess of Order, a trait inherited from my mother’s side of the family. 

Most people were of mixed descent. True ‘kins’ who inherited blood from a single god were rare, from what I’d heard, and I had never met one.

Although the church did have a preference for those who were closer to their lineage. My silver eyes had often been used as the origin of my ‘fool moods’, as Kinsmanns had put it in the past.

The Kinsmann knelt by my bedside and pinched me by the chin, making me stare right into his eyes. His mouth moved a few times, but I couldn’t tell whether he was talking to me or my mother. 

[I– I don’t understand what you’re saying.] I responded.

He frowned deeper. My chest tightened as my mother looked on with a worried expression. 

Fear began building up in my chest.

[Am I dying…?] I asked hesitantly.

They heard me, I could tell, but the way they reacted and spoke to each other told me they didn’t understand the meaning behind my words.

That didn’t make any sense! 

If they can hear, they should have known what I was saying!

The man said a few more words to my mother before turning back to me again and asking me something.

I felt a ball in my throat as he did.

[What’s wrong with you?! I’m telling you I can’t understand!] I lashed out.

I hit the bed in frustration. Pain shot through me as my hand connected with the mattress, and I nearly collapsed. My mother caught me just before I fell over. 

Tears started pooling in the corner of my eyes once more. 

I gagged as my empty stomach rumbled painfully. My head was pounding, my whole body felt like it was burning up, and now everyone was acting weird!

I looked at my mother, whose eyes were filled with tears. She held me tightly as I cried on her shoulder. My tears did not dry up until I finally fell asleep.

All I remember was her gentle rocking, back and forth. As if I were a baby again. I hated that. But I also liked it. It made me feel less alone.

In the days that followed, the haze that had taken hold of my life began to lift, and I was able to think straight again.

I woke up a few hours at a time. My mother and the maids brought me food, clothes and medicine. The medicine tasted bitter and made my throat dry, but I could see the worried look on my mother’s face when I refused to take it, so I forced myself to drink it. 

She often tried to talk to me, but I still couldn't hear her words.

At first, I tried to answer, but each time she seemed to become increasingly worried. Then confused, upset, frustrated... and eventually looked at me the same way you would a faded flower. 

She wasn’t the only one.

My siblings and father visited too.

The first time, Dalton jumped onto the bed to hug me, almost knocking me out. His excitement quickly left when he realised I couldn’t get out of bed and play with him. After the accident, my body had become so fragile that simply moving made me dizzy, and I would even fall over if I sat upright for too long. 

He tried to play checkers, but it was difficult to play on the bed and with the constant nausea, I struggled to keep up with the game. I expected him to look happy for being able to beat me so easily, but instead, his eyes looked very sad.

Father and Knox would sometimes visit me during meals. They would mostly just stand there, say a couple of things I couldn’t understand, smile stiffly, maybe feed me a bit or two, then leave me alone with the maids.

It hurt to see them acting so distant, but I understood. I must be very boring now.

Ela visited me the most. She always brought tea and sweets, and sometimes a book under her arm. She would sit down at my side and read the book to me. She showed me the pictures and traced the words with her fingers. The same way she had before. 

While she read, I always looked at her. Hoping that for a moment I could hear her voice again, or that I could guess what she was saying. When she looked at me, I would try to get her attention by pointing at words or images on the page as if to say, 'that, tell me about that!' so she would stay a moment longer with me. But all she returned were looks of sadness.

First, she stopped tracing over the words, then she stopped showing me images. Soon she grew tired of it and stopped speaking while she read altogether. 

Only reading to herself, like I wasn’t even there.

As time went by, like the rest of my family, she stopped visiting.

The only people I would see were the maids who still came and went. Sometimes I would even see Kylie bringing me a fresh set of clothes in the morning or brushing my hair gently as if I were a doll. But there were no emotions on her face. No smile like those times she had sneaked me sweets while no one was looking. 

The head maid would visit too, though less often. She didn’t scold me anymore. She just looked at me, whispered something to the others, and sighed as she walked away. 

As though I were a cracked vase that they couldn’t throw out.

I was still there, but it was like I didn’t exist.

It was for the first time in my entire life that I felt entirely and absolutely alone in the world.