I take Eliane’s hand, feeling her soft skin brush against mine. My rough, calloused fingers graze her gently as I lead her along. She freezes beside me.
She cocks her head up and blows her hair out of her face. Some time has passed, and the sun starts to rise. Maybe Eliane has let it come up earlier than normal, because despite the fact it is spring, the sun normally doesn’t come up at 5.30. I don’t tell her my suspicions. I don’t need to upset her more. She lets go of my hand and I can feel her heart ring in her ears. She steps towards the wooden brown door. The house is way smaller than that of Gwen and looks less cozy than the cottages in Ilanos.
“This is it, Hazel’s house.”She sighs, making sure they don’t hear us.
Not Eliane’s house.
She doesn’t see it that way and I can feel that she doesn’t feel welcome. I see her hesitate, but she still knocks on the door.
Two loud knocks followed by silence.
I can see her holding her breath as her body doesn’t move at the inhalation of air like mine does. Eliane turns around, making amends to leave.
“They are not there, let’s leave,”she whimpers, her breath still stuck in her throat. I grab her arm.
Her eyes track my hands in surprise. My hand held her tingly. “You are going to leave a mark if you press that hard,” she hisses, trying to untangle my fingers.
Good.
Let her feel anger.
Anger is better than that backstabbing pain she must have felt ever since she found out Fintan wasn’t her real dad. She might let her parents’ action go, but I won’t. I can’t let her get eliminated because she is too polite to knock. She doesn’t want to break in on her parents’ lives. I can feel it. If she doesn’t I will.
“You have every right to feel what you want, but if you won’t be angry, I will. You didn’t deserve to be pushed away, locked in the mountains just because of the thing you might become. If you don’t talk to them, I will. And I will not leave them until they feel the same emptiness and pain they left you with,” I spit out, releasing her arm, I stamp towards the door again. I don’t care if they hear us. They need to know what they did to her. I can feel her looking at my back, reaching for me. Her anger raising in her veins.
Hesitating if she should follow.
Before I can knock or kick the door in, the door swings open and a woman around forty years old looks around it. Her eyes wide at the sight of Eliane and she tries to close the door as fast as she swung it open.
She tried to close the door at the sight of her daughter.
Her daughter.
Her own blood and flesh.
My hand pushes at the right top corner of the door, reacting on impulse, forcing the woman to keep the door open.
“How dare you!” I yell at her, not able to control my voice. My power rushes through me and despite the fact my body felt tired before, my magic sucks the adrenaline up like wine. The door swings open and the woman steps back. I march inside strollingtowards her. “How dare you abandon your daughter. How dare you close the door at the sight of her. After the courage she grabbed together to come here. After everything you did,” I spit the words out in her face, hoping they stab.
She doesn’t react.
The woman has icy blonde hair like Gwen, she looks more like Gwen than Eliane, at least for personality. Not fighting for what you want— for what you need. A man appears inside, coming from what I assume the bedroom is. I can feel Eliane her warmth facing my back, but I know she is not inside. The man, who I assume is her biological father, eyes wide and his jaw falls open. I stamp towards him. “And you! What kind of man you are, not fighting for the one thing you and your wife have. The one and only thing you should care for with your life,” I erupt. I point my finger at him, fighting the urge to wrap my hand around his throat. He takes a step back, his words slipping out quietly as he regains his composure.
“Let’s talk this out, shall we?!”
Sweat from anger stings my eyes and makes my skin feel sticky. I lunge forward, my hands wrapping around his neck. The veins in his head bulge, the one in his forehead is starting to pulse. I study his face, trying to think of what I should do with him next. It hurts looking at him. Eliane’s presence increases, and her shadow comes next to me. She holds a dagger in the air as she aims forwards.
“It is a little late for that, don’t you think, Kyan?” She holds her chin high as the words leave her mouth. This isn’t my battle. I let go of the man. He brushes his hand across the red mark I left behind on him. I spin looking at Eliane as she strolls forwards. She is strong and looks unbreakable. A mask, I assume—a very good one. She must have learned from the best. I smirk at the thought, but let it wash off my face fast as I see hurt flashing in her eyes.
“Not even a chart for my birthday. Not letting me know I had a sister. Never letting me hear anything from you. I can name the things my dad did for me, you know. He fought for me—loved me. I wanted your love so badly, begged for it, but as I stand here, you are nothing more than strangers. You might have been good parents to Hazel, but you are nothing to me.” The words leave her mouth strong, but I feel her rage—heartbroken rage. The lights flicker brightly as Eliane moves towards her mother. Now that I look better, I can see that despite the blonde hair they kind of have the same nose. She crunches her button nose the same way Eliane does.
“Let me handle this. You don’t have to,”I tell her. She turns to me, eyes narrowing.
“I appreciate your offer, but I can fight my own battles. I should fight my own battles,”she repeats the words like she is trying to tell herself that instead of me. I already knew that. She can do it, but something inside me snaps. Her mother opens her mouth but bites her tongue as I give her a look.
“Eliane, Honey,” Kyan breathes out. Eliane steps towards him, dagger forwards, ready to slash.
“Nobody but Braxton or Dad can say those words. You haven’t earned the honor of my nickname rolling off your tongue,” she voices, emphasis on the word ‘Dad,’ hurt flashing by in Kyan eyes. It is how she speaks the word ‘Honey.’ It leaves me questioning if there is more behind that name. The name I called her since the first day I saw her. It is the flip her stomach does every time that name rolls over my own lips. It is the way she bites the word at them. Almost snarling.
