Remember…
The only difference between bright white and pitch black is illumination…
Max Dread
“This isn’t a normal charm, Max. It’s special.”
My mother clasped the gold chain around my neck.
The gentle stroke of her fingers soothed me, like the scent of freesia hidden in her long black curls. I leaned into her touch, seeking her softness.
Everything else felt so hard.
Everything my father wanted felt wrong.
But she never did.
She adjusted the chain so the pendant fell in the center. Small wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes as she appraised me. My eyes lingered on hers the way they always did, liking how the color matched before I glanced down at my gift.
I touched the gold pendant. “Why is it special?”
Her lips, full just like mine, offered me a smile.
I returned it easily.
“It will protect you. One day, when you need it, this necklace will give you strength. All you have to do is hold onto it and think of me.”
I picked up the small gold pendant from where it rested against my chest. Clasping it tight in my hands, I squeezed and thought only of her. Just like she said.
Strength felt like something I’d never have.
Father always called me weak.
Morty always called methe spare.
I wanted to be big and strong. I wanted to make sure they could never hurt me again.
“How do I know it’s working?”
Sadness filled her eyes, but I didn’t know what caused it. “Each day you wake up and keep going, keep fighting, you’ll know it’s working. It’s how you’ll know I’m always with you. And it’s how you’ll know you’re free. No matter what happens once you go into that room.”
I eyed the closed door my father had entered as soon as we arrived at the D’Arthur Estate. The door I’d follow him into shortly, even though I had no idea what we were doing here.
He didn’t want to be disappointed. Again.
But how did I succeed if he wouldn’t tell me?
My mother shook out her hands. She straightened her simple black dress, smoothing the silk with a trembling stroke of her hand. A tremor of fear lay beneath every move she made.
It had always been that way.
“I’ll be strong, Mom.” I nodded, my voice fiercer than I felt. “Promise. I won’t let our family down, and I’ll do the right thing.”
She cupped my cheek, and I leaned into her palm, staring up at her and wanting to understand her. Wanting to hear all the words she wouldn’t say.
Everything she was too afraid to admit.
Hoping, if she did, I might be brave enough to do it, too.
