Page 3 of Time To Learn

1

Laura

Two years later

From Laura’s Journal

People say that wounds heal over time. They say that once the evil that has been a part of your life for so long has been slain—as if you were a knight wielding a sword, murdering the fire-spewing dragon—and is gone for good, that you will be able to breathe freely again.

I disagree.

The physical evidence of my wounds might have healed since Ailith and I escaped our prison two years ago, but in my heart, they still fester and burn as if they are wide open. They haven’t scabbed over or healed at all, and I’m so sick and tired of waking up each morning feeling the pain inside my soul as if it was only yesterday that we found our freedom.

Each night I go to bed, praying that the healing process will have started when I wake up the nextday.

Yet each morning, when I wake up at the crack of dawn, my hopes are dashed as I feel them prickling and probing my insides.

When will itend?

If it weren’t for Ailith, I don’t think I’d have had the strength to keep going forward.

If it weren’t for my mum and her horses, I wouldn’t have a routine.

If it weren’t for my journal, I wouldn’t behere.

These three factors are the reasons I can push the ghosts of the past aside and go about my days, pretending to the people around me that I’m back to being my oldself.

One day, I hope I willbe.

* * *

“Ailith! It’s time to go!”I shout, craning my neck to look at the top of the stairs when I hear her runningfeet.

“Mum, I can’t find my lucky jeans!” she yells back. She throws her hands in the air, clearly in a state of pre-teen panic. I open my mouth to tell her where to find them, but she goes off running again.

Sighing, I check my watch before I take the stairs two steps at atime.

“We can’t be late this time,” I rush as I reach the doorway to her room. “They’re in your wardrobe. Come on, get a move on, please.”

“I don’t know why we have to go to some stupid dentist,” she mutters as she sits down on herbed.

I suppress another tired sigh. They seem to happen more frequently these days than they usedto.

“Please don’t start this again, Ailith Margaret.”

She pulls on her black jeans, pouting, but I ignore it and check the time again.

Great. We’ll belate.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” I mutter and then leave her alone. I can’t deal with another pouting session when I’ve not even had the chance to get a proper cup of coffeeyet.

I hurry downstairs and go into the kitchen just as Mum comes in through the backdoor. Her grey hair is as messy as Ailith’s auburn curls, and, like her granddaughter, she doesn’t care one bit. Instead, she lets it fall wildly down her back mostdays.

And like Ailith, she can usually be seen wearing riding gear, or a pair of jeans.

Those two are like two peas in a pod despite all the years separating them. Happy to spend their days outside and amongst the horses.

I love that aboutthem.