Cruel Sanctuary

Chapter 37

That was the last day that I saw my mother. Since then, the dark hole of emptiness has taken over every nut and cranny, every shadowy corner, every darkening bend of my life. Each day goes by without my permission and each event passes me without any hesitation. The world moves forwards as I move backwards or, even worse, I remain in the same place. Tina and Mike have been as apologetic as they can be considering the circumstances in which my old bedroom has become my sanctuary. A pretty crap one at that, too. 

Sarah Greene was pronounced dead by the time that the ambulance took one glance at her. No need for checkups. No need for a trip to the hospital. No need for Dr Lydia Davison to return to us. So, once those words were uttered from the professional's mouth, I returned to my abode with Owen and moved back to the room that I once inhabited. By 'moved back to' I refer to the transfer of a pathetic quilt and flimsy pillow. 

Part of me blames the Anstey's for all that has happened to our family. My bittersweet marriage to Owen, my mother's unsuccessful treatment, my mother's death and the breaking of my once strongly knit family. The other half of me feels remorse for pointing the finger of blame on a family that only ever tried to help and is grieving almost a fraction of what we are. Emma tells me that I shouldn't wish the terror that I feel on any other family but I only long for somebody to understand my pain. 

When I returned home, my mindset was that we shouldn't have made an agreement with the Anstey's because it was useless but then I saw Owen's tear stricken face as he wrapped me up in his warm embrace. I fell in love all over again. If only our unity wasn't bound together by a contract. However, my view soon changed when I had a conversation with my family in-law through the steady wooden door. 

Apparently, according to Tina, this was the plan all along. Of course not my mother falling victim to cancer but for Owen and I to become married. She informed us both that they would've helped with my mother's unsuccessful treatment without the return of marriage but both my parents and Owen's parents were concerned that we'd never find our way back to one another. They refer to it as a 'helping hand'. And, with a snap of my fingers, I could no longer remain unhappy about the terms of my marriage to Owen. 

Still, a part of me battles to blame them for the death of my beloved mum. 

Today is the day that I rip myself from this funk. I'm not ready, I'm not healed and I'm not prepared but I vowed to her before her last breath that I'd live in her light. It wasn't a spoken promise, just a presumed promise. Everything that I do from now until I depart is for my mother, what she would have wanted me to do. So, with no further ado, I sweep my fragile body from the ground and place all of my pieces together as I slide the lock of my door open. 

One step, and another, and another. All until I find myself staring at Owen's tensed back as he leans over a pan of cooking potatoes. I clear my throat, demanding his startled attention. For a few never-ending seconds, he takes in my figure as if I'm a ghost that he's convinced himself that he's never going to see again, "Skylar?" He croaks out and I nod, my bottom lip quivering as my first interaction for months becomes that of a disaster, "Come here," He beckons me with open arms and I rush to him. I rush with urgency, love and longing. I rush faster to him than I have to anybody for years. 

Our bodies collide with a cloud of colour as life becomes vivid once more, "It's been six months, what happened?" He asks me, planting kisses on my forehead as my arms stay wrapped around his thin torso. Shrugging, I place my head in his chest again, "I guess I've had enough of moping around," I reply with nonchalance as if I haven't been locked away in the same room for the past six months, only accepting visits from Owen if he bares food. With furrowed eyebrows, he raises his concerns, "Are you sure? The last time you've been out of that room for a prolonged time was for the funeral."