Mirrors h.s

20

"She's my aunt." I finally let the words tumble out. My heart beat picks up at the thought of telling someone this for the first time. Harry's face scrunches in instant confusion as he sits beside me. It felt easier to tell Harry this than anyone else, I had to admit. Not because I trusted or cared for him of course, but because this was strictly professional. He needed to know because of the position we were both in. Did I want to share this? No. But if I didn't the mafia would have to get involved. I felt relief knowing that harry wasn't going to try to comfort me or think differently of me after I shared this with him. Because that's all I wanted—to be treated exactly the same.

"I don't understand...." Harry scratches the back of his neck, twisting the shorter curls through his fingers in contemplation. His brows, as usual, are pulled inwards into an unintentionally intimidating stare.  "From what I've heard... you live with her and even call her 'mom'" Harry reflects on the information that he's gathered on me.

"It's.... complicated..." I trail off thinking about how I should start. My face is already beat red from the anxiety of letting this out. "My real mother's name was Astra." I find some comfort staring with this— 'of the stars' I could hear my fathers words ringing like a bell in my memory. The Greek meaning of her beautiful name. I remember her blonde locks of wild curls and the way she would look at me with her nose scrunched when I got into harmless trouble as a young girl. I missed it. It's funny how you vividly remember the most random things about a person. She was such a huge part of my life but when I think of her, the dreaded nose scrunch is what comes to mind. Something I feared so much as a child became something I yearned for the most.

"After my father died—left," I correct myself, tripping over the words of my confusing story finding myself even lost.  "She started acting strange..." I tried my best to describe her state. "People would tell me she was grieving—that she just needed some time. I tried to be patient, but she was getting worse." I twiddled with my thumbs in my lap staring down. When I peered up at Harry he was now faced more towards me instead of sitting straight and turning his head every now and then. He seemed more attentive than normal.

"What was the matter?" Harry pinched his bottom lip with his narrow eyes on me. I swallowed back the bad feelings trying to do my best in explaining.

"She couldn't process that he was... gone." I bit the inside of my cheek. "She would search for him constantly and kept forgetting things—forgetting me." I added before pressing my lips in a flat line. My further explaining caused Harry's mouth to form an O shape like he knew where I was going with this. "Later she was diagnosed and it turns out that is was actually dementia." I shutter at the mere memory of my mother loosing her mind. She was so young and the disease rarely effected people her age.

I did a good job keeping myself together while I explained the unfortunate event. It's been years since it happened so I was able to spill everything to harry without becoming emotional.

He nodded his head and I could tell he was a bit shocked from this new information. Harry also does a good job at hiding his emotions but the slightest squint of his eyes and the minuscule upturn of his brows, I could read his surprise.

"So where does Annabell fit in with all of this?" He clears his throat, staying to the point and professional.

This was the hard part that I was dreading.

I think back to the little girl I was when (at the time) I was told that my father had passed. That same carefree girl who had tons of friends to mess around and grow up with was still there. She was still the same. She was still Mira.

But as soon as people found out what had happened they started acting different towards her. Walking on eggshells around her— afraid she would break.