H A U N T E D

f o r t y - s e v e n

f o r t y - s e v e n

My first memory is of sitting in the corner of our small kitchen, on the counter next to a bread tin, and watching my mother prepare breakfast for me. She promised me waffles, a delicacy I never experienced, although I didn't have the chance until then - I was only three. It was a Sunday morning, the type where you felt the trepidation for the coming week in your stomach, on a fresh spring day. The sunlight had come through the white pleated curtains, and the music from the small box radio sang a Queen song. My mother, wielding a spatula as a microphone, danced around in the kitchen. Her hair looking like a veil as it ignored gravity with each jump, while she pointed at me. I didn't sing along, as I didn't know the words, but I didn't mind. I wanted to watch her, happy and loving.

At that moment, barely three winters old, I felt content in our small family, where we always had the other's back. On winter nights, when our stomachs were barely full but never growled, and our hearts felt like roasted marshmallows, we'd cuddle under a blanket and watch TV on an old box television set that hardly caught any signal, and could only play tapes. Each Saturday evening, my mother would push in a tape of Lilo & Stitch, knowing I loved the film. I guess I liked to see a movie where we weren't the only people whose house was fragile enough to be built on another person's heart.

I have always known about my mother's witchcraft, like some people always knew their parents attend church. It was a religion to her, and important enough that she taught it to me. I'd watch as she'd build spell jars and sold them to friends that passed through, or to the corner shop lady who once read my palm. Mama taught me which ingredients to use, when to collect water from the river across the road and to place it beneath the full moon to store for later use. She whispered to me at night about fairies, not to make me excited about their existence, but that they'd take me away if I ever whispered my name to them, or expressed gratitude. On Sundays, we'd go out to the woods, and collect mushrooms and wild apples and potatoes.

Some full moons, as I grew older, my mother would leave me alone at home. I'd sit on the window sill, watching her walk down the road with her head down. My fingers would tap against the jars filled with moon water, and I'd make up stories about her whereabouts. Maybe she was a fairy queen whose run off to the fairy world, and had a royal lover waiting for her. Perhaps she had a secret society where she would learn new spells and snapped at people who looked too close.

She was my first friend, the person I'd turn to in time of need, who sang me to sleep and buried her nose in my hair.

She was my everything.

My eyes flit open as the dream leaves me like a whisper in the wind, carried away to sea. I try to grab it with my fingertips, but it escapes me. So I lay back in the strange bed, even though I've slept here before. Alice was kind enough to lent me her room, after Carlisle sedated me. At first, I was uncomfortable with the idea of having any sedatives near me, after my history, but Carlisle assured me that I'd be fine. He explained it was needed at the moment, but did apologize for using it. I don't blame him, the last thing I remember is walking out of school, and waking up in Alice's room.

Carlisle explained that he'd refer me to a mental health professional that he trusts, after explaining the amnesia as being part of a panic attack. The news of it all felt like an anchor around my throat, dragging me down.

I want to stand up and go out, act like I still have the world in my palms, but the knowledge of what happened, weighs me down. It has been a few days already, and with this streak, I'll be asked to attend summer school, or redo my year. Exhausted, even though I just woke up, I run my hand down my face, feeling the effect of not having followed my skincare routine the past few days. I throw the comforter off my legs, and walk to the bathroom, hoping Alice won't mind if I use some of her products.