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ꜱʟɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀꜱ.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ɪꜱᴀʙᴇʟʟᴀ.
"ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ; ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ɪᴛ."
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͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ.
In which (y/n) thought she had seen the last of Isabella when she left her at the wall. 19 years later, sh...
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(v.) to bury something deep; to hide
♡♡♡
I ran out of the house knowing one thing: I was going to see my parents.
I needed a radio, I needed new stilts, and I really needed rest, but I wanted nothing more than to be with them again. My mind wasn't even thinking straight as soon as I entered the familiar forest, with air that still smelled the same, and trees that left a sticky sap on my gloves.
It was when I arrived at the entrance of our home that I knew it wasn't going to be so easy.
The tunnel was covered with more than a leafy tarp and some shrubs. Numerous rocks and sheets of dirt blocked the opening. I had to squeeze myself inside. Remnants of their existence hardly remained. There was a kitchen, barely. It was missing the tools and love that made it a kitchen. There was a living room with no furniture. A hall with no pictures. A home without warmth. Nomads. Of course they left. The only thing tying them down was me.
Still, I couldn't find it in me to be discouraged. If anything, I was only more eager to find them. To hide and seek. Sonju was a master at both. This was a test for me. My mouth curves into a grin. I begin to scale the house.
Despite my father's overprotective nature over my mother, he would never deny her from seeing me- not that she would let him. I was positive there was some clue in the tunnels, some message only I would find, to lead me to them. I've lived in this place for years. It would be embarrassing if I managed to skim over a clue.
My hands graze the naked walls of the tunnels. Luckily, there's still a glimpse of light in the tunnel from the bioluminescent moss, but it is by no means well-lit. I have to squint to see three feet in front of me. I'm left to rely on memory alone, shutting my eyes to focus better. These tunnels were dangerous. One wrong turn and you wouldn't see daylight again. He knows that...so maybe...
I start to breeze through the tunnels as if it were easy. My parent's room was my first stop. I turn a corner and waltz in.
Everything else is missing. Everything but their bed has disappeared. The bed I had crawled into so frequently years prior, where my mother fed me soup when I got sick, where I hid when my father was looking for me during a game of hide and seek. It wasn't the same, stripped of its soft sheets and blankets of furs. There were no more giant pillows to throw around or build forts with.
But there was a bed, and that was enough of a clue.
I drop to my stomach, attempting to peer under the bed with no success. I reach underneath, trying to feel anything other than the dirt off the floor and the wooden beams supporting the bed. There's a clatter. Bingo. My arm had hit a small box. I knew it like the back of my own hand, and could probably trace the swirls of my mother's bubbly handwriting by now. Mementos, it read.
