For The Love Of History

Chapter 1

▪️O C T A V I A▪️

The first death that I ever saw was that of my mother.

It was an image I would never forget, for as long as I lived. There she lay, my beloved mother, her once vibrant tresses reduced to a mere whisper of their former glory. Frail and delicate, her crimson locks now hung lifeless, cascading onto the sterile hospital pillow. With each laboured gasp, she clung to the fading remnants of life, caught in the throes of a merciless struggle against her impending fate.

The room, shrouded in an eerie silence, was pierced only by the relentless beeping of the heart monitor, its haunting rhythm echoing through the hollow chambers of my young heart. Such a vision, so laden with grief and despair, was something that no child should ever have to witness, especially in the form of a dream.

Now that I was older, I saw death the moment my eyes locked with another person's.

Unfortunately for me, I had come to perceive death lurking within the depths of every gaze exchanged between myself and another. It is said that the eyes are the windows to our souls, for me, it was more like a doorway into their future. Through these ethereal entryways, I was bestowed with glimpses of their imminent demise, an unwelcome gift beyond my command or volition.

I had no control over these visions, no matter how much I yearned to hold sway over their unwelcome intrusion. Consequently, I honed the skill of conversing with people without needing to meet their gaze.

Letting out a sigh, I refocused my attention.

For the last few minutes, I had been standing in line, eagerly waiting to clear immigration at the Edinburgh Airport. Amidst the discord of announcements and the steady hum of conversations around me, I patiently waited for it to be my turn.

The melodic giggles of the adorable toddler in front of me caught my attention. Her cherubic countenance beaming with unbridled joy, she possessed a crown of fiery red curls that danced in harmony with each infectious burst of laughter. Her wide cerulean eyes sparkled with a mischievous glimmer, mirroring the untainted innocence that enveloped her being.

Unable to keep my gaze away any longer, our eyes locked, and I inhaled sharply as the vision of the little girl's tragic fate unfolded before me. A grim realization settled in, she would meet her demise as a young adult by choking on a grape during her babymoon, tragically taking her unborn child with her.

"Aren't you a cutie?" I murmured, my hands itching to reach out and touch the child's curls.

There was something about red hair that always got me overly excited. I had no explanation for it but I always felt like there was a sort of magnetic pull, an undeniable fascination that captivated my senses.

It was then that the child's mother turned to me with a smile.

"Aye, a right cutie she is, until she starts wailing like a banshee." The lady laughed, then commented, "That's an interesting accent you have, where are you from if you don't mind me asking?"

Keeping my eyes lowered, I returned her smile, "I'm from the Caribbean."

"Oh! Lovely weather you have there!" The lady was about to say something else, but she was suddenly called to the counter. Before moving on, she quickly added, "Welcome to Scotland!"

Nodding, I got lost in my thoughts for a bit.

After months of anticipation, I could hardly believe that I was finally in Scotland. My heart raced with excitement, knowing that my best friend, Emily Hutchison, would be eagerly awaiting my arrival as soon as I cleared the baggage area.