I curled up into a tight ball against Claire, forcing my eyelids to stay open. There was a lot of conversation happening around me, but I made myself not privy to any context. Their voices were heated, animated, and sorrowful. Emotions flowed off of them, the auras almost suffocating me.
The house looked different than when I lived here. Instead of it being in a state of disarray, it was clean. There were little hints of terminal illness, mostly in the medical equipment spread around the house. Bandages, hospital water jugs, and a commode. Pillows to alleviate legs and deter bed sores.
It wasn't that long ago. Did it really happen that fast?
A hand nudged me. "Aria?"
"Mmh?" I looked up at Claire, blinking slowly.
"What's my name?"
"Claire Evangeline St. James."
"Who is the president of the United States?"
I giggled. "How is the best case scenario Joe Biden?"
She chuckled and rubbed my head, turning back to the conversation at hand. I settled back into the recesses of my mind, my eyes sweeping around the room. The walls were void of any personal items, just as they were before. The air smelled different, more pleasant than spilled wine and soured milk.
"She left a note for her," Derek said, ruffling through his messenger bag.
A note?
I sat up a little. Imani, Raine, and Claire stared at me warily, like I was fragile. Truthfully, I was. But I just gave them a small smile.
Derek grunted. "Here it is," he handed it across the coffee table to me. "There."
I grabbed the crinkled, folded paper with the tips of my fingers. Claire tightened her grip on me and I felt her breath on my ear. I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't see anything outside of that piece of paper. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I unfolded it and began to read.
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I let out a shaky breath, my own tears falling onto the already tear-stained note. Mine mixed with hers, a tale of bitter sorrow. I read it at least three times before crumpling it in my hand. Paper is such a fragile material, easy to manipulate, easy to bend to your desires. It's hard to believe that it comes from one of the most stable flora in the world, that once could only be brought down by nature's rage and eroding age.
"You know about her will?" I rasped out, not looking up.
"Y-yeah, I do," Derek confirmed, awkwardly.
"How long have you been here?"
"About a year, give or take," he murmured. "She called me saying she was sick, terminal, and she needed someone at the house..."
