Dalaric "Ricky" Mikael was known for two things; being the country's best assassin and being a silent brute.
His demons enveloped him in darkness and he saw no light at the end of any tunnel.
Until a girl, who's weird and wears nothing but a pair of...
"Even very great things, he meant, can't last forever. Or beautiful things, I suppose. Those too. Things that don't really need replacing except because they fall apart."
- Emma Richler
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"Ms. Morrison? You may see her now." I nod, the door opening with a slight creak after I smile at the sweet nurse.
I feel a warm hand in mine but my eyes are reluctantly stuck to the figure in the room.
She doesn't turn. Her eyes look at the white wall in front of her, her face blank and her cheeks much healthier than before. Mama's hair is cut short to just below her ears. It's healthier. My mama's getting better- at least physically.
"H-Hi Mama! It's me- Maya." The hand in mine tightens, and I feel brave enough to walk forward. She still remains seated on the edge of the white bed, not moving enough to make me feel noticed.
Maybe she's just distracted. I walk, each step laced with uncertainty and determination; both contrasting feelings. Uncertainty, because I don't know how this will end. Determination, because of the hand in mine and the motive to get my mama back. She's in there somewhere.
"How are you, mama?" My voice is soft and wary. I keep it to a low whisper so it doesn't startle her, just in case she doesn't like noise. My voice can be annoying sometimes.
She doesn't answer. The hand in mine turns warmer, and my heart feels lighter and braver.
Be patient, Maya.
"Mama? I want you to meet someone." I grin, my eyes stuck to her form as I pull on the soft, encouraging hand that is clasped in mine.
My grin expands when her head turns, but falters when I see the emotionless look- full of emptiness and a glint of detest.
Be patient, Maya.
Her eyes travel to my right, and a bit higher than my head. She doesn't speak or smile, nor does she frown, leaving me in an even larger bubble of uncertainty that doesn't seem to pop. Maybe she doesn't like speaking anymore.
"It must be nice..." She starts off, her voice soft and quiet as my heart races with hope at her words. She's back, she's finally back. Just hearing her voice without any disappointment or dislike is soothing to me. I can feel her in that body. My mama.
"Yes, Mama?" I ask, inching closer towards her and letting go of the hand in mine, just so I can touch my Mama's stronger ones. Her hands her cold as I take a hold of them, crouching by her side with eager ears.
"It must be nice to think that-" She lets out a sigh, turning her head to face mine completely. My brows furrow when her eyes harden, almost like clay as it dries on a hot day. Her face transforms into a scowl and I cower back, my hand instinctively trying to find the warm one that I held before.
