Flames of Ember

53| Worth of Silver Coins.

* AMBER ERIN ANDERSON *

"I think this looks good?" Ember and I both looked at the mirror, him staring at himself deeply, eyebrows frowned as I gave his new haircut one last look. Ember didn't give me any specific details -- he simply told me to cut it in a way so that he could blend in with others, without attracting much attention to himself. I thought of all the ways to cut his hair and finally gave him one that suited him: a decent wolf cut with heavy layers around the sides, making his white locks voluminous and ending it before his nape.

I patted the back of his hair, keeping the hair in place as it smoothened upon my touch and gave one last trim at the end of his hair, making sure the ends were even.

"Looks better than before," he looked up, grinning at me, ruffling his hair. "Where did you learn to do these?" He looked around, amazed at all the products I used on him.

"My mom owns a hair salon. Learned it from her," I shrugged, putting away the scissors. "She could've done better than me. She's an amazing hairstylist."

"I would love to meet her," he said, his smile smaller than before. "And your family."

"How was my biological family like, Ember?" I couldn't help but ask, even though it wasn't the right time to ask about this, but I wanted to know about my identity so bad that the question slipped away from my tongue. It was obvious I wasn't from here but from his world and it didn't take me hours to figure out that I was sent here using his Portal Creations.

His Adam's apple bobbed, his smile dropping. "You didn't have a father. Your mother was abusive towards you. She always hurt you and you would run away from home all the time."

My expression remained neutral, my heart tightening against my chest. "Oh," I bobbed my head. "What happened to my father?"

"I don't know," he said, his voice covered in regret and disappointment. "I asked about him to you but you always said he left you and your mother before you were born."

I swallowed, not knowing how to feel about all of this -- I was never an orphan -- I always had parents, I always had a mother and even saw her, I knew my mother but she was unkind towards me, and my father had left me. Was being an orphan better than that? Was me being ridiculed for growing up in an orphanage better than that? Was me being looked down upon by my foster parents' relatives better than that?

"Did I have any siblings?" I asked, my voice suddenly quiet.

He shook his head. "You were an only child," he then stood up from the chair, facing me. "Erin," he stepped closer, his eyes softening. "I know what my mother did to you was unforgivable and no matter how many times—"

"It was not your fault," I managed to say, the words stuck in my throat. "Your mother must have had her reasons for doing what she did. One way or another, she must have saved me and we just don't know about it,"

"I'd have never found my real family without your mother. I would've never met Nathan, my friends, and my brother. She might be the reason I became an orphan here, but she's pretty much the reason I was also able to find a family that loved me," I said, feeling my throat getting sour.

"My mother never forgave herself for what she did. I never saw her smile after that day," he said, his voice meek.

"What happened to your mother?" I asked.