Fading Echoes

Chapter 01

As I sat in front of the mirror, combing through my hair, memories flooded back, like waves crashing against the shore of my mind. I remembered the gentle touch of my mother's hands, the way she used to comb my long hair with such tenderness, as if each stroke carried a whisper of love.

One particular memory stood out, a moment when my mother's voice filled the room, her words wrapping around me like a warm embrace. "My dear," she said, her eyes soft with affection, "remember, love begets love. By pouring your heart into others, you invite love into your own life."

Oh, how I believed her then, with all the innocence of childhood.

But now, as I sit here, comb in hand, those words feel like a distant echo, fading into the emptiness that surrounds me. Despite pouring out my love to my father and my five brothers, it seems they have built walls around their hearts, walls that I cannot break through. They see me, but they do not truly know me. They hear me, but they do not understand me. And they certainly do not love me in return.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, mingling with the soft hum of the comb as it glides through my hair. How ironic it is that the very lesson my mother taught me now serves as a painful reminder of my loneliness. So here I sit, in front of this mirror, combing through memories and tangled strands alike, longing for the love that seems forever out of reach.

As I gently set the comb down on the dressing table, my fingers trailed over my now-short hair, a twinge of sadness tugging at my heart. I couldn't help but think of how much my mother cherished my long locks, how she used to weave tales into each stroke of the comb with such tenderness. But what was the use of keeping them long now? My mother was gone, her absence leaving a void that nothing could fill.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself up from the chair and descended the grand staircase of our mansion, each step echoing the emptiness that now surrounded me. As I reached the dining table, I took my place, my gaze drifting to the vacant seats that once held my family.

A maid approached, her presence a brief distraction from the ache in my chest. But as she began to serve, I couldn't help but voice the question that weighed heavily on my mind. "Where are they?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, yet filled with longing for the ones who were no longer there.

The maid's eyes fell, her silence speaking volumes. They had left early, without a word or a glance in my direction, leaving me to face another day alone. Anger and hurt simmered within me, a fire threatening to consume the fragile facade of composure I struggled to maintain.

Another breakfast eaten in solitude, another day spent longing for the warmth of family. With a resigned nod, I allowed the maid to continue, the clatter of dishes and cutlery filling the void left by their absence.

After I slowly finished my breakfast, I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, the weight of it feeling heavier than usual against my chest. Stepping outside, I was met by Nathaniel's familiar smile. Nathaniel has been around for about three years now, helping me out with whatever I need. Whether it's getting me to school or running errands, he's always there. He's kind of like a jack-of-all-trades in my life. Whenever I need something, he's the first person I think of asking. He's not just a driver or a helper; he's also someone who tries to cheer me up when my family gets me down. It's like he's the only one who really gets how I'm feeling sometimes. Sometimes I feel like he knows me better than my own family. As I approached him, he greeted me with a cheerful "Good morning, miss." But my heart was heavy with sadness, weighing me down like an anchor, and I couldn't muster the strength to offer even the smallest courtesy in return.

Silently, I made my way to the back seat of the car, sinking into the familiar leather with a heavy sigh. Nathaniel, ever perceptive, took note of my sad look as he settled into the driver's seat. I could feel his gaze on me through the rearview mirror.

"Are you okay, miss?" His voice broke through the silence, gentle and concerned. I let out a noncommittal hum in response, not trusting my voice to convey the depth of my sorrow.

Sensing my unwillingness to speak, Nathaniel didn't press further, choosing instead to drive me to school in quiet companionship. As the world passed by in a blur outside the window, I couldn't help but feel grateful for his silent understanding, a little source of comfort in the midst of my overwhelming sadness.

I stepped out of the car, silently thanking Nathaniel with a small "Thank you" before he drove away, leaving me to face another day at school. As I glanced at the familiar building, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort. It wasn't because I disliked studying or found the teachers mean; it was because I didn't have any friends there.

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden impact on my back. Stumbling forward, I turned to see Ethan, my youngest brother, glaring at me. "Hey, loser, get out of my way!" his voice rang out, the words cutting through me like knives.

Summoning up a tight smile to mask my hurt, I retorted, "I'm sorry, but I don't recall you owning this school. Besides, why are you playing in front of the main gate? The playground is on the other side, last time I checked."

As Ethan's friends laughed behind him, I couldn't help but notice their mocking glances directed my way. It seemed they weren't much nicer to me than Ethan himself, and I wondered if they took my words, spoken in anger, as some sort of joke.

Ethan's jaw clenched with anger, and he stormed off, his friends trailing after him like obedient followers. I sighed, watching them go. Ethan was supposed to be the closest to me, just a year older than me. With such a small age gap, we should have been best friends, teasing each other and engaging in playful fights, our bond strengthened by a sense of protectiveness over one another. But instead, bitterness had taken root in our hearts, driving us apart rather than bringing us together. It was a sad realization, one that left me feeling more alone than ever.

It hurts, and I won't pretend it doesn't. There was a time when I used to swallow my pain, pretending everything was okay, even when he hurt me over and over again. But as the years went by, I realized that staying silent in the face of his abuse only made things worse for me. It didn't make him love me; it just gave him more power over me.

So I made a choice. I decided to stop pretending that his words didn't hurt, and I started to treat him the same way he treated me. Sometimes, you have to be cold on the outside, even when your heart is burning for them on the inside. It's not easy, but it's the only way I know how to protect myself from getting hurt even more.

With each step, I made my way towards the school, my heart heavy with the weight of the day ahead. How would I manage to get through it when my mood had already been ruined so early on?

In moments like these, I couldn't help but wish she was by my side.

My mother...

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Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. I'm new to writing and still learning, so please bear with me and forgive any mistakes I may have made. This story has been brewing in my mind for so long, but I struggled to find the courage to share it with all of you. Your feedback and support mean the world to me, so I welcome any comments or suggestions you may have. With lots of love, Rhi.