The Labyrinth Heiress

Chapter 3

Rowan~ 

Burning

The ash clings on to me, as my home goes up into flames. I stumble through the hall, the inferno devouring everything in its path. Photos of my family, our belongings, becoming nothing but piles of filth. My eyes begin to sting, my breathing becoming heavy.

"Alivia!" I cry out, attempting to hack out the soot and ash clinging in my throat, the lingering grains enabling me to take a proper breath.

"Mom, Dad?" I reach the foot of the stairs, gripping what remains of the banister, seeing a small figure standing at the top.

Alivia.

I began to crawl up the stairs, dragging my listless body until I could rest my eyes on my little sister. She peers down at me, so small for her age, only 7 years old. I wrap my body around her, clutching her sweaty palms.

"Liv-" I breathe out. My arms and legs feel like a dead weight, a gruesome burn covering my right hand.

"Where's Mom and Dad-" I ask, trying to take a breath, gripping her shoulders, my voice threatening to tremble. I hear my heart pounding in my ears, blocking out the sound of the walls tumbling down. My vision starts to haze, the smoke getting in my eyes, only leaving my sister and the vibrant reds and oranges of what is left of my home in my field of vision.

Alivia just shakes her head, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, holding our mothers beloved hair pin, one that has been passed down from generation to generation and my fathers switchblade. Both family heirlooms. Each hand clutching what is left our parents.

"No. no. NO-" my voice breaking, knowing what she was trying to convey. My shoulders began to shake as I tried to hold in a sob threatening to rack my body. My knees buckle under me. Alivia grips my waist as I tuck my chin on top of her head. I hold her as the house goes up in flames. I stand there at the top of the stairs for lord knows how long. The heat threatens to consume me, to bury me alive as I become buried in the grief of my parents. The smoke billows around me, tearing down the final memories that I have left of them. Alivia and I sat there, clutching each other, accepting what our life had come to. As I fade in and out of consciousness, my body covering my sisters, I take a last glimpse of my surroundings and find strong arms around me, holding me close. I start to think it's over, that my dad is here and everything will be alright.

"It's okay, Rowan, you are going to be okay, I promise, just stay with me-" A voice whispers in my head as I finally fade out of consciousness. I don't know why, but I smile at myself, finding comfort in voice replaying in my mind.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

My eyes spring open, gasping for air. I look down to where my sister is silently sleeping, tucked into my side and attempt to calm my breathing. I ball my hands into fists.

"In and out, Rowan, you're okay, you're alive-" I repeat to myself in my mind. When my heart goes back to its steady beat, I stare down where my sister is sleeping. So peaceful, youthful, filled with love for people, always with an unwavering sense of joy. I strive to be like her, optimistic despite the horrors she's had to endure. The loss of our parents still haunts her, where some nights she holds onto me like a precious jewel that she is unable to lose grip of. And when she begins to tremble, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, all I can do is hold her, comfort her, make sure she knows that she isn't alone in these night terrors.

I carefully get out of bed, throwing the covers, making sure not to wake her and get ready for the day ahead of me. Once I'm dressed, I check the right pocket of my worn pants, and find my fathers switchblade and my mothers hairpin. I first pull out the switchblade, balancing it on my index finger, clicking the button where the dual edges open and retract. Somedays, when the grief of my parents hits me the hardest, I repeatedly open and retract the switchblade. The constant motion soothes me somehow, knowing I have something to protect myself helps calm my thoughts. I will never be defenseless ever again. I trace my thumb over the base of the switchblade, where beautiful swirls and patterns are engraved on the golden hilt, with an alluring purple stone resting in the middle.

Once when I was ten, my father told me something that has stuck with me ever since;

"Sometimes, Rowan, even in the midst of peace, one must be ready to protect oneself. A weapon such as this one should never be born out of desire for violence, but out of the necessity to protect. To survive. And when that day comes, I will give you this and you will learn to wield it not with strength, but with your wits."

I retract the blades and slip it back into my pocket, reaching for my mothers hairpin. My mother always wore beautiful golden jewelry, and had an extensive collection of golden hairpins that had been passed down from each generation of women in her family lineage. I swish my hand around in my pockets and come up empty. My heart beats faster, and my hands shake slightly. I empty out all of my pockets, only coming up with the bag of Solaras and my switchblade. My mind reels back to my encounter with the young man. I must've dropped it when I hastily walked away, avoiding being caught and seen. My eyes began to well up in tears, I fisted my switchblade in my trembling hand. The only piece left of my mother was gone, and I was to blame. I sucked in a shaky breath. I would get that pin back, not because I need it, but I owe it to my sister. It was the only remaining piece she had. I screwed my eyes shut and began to count my breaths, wishing for a warm embrace from my mother, determined to find it.