Where the Wounds Bloom

Chapter Thirteen: Cigarettes

Months had passed, and the air had shifted. The dark shadows that loomed over Kari and Skye seemed to lighten bit by bit. Somatic experiencing, therapy, and the hard, unglamorous work of healing were slowly helping them leave the past behind. They shared meals again, even laughed sometimes. It wasn't perfect, but it was a far cry from where they had been.

On an ordinary Tuesday evening, Skye found herself in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and humming to a song that played softly on the radio. She liked these quiet moments, the rhythmic chop of the knife, the warmth of the stove. It felt like a kind of progress-a sign that life could settle into some kind of peace.

But then, the doorbell rang. A sharp, unexpected sound that cut through the calm.

Skye wiped her hands on a towel, her brow furrowing as she made her way to the front door. She couldn't think of who it might be; they rarely had visitors, and it was too late for a package. When she opened the door, she froze.

Standing there, framed by the doorway, was a figure from a life she had tried to forget. Their mother, Tommie. Her hair was the same, though tinged with more gray than before, and her face bore the same weariness that Skye remembered all too well. But it was the smell-the familiar cloying scent of cheap perfume mixed with the faintest hint of cigarettes-that hit her hardest, sending memories crashing through her mind.

Skye's mouth went dry as she stared at her mother, words catching in her throat. Her hands clenched into fists, her knuckles whitening as the surge of anger she thought had faded bubbled back to the surface, raw and fierce.

"Skye," Tommie said, her voice carrying a familiar tremor, like she was testing the waters, unsure of her reception. "It's been a while."

Skye took a step back, trying to keep her composure, but she couldn't stop the edge in her voice. "Yeah. It has. What are you doing here, Mom?"

Tommie shifted her weight, glancing past Skye into the house like she was expecting to see the little girls she had left behind. "I, uh, I wanted to see you both. I thought it was time we talked. I've been... working on myself."

Skye felt a bitter laugh claw its way up her throat, but she swallowed it down. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep her voice steady. "Talk? Now you want to talk? After all this time? You think we need you here?"

Her mother flinched, a pained expression crossing her face. "I know I made mistakes, Skye. But I'm trying to make things right. I just want a chance to explain-"

"To explain what?" Skye interrupted, her voice rising. "That you left us, again and again? That every time we thought maybe-just maybe-you were going to stick around, you disappeared? That you cared more about your stupid gambling and your friends than you ever did about us?"

The words spilled out of her, sharper and louder than she intended, but once she started, she couldn't stop. A lifetime of anger and abandonment clawed its way out of her chest.

Tommie looked down, her hands twisting the strap of her worn-out purse. "I know, Skye. I know I hurt you. But I've changed. I'm not that person anymore."

Skye scoffed, shaking her head as she stared at the woman in front of her. "You think we're just going to forget everything you did? Like it's that easy? You can't just walk back into our lives when it's convenient for you."

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on them both. Tommie's lips trembled like she was searching for the right words, but none came. And Skye, standing in that doorway, felt the same familiar ache she'd felt so many times as a child-longing for something she knew she'd never have.

And then, like a wave, the past washed over her.

---

She was eight years old again, sitting on the floor of their small living room with Kari, the sound of cartoons on the TV barely covering the noise from the other room. Tommie's voice, slurred and loud, drifted through the walls as she chatted and laughed with her friends around the kitchen table. Skye could smell the smoke from the cigarettes that filled the air, the scent mixing with the stale odor of takeout containers.

"Where's Mom?" Kari asked, her voice small and uncertain as she looked up at her older sister.

"She'll be back soon," Skye lied, pulling Kari closer and wrapping an arm around her. "She just needs a little more time."

But deep down, she knew better. This was how it always went-Tommie would leave them with promises that she'd be back soon, only to disappear for days, weeks even. Sometimes, she'd come home with bags of groceries and a smile that didn't reach her eyes, acting like nothing had happened. Other times, she wouldn't come back at all.

Skye clenched her jaw, trying to block out the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. She squeezed Kari's hand tightly, willing herself to be strong enough for the both of them.

---

The flashback faded, but the ache remained, throbbing inside her like an old wound that had never quite healed. Skye's hands were shaking as she returned to the present, her breath ragged in her chest. And then she heard the faint clatter of glass behind her.

Kari stood frozen in the hallway, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at the woman standing on their doorstep. The glass of water she had been holding lay shattered at her feet, water spreading in a glistening puddle across the floor.

"Kari..." Tommie began, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Kari didn't seem to hear her. Her face went pale, and she took a step back, bumping into the wall behind her. Her eyes darted from Skye to their mother, the horror clear in her expression.

Skye swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment settle over all of them. She stepped closer to her sister, shielding her slightly with her body as if she could protect her from whatever pain was coming next.

"Mom," Skye said, her voice colder now, more controlled. "You need to leave."

Tommie's face crumpled, and for a moment, she looked like she might argue. But then she glanced at Kari's stricken face and seemed to think better of it. She nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping as she backed away from the doorway.

"I'll go," she said, her voice cracking. "But I just want you both to know... I'm sorry. I really am."

She turned and walked back down the front steps, her figure fading into the shadows of the street. Skye stood there, watching until her mother was out of sight, until the sound of her footsteps had disappeared into the night. Then she turned back to Kari, pulling her sister into a tight embrace.

"It's okay," Skye whispered into Kari's hair, her own voice wavering. "She's gone. It's just us now. It's always been just us."

Kari clung to her, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps. And Skye held on, hoping that maybe, this time, they could find a way to move past the ghosts that had haunted them for so long.