Breathing Soul

╰┈➤ ❝ [C H A P T E R F O U R] ❞

ONE WEEK EARLIER

   That Sunday evening light streamed through the windows of Aunt Helen's house, casting a soft glow over the kitchen. Rena, dressed in a loose T-shirt and shorts, sipped on a cup of coffee while flipping idly through last Friday's homework. Ren, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, rummaged through the fridge for orange juice.

"That was a short nap," Rena noted, her gaze flicking up briefly from the notebook. Ren looked at her sister, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"Yeah, didn't sleep well," Ren replied, her voice hoarse.

Rena raised an eyebrow, a hint of concern crossing her features. "Same dream?"

"Third time this week.”

Rena's expression softened. She knew that dream well, having woken up to her sister's screams one too many nights. The same dream, a harrowing and haunting loop of images of their dead Mother had been plaguing Ren’s sleep for some time. Flashes of her corpse beneath the cold, washed out morgue's blanket, the smell of rotten flesh and blood, according to Ren. Setting the pen down, she regarded her sister with a gentler gaze. "It's been a year, Ren. Don't you think it's time to talk to Aunt Helen about this?"

"Talk to Aunt Helen about what? My nightmares?" Ren scoffed, downing the orange juice in a few gulps. She slammed the glass on the counter. "So that, what, she could send me away to see a shrink in an asylum somewhere? Because I'm sure she would love the idea of finally being able to put me away since Mom died."

"C'mon, you don't believe that," Rena rebuffed gently, although a small pang of truth resonated with her. She knew Aunt Helen's disdain, the harsh reality of being the unwanted one, was ever present. She shifted in her seat, her gaze on her twin. "Look, I know she can be... difficult. But you know she has been trying her best to keep a roof above us."

Ren's eyes flashed, anger mixing with the usual weariness. "Yeah, by making sure to never forget how unwanted we are," She snapped. "It's always on her mind, you know? Like a constant reminder tattooed on the back of her eyelids... Ren and Rena, the nuisance sisters."

Rena bristled at the words. "You're not being fair," She countered, her voice controlled. "She's not perfect and I'm not defending her. But she is trying. She stepped up when Mom died. She could have sent us to an orphanage or to a different relative, but she didn't."

"And don't you wonder why?" Ren's voice was scathing, her arms folded across her chest. "It's not out of the goodness of her heart, I can assure you. It's because she feels some sick sense of obligation, like a debt she owes to Mom. Or to work us like slaves in the Pier."

"We're not slaves," Rena refuted, her hands clenching involuntarily into fists. "We pull our weight. We do our part. She's given us a roof. Food. Security. What else do you want?"

Ren's eyes flickered, a mixture of frustration and something unsaid. "You really don't get it, do you? It's not about the material things. It's about... us. Being here. Existing. You've seen how she looks at us, like we're shadows. Ghosts," Ren's voice quivered. "...like we're just bitter memories of her dead sister."

Rena fell silent, her gaze dropping. She couldn't deny the truth in Ren's words. The cold, harsh reality of their existence at Aunt Helen's house was like an ever-present fog, shrouding any pretense of normalcy. It was there in Aunt Helen's pinched expressions, in the strained silence at the dinner table, in the constant tension hanging in the air. Rena's overwhelming emotions ran through her like river, making her anger hanging by a thread. "That's enough, Ren. Watch your words."

"Why? Because it's the truth?" Ren's voice was low, filled with anger, hurt, and a myriad of other unspoken emotions. "Or because you'd prefer to live in your little bubble of denial, pretending everything is fine when it's not? Like you always do."