My Daughter Or You

6) Mother

Taylor-

Taylor woke up to someone caressing his cheek. He groans and rolls to his side, and falls off the couch.

"Shit," he sat up and sighed.

"Taylor?"

Taylor froze. He kept calm and looked up. His mother stares at him. Her bright green eyes had a shine that wasn't there before. Her blonde hair was in a long braid down her back. She wore a long maxi flora dress and white slippers.

"Taylor?" She reached for him, but he flinched away. She pulled back and gripped the shawl she had over her shoulders. "Sorry, you must hate me."

Taylor stood and shocked himself. He didn't know his mother was so short. She's petite.

"No, I don't hate you," he sighed. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

She smiled. "You have grown; you're as tall as your father."

Taylor didn't expect his mother to speak about Luther.

"Yeah," he rubs the back of his neck, unsure what else to say. He drops his hand. "I should go; the front door got fixed and the barrier up; you'll be safe."

She grabbed his hand and examined it. "Stay for breakfast; what happens to your pinky?"

"Caught it in the door," he lied. "And I should go; I have a daughter waiting for me at home."

She looks up. "I'm a grandmother?"

"Yes," he smiled. "I'll bring Sapphire next time."

"Sapphire?" She smiled. Taylor didn't name his daughter Sapphire for no reason. It's a name his mother picked out if she ever had a girl. He found it in her diaries.

"Here you are," the doctor smiled. "Mary, breakfast is ready; come today, we will try solids. Taylor, are you staying?"

"No, I have to go; my daughter is waiting," he said.

"But you did say you would leave once Luther arrived," the doctor pointed out. Taylor had hoped she had forgotten.

"Fine, I'll stay," he didn't have a choice.

"I'm glad," Mary grabbed his hand.

They went to the dining table, set for three people. Of course, for him, the doctor and his mother.

He took his coffee black and took out a pill.

"What's that?" Mary asked.

"Medication," he swallows the pill.

"For what?"

"Suppressing my, my other self," he grabbed a warm buttermilk biscuit and smeared strawberry jam over the fluffy bread.

"Your demon?"

Taylor stopped mid-bite. He turns to the doctor. "Have you guys been shifting in front of her?"

"No," she said. "As I said in the reports I sent your father, your mother is progressing. She's been asking about you. And talking about your birth."

Taylor bit into the buttermilk biscuit and glanced at his mother, who slowly ate a slice of peach. He doesn't want her to remember that day. He knows how much she suffered.

Mary looked up and smiled. "I remember when you were born, you had little horns, little wings, and little tail; your skin was a gray color, your toes and fingers were tainted black, and your eyes were pitch black. You were a cute baby."

Taylor groaned. "Mother, don't speak about it; I know it wasn't how you imagined it now."

"Taylor," the doctor sighed. "You should know someone bewitched your mother."