Pearly gates. Not heaven, but my hell. My shoes scrape against the cement. The driveway looks so much longer than I remember. It loops and curves up hills and settles right before the large, blueish house at the peak. The house doesn't seem too badly burnt, I can notice from the edge of the drive black spots of burn on the distal edges of the home. A yellow strip: Authority Line Do Not Cross. I step over it, my dress blows up in the wind as I lurch forward. One step two, I walk up of the driveway. I imagine myself: I open up the front door and lead myself into the kitchen. Eunice and the other housekeepers cry in happiness. They pull me into the kitchen and my mother and Lily greet me with hugs and love. Would I not go back to Rave Tempest? Would I stay with my family, now that my father is gone? I wonder what my life is to become as approach the front door.
A gold plate reads Evanoff. I run my fingers over the cool, precious metal. It triggers memories; some are happy and some make me want to cry. My fingertips linger on the doorknob. I'm afraid to open it, I slowly turn it. The satisfying click of the door reaches my ear drums. I open the door, the interior is so silent it startles me. The floor is littered with debris and trash. I follow down the right wing of the house.
The windows and chandelier were repaired since I've fought with Flint. The tiles look as perfect as they were when first placed. Beams of slow, morning light are sucked into the crystals of the chandelier and shot out in beams of quartz. I catch the profile of my reflection in the large, glass windows. I don't look I belong here anymore. I tried to look nice today, a simple sundress and low heeled shoes. If I still lived here, I'd walk down this hallway looking completely different. A dress made for my body, decorated with ornate flowers and watercolor print. Shoes that cost more than I've made so far working for the Team. Hair would've been pinned behind my head in a low bun, with the wispy, loose pieces sprayed back and held with pins. I allow my hair to drop behind my back, I don't have a dress code anymore. This air tastes like captivity, the air at home tastes like freedom.
I come to the door of Lily's bedroom. I peer into it. It's clean, neat tucked bed sheets and smooth pale pink linens. It's to her standards and likings. I assume she must be around the house somewhere. I do wonder, in fact, how the trash became apparent at the front of the house. I quickly shut her door, allowing myself to check my own bedroom out. The doorknob leading to my room seems jammed. I plunder my body into the door in order to crank it open. I grunt as I shove my weight into it. It cracks the slightest bit, but I am able to slip through. The interior was nothing I expected. From ceiling to floor, the floral, delicate wallpaper was scratched. It looks like it has been done by a wild animal. The mattress on my bed has been thrown and flipped over. All my glass figures have my shattered to thousands of unfixable bits. I drop my bag to the ground in a fit of surprise I stare at my reflection in the broken mirror. The gold frame accents the shards of glass. In red lipstick, boldly written, says 'Celestia must die'. I swallow my tongue, unable to react. I decide that I've seen enough, I slip off the clothes I've traveled in to slip on the clothes I've brought to mourn. I button the pure black blouse up to my chin and tie a white ribbon around my neck. The skirt settles just above my hips and I smooth out the wrinkles.
I'm ready to tell my father goodbye.
•••
I have déjà vu. A sweet harmonious echo fills the nape of the entrance to the kitchen. I hear the sizzle of a lunch being made and singing voice of a woman. My instincts say to follow it, because it reminds me of Echo. A reckless but, safe place. I feel remorse about what I said to him. I feel remorse about how we acted toward each other days before the ball and the night of the fated day. I can't help but to wonder if he hates me. He might wish that I stay at this house and never return home. The doorway into the kitchen is filled with aroma and spicy sweetness. The song being sung is clear, it is a lullaby. Used to pacify me to sleep as baby, I remember it.
