The Witch's Toy ✔

4: pandora's box of demons

"Why here?" I looked up at my mother, large round eyes watching her as she rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed.

There were dark crescents under her eyes and her usually smooth hair was unkempt, only tamed just enough by the hair-tie that brought it back into a low bun. She had been like this ever since dad passed away. Almost a half a year had gone by and yet, I could tell that she wouldn't be getting any better soon. I'd mentioned she see someone about her insomnia, but she refused help. I wish she would take it. She needed it.

"I want you to stay at wai-po's place for a while," she said softly, offering me a weak smile. "Mama has a lot of things to take care of."

I held onto her hand, not moving to let it go despite her clear intentions. "I can help." I shook my head. "I don't want to leave you."

She let go of my hand, then crouched down to look at me eye-to-eye. Her hands came up to my shoulders, squeezing. "Yu Rui, you have to understand that things are different since baba left us. Mama can't work and take care of you at the same time. Once I find a stable job — once mama can work and take care of you — I'll come back and get you from here, okay?"

I didn't say anything for a few moments, considering her words. My eyes searched hers, wondering what she could be hiding from me. I knew there was something, but I also knew she didn't want me to pry. She didn't want me to know.

I smiled brightly, nodding. "Okay, mama. I'll be waiting for you."

A look of relief spread across her face. She ducked her head down for a second, letting out a breath of air, then looked up again at me, a grateful smile on her face. "Thank you so much, my little Yu. You know that mama loves you, right?"

I nodded.

She stood, taking a pink suitcase from the trunk of the car before holding her free hand out for me to take.

I wrapped my hand around her's, letting the feeling of her soft hands sink into mine. If I wouldn't be able to see her for a long time, I at least wanted to remember what it felt like to hold her hand.

"Let's go."

My mother fit a key into the lock on the double wrought-iron gates that separated my grandmother from the world. When we passed through, the creaking gates shut by themselves, clicking softly.

I didn't question why my grandmother kept herself isolated from society. I only wore my brightest smile and skipped down the gravel path that led us to her quaint home — a gothic style mansion far from the cities of Hong Kong. Nestled inside a forest barely anyone knew entrance into, she led a life that many people in the area only heard rumors of. She was the famed shaman here, only granting safe passage to those who desperately needed help from her.

I waited patiently as my mother raised her fist to knock on the door. But before she could, someone pulled it back, bending at the waist to give us a deep bow.

When he straightened, gaze fixed on us, and my eyes widened. He had the prettiest shade of orange-brown in his eyes, not an amber, but something more like the saccharine sweet of honey that pooled at his irises. His fair hair was brushed back, curling at the nape of his neck. The sunlight cast shadows on his features and they danced when he moved, carving out the sharp planes and angles of his face.

"You're very pretty, Mister." The words slipped out of my mouth unrestrained, and my mother squeezed my hand as if to tell me to be quiet.

He smiled, bringing a light that reflected off his honey eyes. "Thank you."