Eclipse Child |✔|

|29|

Be careful-

The devil can hear your prayers too. 

***

I go back to the pack house, holding my head up and not letting it be known just how much my chest hurt inside.

My feet wander to the back porch.

And there she is.

Mom sits on one of the chairs, content to paint the sky as she hums tunelessly away.

Dad sits next to her, his eyes watching her movements the whole time. Looking at them only makes my chest hurt more.

Dad is the first to notice me. He gives me a rare small smile before his eyes freeze at the mark on my shoulder.

Slowly his stands. I brace myself, waiting for whatever onslaught of emotion he would bring.

Silently he embraces me, giving me a short, brief hug before he walks inside the pack house.

Mom looks up curiously at dad's retreating back. She is not as observant as him.

It takes her a second longer to catch sight of the new feature I display on my skin.

"Soraya..." she smiles as I sit next to her, taking dad's chair, "congratulations."

I don't smile back. In this moment I didn't feel like I had succeeded in anything.

She notices my mood, setting aside her paints and slowly wiping her hands on her already stained shirt.

"What is it?"

I remain silent, not knowing how to form my words. Instead, I turn to her and look at her clean shoulder.

I had never noticed it until today that it held no mark.

Guilt washes into me for having not noticed such an important thing. I knew why dad didn't have one on his shoulder. That much was obvious. But I never questioned mom...

"Where is your mark?"

Mom blushes, the color so easy to stain her cheeks as she looks behind her to the pack house.

"What do you mean?"

I point to her empty shoulder, but she only smiles.

"No one said it had to be there."

I frown, "but that's...it's always..."

"Soraya...everything doesn't have to be black and white."

To prove her point she waves her colorful, paint-stained hands.

Her smile only grows wider as she points to her wrists, "here."

I stare at her skin, the sight obscured and covered by paint. I didn't want to question the specifics of it with her, but even she could read the confusion on my face.

"Of course, I washed my hands..."

My eyes widen in surprise. I couldn't remember a time mom didn't have paint on her hands.

I want to question why there. I can tell she wants me to ask. The question and answer are hanging on both our lips. But instead, I ignore it, moving away from the topic as I lean back into the chair and close my eyes.

She sighs a soft sigh that has me sighing with her.

"Where is Orion?"

"Running in the woods."