[Sequel to Home]
Years after her heartbreaking relationship with Harry, all Eleanor has to show for it are the memories that haunted her and their beautiful daughter. For the first time in a long time, she thinks its finally all over.
Harry, danger...
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Eleanor P.O.V
I can't name the emotions I was feeling. My mother must have been feeling the same because, she simply sat there. She looked very unsure of what to do.
Neither one of us moved towards the other. Finally, I decided to just say something.
She was my mother. We had both been through alot.
"How are you feeling?" I asked to start off easily.
My mother had always been a beautiful woman. She taught me everything I knew about being a woman. Despite butting heads alot, I have always and will always love her.
I can't imagine a world in where she didn't exist. I didn't want to exist in it any ways. I won't ever stop needing her. I understand that now that have Freya.
I can admit that a part of me will always hold that hurt. You move past it the older you get in order to live a somewhat sane life.
But at that moment, she looked nothing like that woman. The one I knew at least. In my eyes, Clarissa Sauveterra was the bravest woman I knew.
But the woman in front of me looked so broken. She looked like she didn't know herself anymore.
I could relate to that.
"I've been better. You don't look so good yourself. What happened?" My mom questioned, eying my arms closely.
"Don't worry about it." I brushed off easily.
In another lifetime, that would have been a guaranteed slap. I would have never dared, to say that to my mother, in the first place either.
Now it seemed like it doesn't matter.
"You're going to tell me who did it and I hope it wasn't Harry. I'll cut his hands off, I swear." She fumed, getting up and coming closer to me.
I walked back but it was of no use. She grabbed my arm and it extended it length vise. I knew she knew what it was, by the way she gasped.
I wanted to hide it so that I wouldn't have to deal with her looks. I didn't need the pity. I made a choice and I lived with the consequences.
"Are you okay?" My mother questioned softly and the question hit deep.
There was no answer to that. I didn't know where to start.
