✔ Aspen | Sherman Yang

[14.11]

Sherman couldn't help but stare at his mother's leather jacket, which was ripped in several places and stained with patches of blood around the chest area. He ran his shaky hand over the blood which felt cold along his fingers. Miranda looked at him weirdly but he chose to ignore it.

She had her small strappy backpack a few of her siblings gave her and it was stuffed with weird things she had collected form around camp the other day. "Leaving?"

Miranda nodded.

Sherman nodded in return. "I hope you-er, enjoy, or-"

"Enjoyed it here? God Sherman, you make it seem like I'm leaving forever. Are you seriously saying goodbye?" Miranda scowled, the golden sun bouncing on her face making her skin glow. The dusting of freckles were like paint splattered on the palette of her skin.

Or blood.

He used to like the color red. Now it reminded him of his mother's death every day. Yet he never had any time to think about it. 

"No, I was going to say I hope you like it in the Demeter Cabin but I can't make it sound right." He replied, staring into her bronze eyes. "Just trying to be nice."

He could see her eyes softening as they tried to come up with a comeback, yet they decided to be kind to him too and she didn't say anything. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Hey, I'm sorry about your mother." She said, dropping her other bag which was a green duffel, embroiled with golden silk shape of vines. Miranda sat down by his side empathetically and he let out a very shaky breath, trying to control the emotions rushing through his head. Not only did his mother die in front of his eyes, his father figure died with the same bullet. Right when his life seemed perfect, it all rushed away.

He pushed them back and nodded, afraid to show any vulnerability at the moment. "It's fine, go, you have siblings waiting for you."

Miranda nodded and stood up once more, leaving the empty cabin with her duffel.

Sherman sighed, rubbing his face with his hands and flopping down on the supposedly cursed bed. The one friend he had just left, and he still was yet to be claimed. What if he was one of the unclaimed, the one where nobody wanted him? He picked up his mother's leather jacket and brought it to the sink, then soaked it to wash out the stain.

Conner Stoll walked in, seeing him scrubbing the two pieces of leather together and the washed off blood in the sink. There was just so much blood.

So much blood.

His voice was lost as the metallic scent filled the room and he took the bar of soap and repeatedly rubbed it against the stains on the jacket. Conner just stood by, watching him intently without any words. He felt uncomfortable as the twin stared at him and he turned around.

"What do you want?"

Conner didn't say a word.

Sherman scoffed and turned back to washing the jacket.

"You should use this." He whispered.

Conner handed him a small bottle with a purple liquid in it. Sherman took it and popped open the cap, then squirted it into the jacket, and the stains easily removed. He looked at the child of Hermes, who empathetically stared back at him.

"Thank you." He replied, and wrung the leather out, then set it on the windowsill to dry. A perfect shaped hole was pierced in the zipper area, as that was where her heart was. Of course it wasn't near the chest because it wasn't zipped up at the time, but he couldn't help but replay his dying mother in his head.