Revival Of Stars

7 | Waste of Time

CHAPTER 7
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Nine years ago, when Etta was only ten years of age, she did something despicable. One that warranted a great deal of yelling, lectures, and punishments. One that stuck out like a poison needle, injecting itself into every one of her happy memories.

Her dear mother had fallen gravely ill again, but much worse—bags under her eyes, sunken-in cheeks, alabaster skin that felt clammy, and frail limbs that moved too little. It had scared Etta, to the point where she had nightmares every night of her mother wailing, crying, heaving. Along with the absence of a father, Etta and her mother were struggling: food, drinks, comfortable clothes, a proper treatment—they were all scarce. Which was why it had taken almost everything they had to finally call for a doctor.

After her much needed check-up, the doctor explained to the both of them about the medicine needed to successfully help her from the vial sickness. Etta remembered her mother shaking her head woefully; it was too expensive.

Which was when the despicable idea had popped into her mind. After multiple days of thinking—which were days spent wasting away as her mother continued grow paler—Etta finally decided to go with the plan.

On that damned night, Etta stood in front of a convenient store sitting snug in the corner of a street in Main Wispern. She had walked inside, then, to which she quickly snuck to the back, where the employer paid no heed. With clumsy fingers, she grasped the bottles that the doctor had told her about.

But she was only ten years old.

A desperate girl, yearning for her mother's safety, grasping for a purpose that'd make her useful, other than the dead-weight she was at home.

Inevitably, she was caught.

Tight, thick fingers curled around her wrist. A yell, one so disastrous and heated, filled her ears. Little Etta had never felt so defeated, embarrassed.

The employer walked her home that same night, and hashed out his complaints to Etta's mother who listened brokenheartedly in bed. Since Etta had already taken the pills, the employer forced them to pay for it up front, which left them insolvent.

After that, Etta's mother regarded her with a stoic expression. For days, she had spoken to her less and asked for her less. Instead of anger, her mother gave looks of disappointment—which left a deeper scar. So, to compensate for her misdeed, Etta started working as a storyteller years later, weaving the stories that her mother had narrated, and making a profit off of it. With the money, they began to get better, and her mother had gotten healthier.

However, ever since that day, the look of chagrin and disappointment oozing from her mother's expression plastered itself in Etta's mind.

And that familiar rush of embarrassment coursed through Etta's veins as she slowly crept through the living room of the grand mansion, waltzing ever so slowly towards the back doors. Out through the window, Etta could see the Stars lighting up the black sky, and she swore that she saw one twinkle—her mother, staring down at her in disappointment, she presumed.

'First, stealing. Now, breaking and entering? What happened to my sweet child?' It was in her mother's gentle voice, suddenly formulating in her mind as she crept along.

Slowly, slowly, Etta moved forward, carefully placing her feet on the flooring so as to not make any noise.

Although the mansion was huge, any sound could surely echo throughout the house, right? At least that's what Etta kept in mind as she trudged forward.

But when she moved passed the velvet couches, a pair of hands curled around her wrist, and Etta was suddenly back in that convenience store.

She flinched in surprised and looked down.