Amentia

Chapter 49 - Mother

Azariah was the first one to move, turning sideways to look at Almar. He understood his message and gently removed his arms from around Meira, who was barely blinking and breathing. He slid on the ground towards Az and opened his arms to receive Maylin's body. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to think too much about what he was holding. He licked and bit his lips, frowning, took a deep breath, and stood up. When he found his balance, he began walking towards the bridge. He repressed a sob when he saw Meira catching up with him and grabbing his shirt to walk beside him. He breathed deeply again to try to keep his strength.

Azariah got up and looked at his broken troupe. He exchanged a glance with Ruvyn, who was still holding an extremely traumatized Natalia in her arms. Everyone was holding onto to someone except Zoe. She had not moved a single muscle since she'd fallen to ground, had not shed a tear or cried out in any way. She still had her eyes glued to the spot where Maylin's body had been, seemingly unaware that it was no longer there. Azariah knelt down in front of her to make her get up and found that she offered no resistance; she let herself be pulled up and turned around. Her eyelids were low and her pupils seemed to have lost all spark of life, gazing into the distance, looking at nothing in particular.

Slowly and gently, Az and Ruvyn helped their human children get up from the mud and walk back into town. They were all in different states of grief: Adam and Nina were crying loudly and sniffling together like a couple of kids; Anna shed occasional silent tears as she comforted Meiko in her arms, telling her that there was nothing she could've done; Nati was still being held under Ruvyn's arm and she cried heavy tears as she hyperventilated, her eyes frantic, mumbling something under her short breaths; Zoe was just somewhere else entirely, moving only because Az's hands pushed her forward.

Zoe's mind was away, a whirlwind of emotions ran through her, so many that it was hard to discern them. She knew she was walking, but she couldn't feel her body move or see where she was going. What had happened? Where was she? Why did it feel like she had a hole in the center of her chest? Why did it feel like the world wasn't real? She thought of her mom, but couldn't quite picture her face. It was strange... it should be the easiest face to conjure up in her mind, shouldn't it? But she could only imagine abstract features. Shouldn't she know who her mother was?

She heard distant whispers; they sounded angry and remorseful, desperate and sad. So many emotions at the same time. She couldn't understand what they were saying; there was something keeping her from hearing them well, like a veil. She was walking in the dark, following the whispers but unable to reach them. She just wanted to see her mom's face. This was important. But a small piece of her mind kept the image from her; she could sense the place where it was hidden but it was difficult to pierce through. Did she want to pierce through? Or was it because the whispers told her to? The image finally began forming. At first it resembled her own face but with more lines on the skin; the hair was shorter and the cheeks were chubbier, but there was a striking similarity in the features. This was the wrong image. This was not her mother. The face she was seeing had not taken care of her; it had not listened to her; it had not truly loved her. The whispers erased the image without her asking. They wanted her to see her real mom; they insisted, they made her push through despite her mind's resistance. And so a different picture began taking shape. This one did not resemble her at all: the hair was curly and enormous, there were horns on the forehead, the skin was much darker, and the mouth much wider.

You're not my mother and I don't want you to be!

The sound of her own voice rose above the whispers and shot through her heart like an arrow, piercing a hole in the very center of her being.

She heard something crack inside her, the glass of a shell she didn't even know was there. Suddenly she could see the outside world again, hear its sounds and smell its scents, and found herself arriving to the caravan. Her own voice kept echoing in her mind, unrelenting. And the whispers were still there, indecipherable, adding more cracks to the already broken shell. She felt a pressure in her chest. The image of Maylin's face burned in her mind.