Change in Heart ▪ Enoch O'Connor

XXIII.

Ash ran as hard as she possibly could, sprinting out of the gates of the house. Tears came to her eyes from both emotion and the wind, but she didn't care enough to wipe them away. Her mother was sick and dying, and Ash wasn't going to stay in her own oasis as she suffered alone. She did not notice that her footprints in the slick grass were black, leaving a perfect trail to follow. Her anger and sadness were seeping out in ways none of the peculiars had ever imagined.

The spirits that were along the way had parted a path for her, their arms drawn to their sides and heads bowed. Ash hardly paid them attention, her mind was too focused on where to step in the bog. She caught sight of the entry to the real world and dove in, almost throwing up at the sudden change of smells. Ash crawled through and her new shoes went straight into a muddy puddle.

Cold rain instantly soaked her skin, but she was warm with anger and from running. She splashed along, looking so out of place in her colorful outfit against the forever grey world. Farmers turned to look at her as they finished tying their cows to wagons and sheeps in pens. She knew this road by heart, even if it has been a while since she had traveled it. Only when her eyes met the house she was born in did she stop running.

She stood perfectly still and even the raindrops around her seemed to fall in slow motion.

Nothing had changed, in fact, it looked just the same as the day she left. But there was no candle burning in the window, no smoke coming from the chimney. She walked up to the door and gulped, hoping her mother wouldn't be upset with her coming back. Opening it, she was torn apart by a lack of the sweet smell that always lingered. There wasn't any warmth, it smelled slightly musty. It was cold and dark.

She was suddenly aware of her trembling legs about to give way and had to grab onto the nearest thing to stop from falling. It was the grandfather clock in their home, their most expensive and cherished item.

"Mom?"

There was no response.

Tears leaked down her face as her chest began to constrict. Looking around her home, she never noticed how small and shack-like it was until she had something to compare it to. She walked back to where her mother's room was, but stopped at the room next to hers. Her old room was bare when Ash had left; she had taken everything with her. But there were pictures she never knew of hanging on the walls. There were awards she had gotten from school and pictures she had painted hanging all around. The baby blue curtains were still tied back just the way Ash liked it. The bed was made, just waiting for Ash to climb in and call it hers again.

She backed out into the hallway and gently shut her door, though she knew she would have never done that.

"Mom?" She tried again into the open air. Louder this time, more heartbroken this time.

She feared the worst as she walked around her old house. It didn't feel the same and she couldn't think of anywhere her mother could have gone. Maybe she went to America; they had both said they were going to go someday. Together. Maybe she went after her husband, he was lost at sea when Ash was nine. It was hard for the both of them, their only source of income had left them. But they managed to get by, or so Ash had thought at the time.

"Mom." Ash breathed.

She stepped out of the door and looked out as she would every morning, when sobs overtook her. Stumbling across the dirt road, she fell to her knees before a picket fence cross that had a name written across it.

Elizabeth Jane Apiston

Her mother was dead.

She wanted to know who said their final goodbyes to her, if not Ash? She wanted to know who found her, if not her child? What did she call in her final breath? Where did she lay until she was found? What was her dying wish? What was her last thought? Ash wanted to know when and why, and all these terrible things running through her mind.

She thought about how she always pictured her mother. Strong yet gentle, witty and wise. It was as though she were a goddess who was incapable of being touched. She was outside of the reach of sickness or ill health for Ash's whole life, or so it seemed. Is this why her mother sent her away?

Her hands held her head and she cried harder than the rain soaking her skin. She hardly felt the arms wrapping around her waist and drawing her close. Or when another set of hands grabbed her arms and pulled her up. Her legs felt like jello and her eyes were blind. Ash couldn't hear anything but her heartbeat thudding in her brain.

Then she was hugging someone who was also crying, her senses coming back to see Enoch staring at a picture on the mantle. Ash hugged Hugh fiercely, as if scared he would vanish if she let go.

The duo stumbled back in the rain just as they were, crying and clutching each other for dear life. Enoch shuffled behind them, hands shoved in his pockets. He kept his head bowed, except for when they got almost out of view of the house. He looked back and caught sight of the little grave. He felt his chest cave, his heart feeling like it felt through the ground. Enoch looked up at the clutching siblings, only imagining how it felt to them. He wrapped his overcoat tighter and trudged through the muddy path.

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"Young lady, it will not be permissible to go running out like that. I had to send two more after you, what would I have done if I had to lose three more." Miss Peregrine was worried for her peculiars at all times. All who had left, all who were in her current possession, they still held a place in her heart. To know one of hers was no longer living, it broke her, but it was even worse to see the state of her child.

Ash nodded, but still held her blank stare at the ground. She was pale. Her eyes looked as though there were tears, but none could spill out. There weren't anymore to let out. Her hands still clutched Hugh's, as if afraid he would vanish from her too. He had his goggles over his eyes to cover them, and his bees were perched on his shoulders rather than swirling around his head.

Miss Peregrine sighed and perched on the front edge of her desk. "I'm sorry to be harsh to you. I understand this is hard. I just have to keep watch. I grieve for you and your mother."

She spoke to the two of them in a much gentler tone this time. Ashnar had not made eye contact with her the whole time. The rest of the peculiars were outside of the closed study door, huddled around the staircase. They heard the news, they didn't even attempt to pretend that they didn't. The younger girls clutched to Emma's skirts as she stood holding them, staring straight ahead with tears leaking down her porcelain face.

Enoch was in shambles in the basement. Talking to himself as he paced through the aisles of preserved body parts, he ranted about all he thought and felt. When he got to the end of the aisle, he turned and stamped his foot out of anger.

He huffed and turned to the wall, putting his head against it as he pounded it with his fist. Tears spilled from his brown eyes and he pulled at his hair in frustration. He took the jars he saw, some empty, some with fluids, and threw them to the ground. Watching as each one shattered.
Enoch then fell to his knees, not caring that the broken glass has sliced his hands and knees.

Elizabeth Apiston had left an impact on all of them, even if she hadn't seen them in years.