WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

prologue

prologue:

before it all ended

The mess of limbs on the floor caught me off guard. We had a carpet. I was sure. But I could not see it in the mess of confetti and balloons. All the lights were on, even the jazzy disco one. All the paintings – my paintings – had banners slung across them. Was it someone's birthday?

The month was May? Check. I'm fifteen, my birthday is in about seven months? Check. Mum is at home, meaning off duty until July? Check. How many days after Rosie's birthday? Twenty-five. How many day's till mom's? Four months and three days.

Then why do we have a full-blown party in our house?

I looked at them, laughing. They hadn't noticed me yet. They were sprawled on the floor, entangled in a game of Twister. Mum looked so young. She was in her early forties. One wouldn't be able to tell though, her pink lips that kissed me goodnight were still as soft as the touch of velvet. Her eyes still bore passions that ran deeper than the Marina Bay trench: the deepest pit on Earth. Her smile made flowers bloom. Her heart was still young and wild.

No one would say this is the woman that trained young airmen and airwomen to protect their land and ride the British Aerospace Hawk T1, like she did until a few years ago when a particularly bad accident blew her off the radar. It broke her spine (nearly) but not her spirit.

And my sister was her spitting image. Even at just the age of ten, the beauty her features bore and the grace that she carried in every step. She was bold and courageous, loved something adrenaline pumping. 'The next airwoman' mum would laugh.

"Oh, you're back," Mum hastily got up, sweeping some confetti with her. Glad we still had the carpet; I loved the emerald. "I got a phone call. Sir says you'll make a fine soldier. Train hard, my girl." This was her love. She filled our hearts with the love of both a mother and a father, all on her own. Her love was tough, but soft. She was the hard-protective shield around us as well as the quilts to warm us. Our father had passed away fighting on the borders; I was young at the time, I don't remember much.

"Aye aye, captain." I chuckle. She sighs.

"You do know mummy was in the Air force, right?" Rosemary, my little sister, pipes up.

I grab her and spin her around. She laughs. Her laugh is contagious. Soon, we're all laughing and spinning and messing around. Times like this are rare, and therefore hold a special space in my heart.

"Who wants the radio?" Mum asks. She didn't need to ask. Rosie shrieks and turns it on.

The air is light. I feel light. Weightless. Like a feather. I'm floating. We're all floating. The air is shimmering. It's like magic. Like art. My palms start itching to mix all possible colors just to get the perfect shade of yellow to convey just how joyful this moment is. Even then it wouldn't do it any justice.

Mum knocks on my head, knocking me back to the ground. "Painting up here?"

I sheepishly nod.

"You can paint it later, by the way," she says, a sly smile on her lips. "I have something for you."

My eyes bulge, expanding like a puffer fish. Puffer fishes fill themselves up with water to avoid being the prey. Mine filled themselves with excitement. The radio's volume is turned up.

"There's blood on your lies,

Disguise open wide