Lost and Found

Lucky Ducky

Karen stayed over until late in the evening. We watched a couple different rom-coms and even job searched for a while, but there was little I was able to do without documentation. Karen didn't know that though, so I pretended to be interested in the various job listings she showed me. It was sweet of her, but they most likely did background checks.

The Blackbourne group was still on my mind, distracting me, and there were several times when Karen had to repeat what she had said because I had been lost in thought. I didn’t tell her about what happened with them and their suspicious offer to give me a job, nor did I inform her that I wouldn’t be able to work any of the jobs she pulled up.

Instead, I tried to focus on Karen and my time with her. I was lucky to have her in my life.

Once she left with a promise from me to message her soon to hang out, I collapsed on the bed and stared numbly at my ceiling. Exhaustion hit me, both physical and mental, and I fell asleep with my troubled thoughts.

At some point in the evening, I woke up from a new nightmare. Though this one didn’t have a gray violin chasing me. No, this wasn’t just any nightmare.

It was a memory. A memory of glazed eyes, cinching hands, and a ruthless tongue. . .

“You think I actually want you here? That I had any choice but to take you in?”

Her words weighed down my heart, each one like a brick crushing me until I couldn't breathe.

How could she say that?

“Mom,” I started, but she slapped me before I could say anything else. My mouth gaped in shock and pain, and my hand tenderly cupped my stinging skin.

“Don't call me that.” Her glazed eyes stared at me in an alarming way. The look was manic, confused, furious. . . dangerous. “We both know I'm not your mom.”

With gritted teeth, she gripped my hair, tugging me after her as I attempted to wrench her hands off me. I screamed, kicking and scratching, as she dragged me into her room.

When she released me, I collapsed to the floor and cradled my scalp.

My mom had always had a bit of a temper, but this time felt different. There was a dangerous current charging the air, and I feared that one wrong move, and I'd be electrocuted.

My mom grabbed the syringe off her nightstand, and terror froze my blood to ice.

I scrambled backward, knocking over the pile of plates and utensils. Something sharp sliced my palm, and I winced as I glanced at the steak knife resting innocently by my side like it hadn't just cut me.

“No one will know,” my mom whispered, holding the syringe carefully in her hand. Turning to me, she frowned. “There's no record of you.”

My trembling fist inched toward the knife. “I don't know what you're saying. Why don't we wait until Dad gets home and we can talk—”

Shadows shifted above my head as I woke with panted breaths. The usual distant gunshots sounded far off in the distance, and I focused on the blaring of car horns and cursed shouts to ground me to the here and now.

Eyes still swimming with tears, I curled into a ball and eyed my empty apartment.

It’s okay, Sang. She’s not here.

Slowly fumbling for the light beside the bed, I shielded my eyes from the brightness. But automatically, I felt better, safer, having the lights chase away the shadows and nightmares. Here in the light, nothing could touch me. Not even my own demons.