Mistress // Jensoo

point of no return

// TW //

this is a flashback only chapter 

***

I woke up with a start, hearing the sound of the alarm I set. It was twelve in the morning of January 16th, my birthday. It was my seventeenth year today. I flicked on the light by the bed, illuminating my small room. I looked past the years of my life.

So many memories, all of them gray and sharp. I saw the hundreds of places I've been to, hundreds of people I've met, the hundreds of seconds I lived, but none were filled with love. I never wanted these memories, never wanted this, but I can never fall out of affection with life. I didn't need to see where I came from, only to see where I was going. But I was going nowhere. Still, I needed to keep moving forward.

For the past years I was beaten, I was thrown into fire, but still I stood on my own two feet, though it earned me scars that would forever be etched into the memory of my past. Torment and grief pumped through my veins, serving them to every cell and organ inside of me, making me immune--no, making me use to it. I memorized how they would stab me, the precision of their movements, the time of their attack, I knew all of it. I memorized how they sounded like, the tone of their voices when they would whisper suffering in my ears. I memorized how they looked like, and they led to the only image reality produced into existence. 

My mother.

I took the candles on the bedside table, casting a fire with the lighter I stole from the 14 ones that mama has. Three candles for three wishes.

I only needed one. I held the candles at a reasonable distance from my face and closed my eyes. My words would eventually vanish into nothingness, my efforts in vain, but I made and wasted my wish anyway.

"I wish Mama would love me again."

Yet I knew it was a wish that could never be granted.

Was I difficult to love? 

Were my eyes not enough of a mirror of love? 

Were my hands not enough to cradle love? 

Were my lips not enough to taste love? Were my ears not enough to hear the whispers of love?

Perhaps not.

Maybe not ever.

.

.

Seven hours later I found myself wearing my school uniform. I took my bag and went downstairs, only to be welcomed by the sight of my mother carrying a cake. A birthday cake. I stood unmoving on the last step, confused. Mama turned and smiled to me, a smile I've never been able to receive for years now. But it was as beautiful as I remembered it, it was as loving as I have felt before.

"Happy birthday, Jennie."

A wave of nostalgia hit me as my past birthdays when Papa was alive suddenly flashed before me. How I missed them both.

"Mama..." Words could not mount to what I was feeling. I wanted to dive into this happiness, into this elation, but I stared down at my hands and said nothing.

Maybe my wish was granted?

But what made Mama do this now? I celebrated my birthdays alone since Papa's death. But even if this was a lie, a dream, an illusion, I wanted to swim into it. Even if this would only be once, I needed to feel the love I was craving for.

"I baked this cake by myself, Jen. Come, blow your candles." Mama put the cake down on the table near the stairs and pulled me by the hand.

Oh, it has been a long time. A long time since I have felt Mama's touch with having to feel pain. Without the whip of the belt. Without the sound of a slap. This warmth I have been deprived of for a long time has finally been offered to me.