Something else hit her. A presence of some sort, as if she were being watched. The emptiness inside her felt almost plugged. Suddenly, she didn't feel so sad. So broken. Scarlett glanced around. She saw no one else in the opening of trees where she waited. If she believed in ghosts, she might have thought her mother had visited her. But she didn't. She didn't know what to believe anymore.
Ashleigh thought their mother had escaped her worldly pain and now spent her days on streets of gold. Scarlett wanted to believe her mother had finally found her paradise. No matter where her mother resided now, Scarlett had to believe she wasn't in pain. Wherever where she was, she was gone. Scarlett couldn't ask her for advice, couldn't laugh with her until they cried. Her mom wouldn't be there to watch her walk down the aisle. She couldn't hold Scarlett's future children. It was unfair and stupid, and, most of all, it just plain sucked.
As the pain crept back in, the pressure in her chest flared. Before she burst into tears as she had every day since her mother died, a calmness rushed through her. Nothingness replaced the knife that pierced her heart.
Something was wrong. The grief Scarlett should feel had vanished.
She was numb.
Chapter Two
Scarlett was five when everything changed. She and Ashleigh were playing with dolls in Scarlett's room when they heard their mom scream. Ashleigh hid under the bed. Scarlett, the brave soul she was, rushed to the living room.
Her mom shouted at someone to leave her alone. She gripped her ears, eyes clamped shut. No one else was there. Fear coursed through Scarlett. Would her mom be okay? What if she wasn’t? The panic swam through Scarlett’s veins like a raft down furious rapids, destined to crash. Her mind repressed the next few hours, gone from her memory like a ship lost at sea. Eventually, Scarlett’s mom calmed down and told the girls not to worry. It was just a freak incident. Things were fine.
But the voices kept coming, and Scarlett would often hear her mom talking to someone who wasn't there. Her once vibrant and happy mom turned lethargic and apathetic. That was when Scarlett’s love for the piano began. She’d sit at its bench for hours at a time, pressing down the keys randomly as she made up her own songs. It didn’t matter how it sounded as long as it blocked out the noise of her mother talking to nothing and kept Scarlett from worrying about what would happen if the voices didn’t stop.
When Scarlett's grandma came to visit, she noticed the change in her daughter, and, after a weekend of begging, Scarlett's mom agreed to see a doctor.
Schizophrenia—the doctor said—which, with medication, could be managed. And, at first, things got better. Until Scarlett's mom said the pills made her feel funny and she didn't need them.
The cycle continued over and over—on the pills, off the pills—until Scarlett accepted her life for what it was.
Scarlett and Ashleigh walked home silently. The cemetery was about a mile from their house—both convenient and creepy. Rain drizzled as they turned into their neighborhood, coating everything with a fine layer of dampness. Scarlett might have been worried about its effect on her hair if she cared about things like that anymore.
Right after their mom had died, the sisters hugged each other and cried. Scarlett had never felt as close to Ashleigh as she had in that moment. Maybe it would be their chance to be loving sisters, Scarlett had thought. The kind who believed each other when no one else did. She wanted a sister who had her back. Any hopes Scarlett harbored had disappeared after the funeral. Since then, Ashleigh barely spoke to her. They ate their meals together with nothing more than "pass the salt" from Ashleigh's lips. Not even a "please."
"What did I do?" Scarlett blurted as they stepped onto their porch, its old wood creaking beneath their feet.
"Huh?" Ashleigh asked, taking her hand off the doorknob.
"You barely even look at me anymore."
Ashleigh rolled down the sleeves of her yellow cardigan. "It's just hard, okay?"
"What's hard?" Scarlett stood with her arms dangling at her sides.
"Losing mom."
"It's hard for me, too, Ash."
"I'm sure it is." Ashleigh rolled her eyes as obviously as possible.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You always complained about how hard your life was. I'm surprised you're not happy she's dead."
The words pierced her heart. Scarlett knew her attitude had sucked. Didn't Ashleigh know how horrible Scarlett felt? She wasn't a genie, though. She couldn't take it all back. And life with her mom was hard—the paranoia, the compulsion, the apathy.
Of course, Ashleigh would judge Scarlett. Flawless Ashleigh who never broke curfew. Who never got a bad grade. Who always wore a smile on her face no matter what kind of day their mom was having. She didn’t worry that she’d inherited their mom’s illness.
Ashleigh was good without trying—an angel sent from the heavens. Scarlett might have been a devil, but at least she was one who desperately tried to grow wings. She just sucked at it.
"I know I messed up a lot. I'm trying to be better," Scarlett said.
"It's too late, Scarlett. Mom died."
Scarlett clenched her teeth. The breath froze in her lungs. Ashleigh’s words cut through flesh and dug into Scarlett’s soul, a million needles twisted into her heart. She screwed up sometimes. Maybe it was her fault. It didn't matter anymore, though. Their mom was gone. Nothing could bring her back.
Without another word, Scarlett stomped past Ashleigh and went straight to her mother's room, slamming the door behind her. The sweet smell of her mother's perfume still lingered. Scarlett crawled into bed and under the covers like she did as a child. It had always been her safe place—from the boogie man to a bad day at school, the one place she could go and everything would feel okay again. It wasn't the same without her mom there, but it still comforted her. She barely slept at night anymore. When she dozed off, nightmares tormented her until she woke screaming. Were they the first step in losing her mind? First, nightmares. Next, voices? She wondered what her mom’s first symptom was. Lack of sleep drained Scarlett, and, right then, all she wanted to do was fall asleep and forget her life.
The sun warmed Scarlett's face, seeping into her fair skin as her back pressed into the cold ground below. She peered into the perfectly blue sky and searched for shapes in the cumulous clouds. Something was different. How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in her mother's bed.
She must have been dreaming.
Her mind relaxed as she waited in the middle of an open meadow. Calmness had become a foreign feeling to Scarlett. She welcomed the serenity it held. A gentle breeze blew her dark locks. This wasn't real. It couldn’t be. She'd never been to this meadow before. But it didn't feel fake either. It was unlike any dream she'd ever had.
"Hello," a voice said behind her. It didn't startle her. It was as if she'd expected it to come. With a tone warm like honey, she relaxed even more.
Scarlett pushed her body to a sitting position and turned to see a young man nearing. He approached her with an extended hand. She'd read somewhere that everyone in their dreams was someone they’d seen before, but she was certain if she'd seen this face, she'd have remembered. His eyes were aqua, and Scarlett felt lost in them as if they were as vast as the Caribbean Sea. She reached instinctively for his hand, which burned hotter than her own.
"You're beautiful," he said.
He was beautiful, not her. The two sides of his face aligned in perfect symmetry, with ears pointed ever-so-slightly, Scarlett almost didn't notice. His skin was smooth as silk, but his aura burned hot. Scarlett's awe kept her silent. Who was he?
He locked his fingers with hers. His piercing eyes stirred her stomach.
"Who are you?" Scarlett asked.
His mouth curved into a half smile. "Cade," he said, "but more importantly, who are you?"
"Scarlett."
He leaned into her and inhaled the scent of her neck.
Scarlett's eyes closed as her nerves prickled. She wanted to press her body into his. She needed to. Scarlett had never felt such desire before. Nearly unnatural desire.