A Witch's Game | ✓

12 | Memory Erased

Marilyn rocked Priscilla's body back and forth, trembling hands poured and splashed water on her face and she slapped her countenance lightly. She wiped the trickling tears off her flushed cheeks from the back of her hand and a sob broke out of her dry, sealed lips. "My dear, please wake up."

Priscilla stirred in her sleep, building hopes in her mother's gaze. She mumbled incoherent words and her eyes fluttered when she reached out for a hand of support which Marilyn quickly lent, pulling her forward to sit. "What occurred to cause you such injuries, my dear?"

Watch your tongue, young lady. You wouldn't want to have it chopped.

"One had black hair, the other had a broken tooth, I don't, I don't remember anything else." Priscilla clutched her head, the flash of memories a blurred picture obstinate to elucidate which prevented her from recollecting anything more than that.

"Goons kidnapped me and I-I don't remember anything." She tightened her grip around the roots of her hair and slouched her shoulder, whimpering. "My head hurts."

Marilyn was perturbed, inhibiting at Priscilla's agitate form. "That is fine, if you don't remember." Marilyn unclasped her hands from her scalp and pushed her down on the bed, covering her daughter with a duvet, and received a nod. "Just don't stress yourself and please take some rest."

Marilyn rolled her bottom lip in, biting as she attempted to grasp the situation. If the goons kidnapped her, then why didn't they take her money?

The cash was still peacefully resting in her bucket bag. And why some goons would specially drop her off at her house? They were supposed to leave her anywhere, but whatever it was, she just couldn't comprehend.

She sauntered towards her wardrobe and pulled a cabinet bundled with white papers and pen. She took the necessities and slumped on her bed whilst the pen in between her fingers moved in different directions, filing the blank paper. Subsequently, Marilyn left her house and to the person who could pass her letter to the royalties.

~~~

A veil of radiation fell upon the unoccupied bed of Priscilla. She basked in the warmth of it on the wooden floor, sweat dripping down her spine as it faced the window, and she slammed the piggy bank repeatedly before it shattered into bits.

The savings scattered on the ground, and she crawled to collect them and thrust in her bag, flitting out of her house whilst she waved at Marilyn and yelled apologies.

Priscilla tightened the brown scarf around her neck. She wanted to own the abandoned hut on the outskirts and purchase a few essentials. She ran past the black gates when a hand wrapping around her wrist and a Viola trotted to her. "What's the rush?" She pulled at the scarf, but Priscilla stopped her midway and scurried to her classroom.

"Why are you suddenly wearing it?" Priscilla swallowed the dust in her throat, glossing her lips, she scratched above one of her brows. She entered inside and sat on her usual seat, third from the second row. "A young lady's way of fashion, you could say." She brought her books out of her bag, a pen and a notebook. "Now let's study, please."

Viola rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh, slouching her shoulders, she sprinted to her seat. "Fine."

Priscilla's head fell against the desk and from the corner of her slightly opened eyes she perceived Viola yet again rolled her eyes. "Stop rolling your eyes. I'm afraid they'll loosen and pop out."