"I love you. With all my heart. To the end of the ocean and back."
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FEATURED BY @StoriesUndiscovered
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Missy is a promising student of art, drawing wherever she goes. She is just as talented as quiet and she seems too indifferent to care...
A final scream of the violin pierced our souls with a sword. Evie held her magic wand above her head. As if a statue had been taken. She slowly opened her eyes.
What was that, I asked her.
Sarasate:Zigeunerweisen, Op. 20, she told me.
Evie sighed and sat next to me on the bed, breathing hard, talking fast and avoiding my gaze.
I used to play a very simplified version of it, to my mom, she told me. It was her favourite piece. She played it on the piano and I learnt the version she wrote for me. We played it every day. For only a couple of minutes after lunch. When she died, I tried my hardest to learn the original. I haven't played it in a while, she told me.
I held her hand. Her hands were warm this time. Shaking. She held my hand tightly, with violin in the other, looking at the points of her shoes.
The anniversary of her death is coming up, I said.
Evie scoffed.
You say it as if I only remember my mom when dates remind me of her, she said in accusation.
She sighed. Knowing I thought no such thing. She squeezed my hand and looked at me with those glassy eyes before quickly looking away.
I'm sorry, she said.
Silence.
The answer remains the same, I told her.
She knew to what questions it was an answer. Evie knew because I did... sometimes neither of us knew where the other began or ended.
Even after all these years, she asked me in doubt.
Yes.
You said it when we were children, she told me as if she didn't know we were children of a soul old and worrisome.
I meant it.
Evie smiled. In a way that said that she does not believe me. In a way that said she appreciates my words... but they would be in vain.
Even if the whole world knew, even if everyone was to judge you and hate you...
You wouldn't, Missy.
I nodded.
I wouldn't.
Evie let go of my hand and stood up. She put down the violin carefully in the velvet case that still had the 'fur is murder' stickereven though it was pale and peeling.
Her hair covered my view of her face.
It still hurts, she confessed.
Some wounds can't be sealed by time, I thought.
She knew that. We both did. It didn't give her comfort. I could see it in her eyes. But we were both broken. And telling her anything else... would be cruel. I didn't know how to fix her. I didn't know how to do that myself.
Evie.
Yes?
If you could forget. If you could take away the pain of losing your mom... would you do it?
No, she told me.
Evie... What you did was not for yourself. It was for your mother. You did what you did with the consequences. You knew it would cause you guilt and pain. You did this for your mom. Embrace the guilt and pain as your own, love. It's a reminder of your love for your mom. And what you did for her. Not to her.
Evie stood there for a long time. Motionless. Thinking and contemplating. She had a choice. Like we all do. Let go. Or hold on. I could not stop her. I wouldn't either. Because Evie was strong. With a dark soul like myself. But she carried it proudly. I admired her.
She turned to me. Her hair was tucked behind her ear and a sad yet soft smile on her lips.
Will you come with me to visit her grave she asked me.
I smiled. It was the only answer she needed.
Missy?
Yes?
Evie sat back next to me. I felt the mattress dip and her warmth next to me along with the feeling of her and her scent.
Do you ever wish you had met a different version of me? A version who did not kill her mother? A version which was very much the same... but guiltless?
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