Mirrored in Her | ►

1. Inked red

My mom's face flashed across the screen. A photo of her, taken when my brother was born, was projected onto the fluorescent screen. I froze at the scene, and my breath got caught in my throat for a second.

It was a photo of my mom laying on the hospital bed while my dad stood beside her, cradling my brother as a newborn in his strong chocolate-brown arms, while I stood beside her, trying to get a peek at my future nemesis. Their eyes were swimming in tears as they posed for the camera. It was a picture taken on the day my brother was born.

A spike of fear clawed at my throat, and my body stiffened, cold with dread.

A red circle was drawn over my mother's face when the reporter appeared on the screen. Panic crept into my conscience ever so much, especially since the reporter wore her signature suit of victory.

"The body of the most wanted criminal, Maisie Seawright, was reportedly discovered near the Hopeshire beach yesterday," the reporter claimed on television, attracting the attention of all the customers and staff in the cafe.

"According to the experts, Maisie was murdered twenty-four hours ago. Her body has been severely wounded, and the cause of death is the abundant amount of blood loss. Her body was found floating on Hopeshire Beach, attracting the attention of the locals."

I struggled to compose, placing cold and clammy hands inside my apron. I staggered on my feet and clutched onto the nearest solid surface I could reach.

The television broadcasted images of her dead body. She was inked red from head to toe, and her eyes were cold and empty.

Reporters and cameramen huddled around her body as if it were a national treasure, taking the same scene from all angles possible, as if she would wake up at any second and they didn't want to miss the hot news.

Cheers erupted all around me. People started clinking their glasses and took it as a treat to celebrate this blessed moment. I gulped, trying not to cry in front of everyone present. I plastered a smile, grinning so hard that my cheeks hurt. These skunks might have felt proud of killing a person and destroying another family again.

But I know they don't care. They never do.

There was a fine line of history between humans and wielders that trod on their current relationship so hard. Humans still get so offended over the past that they won't spare a blink before slashing our throats.

"Hopeshire Beach," Clarisse repeated. "Isn't it the closest land to that abandoned island of Newhelm Isles, right?" I felt Clarisse turn on me as she glanced at the ongoing celebration with the same spirit.

Taking one last breath, as if I were about to plunge into the water, I faced her. I was a ticking bomb. I felt my heart being dragged down by something so heavy, as if it would detonate at any moment.

'My mom's gone.' The thought clouded my mind again. There was a brief moment when everything slowed around me like a merciless tableau, and the voice in the background died down. My head swirled and throbbed as I pushed myself to stay upright.

"She's...dead," I said, conjuring up a fake smile. My vision blurred with tears building up in my eyes, threatening to fall over at any moment.

"Yeah, she's. Clarisse gripped the counter hard with a malicious smile. "That monster had it coming, and I can't believe she is finally gone." It hit me like poison. Her face was distraught, and her pupils dilated as hatred surged into her eyes.

Like the purest form of hatred I've ever witnessed, it glistened in her eyes.

Anger bubbled in my veins, and I felt like everything in my body was screaming at me to shove my pocket knife at her throat. That would snuff out her smirk.

Clarissa has always had a way of getting on my nerves, ever since I came to Kertnigh. She seems to have held a grudge against me from the day we first met at a party, where she tried to coerce me, and I punched her square in the face in front of everyone, resulting in a big purple bruise.

I vividly remember how her pale cheeks blushed with embarrassment as she shot me one last glare with those icy blue daggers before walking off.

Ever since then, she has always tried to come up with something to get me caught by the council.

A dubious look crossed her face as she diverted her gaze toward me.

"Why are You crying, though?" She turned on me sternly. My heart hammered in my chest. "Don't tell me that you're one of those sympathizers out there who would even worship the ground on which these creatures walk." She continued as she stepped closer to me, trying to see through me, her eyes shining like one of the vicious snakes I had seen on the coast of Newhelm. "Even though I wouldn't be surprised if you were." Her voice dropped to a whisper, even though her eyes never left me.

I braced myself and said, "Dear, if I really were one, don't even dare think I would give you the privilege of staying alive." I smiled at her widely, hoping that she would just evaporate. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I said, "I doubt even your father's valor can save your tongue from getting slashed by the council once they hear of you slandering people of something so sinister without a single piece of evidence."

I was about to walk away from her. But then I turned at her again when I got a new point: "You know, such a behavior makes you seem so much like those monsters out there. So, don't tempt me." Her eyes turned to soccer balls as she shook her head.

My throat started feeling so tight with grief that if I pushed it any further, I doubted that it might crack. Clarisse unfurled her mouth again, about to say something that I didn't want to hear, but was cut off when someone bashed in through the back door.

Nevaeh stood at the door, looking like a half-winded terror, carrying two trash bags in her hands. Somebody outside might have preserved it, as she had just fought a raccoon. But she instantly collected herself when she saw Clarisse behind her.

"Alessia, I need your help with the trash," she said in a hurry. Her eyes shifted from me to Clarisse, who began to hover over her.

"What's wrong with it?" Clarisse asked cautiously. I side-eyed her and noticed how her stance tensed. She eyed Nevaeh warily, as if we were two children up to no good.

"There is a nest of mice in there." That was enough to shut Clarisse's mouth as I rushed behind Nevaeh. I locked ourselves outside while Nevaeh threw the trash bag and gloves away before enclosing me in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry for what happened, Alessia." Her voice was muffled against my shirt. I felt myself smile and relax a little in her embrace.

"We always knew it was bound to happen." I didn't know how long I'd been holding it in, and my voice cracked as I smiled like a fool.

Nevaeh stared at me earnestly, and I felt myself breaking. I hugged her again and cried my eyes out while she held me, afraid of letting me go.

Memories of my childhood flashed past my eyes as I remembered the way I used to wait at the stairs at my old house, thinking my mom would come back for me.

I used to lie to Everard, as he was too small to understand, and I didn't want to break his tiny heart. Dad used to seclude himself from us.

Even though I didn't know why Mom left us, I know why she was killed, and I know who they were targeting to kill.

Me.