Twenty-four: 'Mother and daughter talk' it's called

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You can't avoid fate

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You can't avoid fate.



Melanie did not feel excited to stand in front of the tall black mansion. She tugged nervously at her grey blazer sleeves. It was time to confront her mother about everything.

Her legs were shaking as she made her way down the driveway. When she spotted her mom's Porsche parked, she knew she was home. Melanie was surprised by the plants' health. She noticed a woman holding a hose at the edge of the green land.

Did she hire a gardener?

Only Melanie knew her home in depression. Lively plants, she admitted, added a nice touch. She walked further up the driveway.

The gardener caring for some bright red roses looked up when Melanie walked up the marble steps. She tilted her head as she met her gaze. Melanie noted that the woman had bright red eyes, not human. She smiled, an oddly comforting gesture. Her black hair was braided and gently falling down her shoulders.

There was a sense of power emanating from the woman. As warm as a breeze, it made her feel relaxed. "Who are you?" she questioned the woman. A rose appeared in the lady's hands. "I'm home," she muttered. Her voice was gentle and soft. Melanie blinked and the rose appeared in her own hands.

She turned her head back, but the lady had disappeared. In her hands, the rose's pedals fell out. Each pedal lit up in tiny flames. The sparks were not hot or burning like she expected. Instead she felt comforted, like she could do anything.

The rose disappeared and Melanie turned towards the thick black door. With a shaking hand she knocked on it twice. There was a muffing sound, and dust came out of the wood. Melanie realised that she was probably the first in nearly two years to knock on the door.

Not long after, the wooden door opened creaking. A woman around forty years old stood in front of Melanie. She had her dark-brown hair tied up in a ponytail, making her face visible and more defined. Blue eyes that were wide and shocked.

She looked fine. Melanie noted. Nothing indicated that she was an alcoholic, abusive, or suicidal. It was her mother who stood in front of her. 

"Melanie," Her mother breathed out. Her eyes got glimmer as she watched Melanie standing like a statue. "You're really here." Her arm twisted for a moment in a weird way, like she wanted to touch her own daughter but thought better of it.

Melanie froze. It was so weird. Her mother didn't look like a mess. What happened while she was absent? She couldn't move. Her mother stepped to the side, indicating she could move in. Melanie's feet stayed frozen.

Her eyes looked at the woman she had called her mother up and down. Even her clothes appeared nice, she realised. "You can come in if you want." Her mother's voice didn't reach Melanie. Her green gaze rested on her mother's face in disbelief.

ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇꜱ (ᴀ.ᴄ)Where stories live. Discover now