Unbidden Awakening

The one where she relives her past.

I float in a void of nothingness, my consciousness, a thing of the past as I'm sucked into a memory.

"Callie" someone screams, slamming my bedroom door open.

"Happy birthday day to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, happy birthday, Happy birthday to you." I blink rapidly clearing the fog of sleep from my eyes, half hoping I'm still dreaming. I observe my mum in her pyjamas and fuzzy slippers singing the happy birthday song in a very off-key tone, as usual.

"Mom!" I scream. I'd specially asked her not to do this, but in true mom style, I guess she had to make sure I was thoroughly embarrassed.

"Happy birthday, sweetie," she laughs instead, her hand reaching out to ruffle my hair. I duck and hide under my pillow.

"Canon ball," Nicole, my younger sister, screams running into my room. I remove my head from under my pillow just in time to see her barrel into me.

"Umpfh," I grunt and catch her. She smiles up at me cheekily.

"Daddy messed up the cake, but he's bringing up a cupcake for you." She mock whispers, "It's carrot, " she says disgustedly.

"I think..." My mum starts to say coming to sit beside me." Carrot is a delicious flavour. "

I steal a glance at Nicole, but she's already staring back at me with a disgusted face. She sticks out her tongue and shakes her head. I laugh, in the assured and carefree manner of someone who knows with every fibre of her being that she is loved.

My Dad enters my room with a single cupcake with white frosting topped with a single blue candle. My dad walks towards the bed and stares at me indulgently.

My dad, with the cupcake nestled carefully in his palm, stretches out his hand. I take in the smile lines on his face and the profound love evident in his eyes, softly, to avoid guttering the flame of the solitary candle on the frosted cupcake he says,

"Blow out the candle, my little fairy"

so I do.

☆★★☆☆★★☆☆★★☆☆★★☆
The memory shifts.

I am 8 years old this time. Huddling outside my Daddy's office. Daddy and Mummy are arguing softly, but I can hear and see them through the crack of the door.

"What does that even mean, Evelyn?"

I know my Daddy is angry because he never calls mummy by her name. My mummy's face is all wet and blotchy. She sniffs, and I realise with a jolt that she's crying.

My mummy never cries, even when she cut her hand with the big knife in the kitchen yesterday and there was blood everywhere she just washed her hands and cleaned the floor the blood was all gone, and her hand was clean.

" I assumed it was only a bite that could trigger it,"

"She's 8 now, Max. Even the slightest scratch can trigger it."

My Dad runs his hands through his brown hair. His hair isn't white like mine. It's brown, like the colour of the bitter coffee he loves to drink every morning.

"She doesn't have the usual symptoms, no strong sense of smell or strength."

It takes a second to realise that mummy is talking about me. My hands wrap around my body, and guilt fills me up. I smell things a lot, but I don't tell mummy because it's weird.

My friend Gaby told me so when the teacher lied to Ian's parents and I told her that I could smell that our teacher was lying. I can still smell well. My Dad smells like rust and burnt wood, which tells me he's worried and a little angry, and my mum smells like only rust, so she's worried.