Wandering Spirits

Chapter 32

The morning sun seeped in through the blinds and cast a golden light over Storm's, red hair as he leaned over the alarm clock that had just started ringing. With a heavy sigh, he reached out his arm to turn off the alarm, but the movement made him meet Freja's sleepy gaze. It was Monday, the first workday after a turbulent vacation.

"You know what you have to do, don't you?" he muttered, his voice thick with tiredness, but also with a care that bore the mark of the events of the past few days. Freja nodded, but the uncertainty in her eyes was as clear as the morning light. He could almost hear the gears creaking in her head as she tried to imagine every possible trouble.

"Call me right away, Freja," he said with an authoritative tone that was in stark contrast to his usual playful nature. Storm's eyes flickered from her face to the phone on the nightstand and back again.

A kiss landed on her cheek. The kiss was light and fleeting, but it carried the weight of a promise that he would be there for her.

"I'll talk to Lisa later," he said as he grabbed the door handle, "we'll find a way to deal with your mother." His voice carried a hint of a plan, but also the familiar undertone of a absent-minded professor trying to remember where he left his glasses.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the room fell back into silence. Freja was left alone with her thoughts, and in that moment as the door closed, a determination flared up within her. Her eyes narrowed, and a glimpse of the childish and stubborn light inside her was ignited. She had a plan, and even though no words were spoken, it was evident in the firm grip she took around the blanket; she was ready to take fate into her own hands.

Freja sat in silence after Storm had closed the door behind him. She ran her fingertips over the cold screen of her phone, as if she hoped that the touch would give her the strength she needed to carry out what she had decided on.

There was something almost comical about how Freja, who had managed to survive alone in the forest, was now struggling with her own determination. She took a deep breath, a conscious act to quiet the chaotic choir of thoughts singing worries in her head. With each inhale, she tried to fill her lungs with courage, and with each exhale, she tried to chase away the fear.

The clock on the nightstand ticked mercilessly on, like a constant reminder that time waited for no one. Freja's blonde hair lay disheveled around her face, a testament to the restless tossing and turning of the night. But now was not the time for another sleepless night or to be a burden on others. It was time to take action.

She got up from the bed, barefoot with the duvet still draped over her shoulders. For a moment, she stood there, like a warrior in her own right - a woman who had decided to face her greatest challenger. The screen on her phone lit up as she unlocked it.

The heart was pounding at a wild pace in her chest as she stared at the phone in her hand. Her mother's number was etched into her memory, pressed down by the weight of years of chaos and struggle. She took a deep breath as she typed in the familiar numbers.

The phone rang only once before the other end was picked up, and a voice, sharp as shattered glass, cut through the silence in the room. "Hello?" the sound of her mother's voice sent a shivering chill through Freja, cold as a winter night, but she couldn't allow herself to hesitate now.

"Be strong," she whispered to herself, a mantra to soothe the fear creeping up her spine. Storm's gentle blue eyes appeared in her thoughts, a silent call for courage. Lisa's warm laughter gave her a sense of family, something she longed for.

Her hand trembled for a moment when she heard her mother's stifled cry break through the static noise of the phone line. "Is that you, Freja?" She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the images of her childhood home that were pressing in - the worn-out carpet, the faded curtains, and the constant tension in the air.