Blind Beauty

Blind Beauty | 15

 

Her mother walked off to what could be a corner.

 

"Arlette, we need to talk," inquired her grandma calmy, and Arlette could feel her soft scent walk passed her. She heard her grandma as she sat down.

 

Arlette felt herself flutter calm a little despite how uncomfortable she felt. But one way or the other, she had to. There were things to be said and explained. Arlette was confused, baffled, terrified of what happened—or whatever was happening to her in general, and besides, she so desperately wanted to know. There was a tug, an ache in her chest that indicated her something, something yet to find out. Arlette sat on the bed nearby, where Ember and Cade were quietly sitting. They hadn't spoken a word since all of this chaos started, and Arlette was, somehow, grateful.

 

"I just want to know what's wrong with me," Arlette confessed, suddenly feeling embarrassed for her outburst earlier. The side effects were definitely starting to wear off.

 

"I know, dear, though it's...hard, since you're in such a young age."

 

Arlette was silent, calmly letting her grandmother to continue. Though she had to confess, she was nervous—about what, she didn't know, but she was. Her stomach formed knots and her head pounded, but, surprisingly, Arlette was seemingly calm. Maybe she was used to the feeling, or maybe not. She felt that whatever her grandmother was going to tell her was big...

 

Arlette could hear her grandma swallow. "Arlette, I don't want you to get upset after I finish,"

 

"I won't," Arlette promised.

 

It seemed as if her grandma was finding a way on how to start. Which was something very much rare. She was quiet for a moment before she started.

 

"We're an...unique family, Arlette," she said carefully. "Our ancestors were different."

 

Ancestors. Arlette didn't know a single thing about her ancestors. No one had bothered to talk about them all these years. Not even when her family came together to tell great stories of the past. They talked about those amazing, happy, sappy, and wistful legends. Where everything was laughs and rainbows and happily ever afters. Where love was poured out from the heart and happiness was a daily doctrine to the soul. Where the streets weren't infected with corrupted minds and dark souls. Where everything was perfect. But this was reality. And reality was a weight, a reminder, that no life was perfect and that everyone's mind was clouded with fears, sins, and everything else that kept anyone from ever being at peace.

 

And Arlette felt, and perhaps knew, that her ancestors' story was no happy story. She could be wrong. But then again, her heart was telling her otherwise.

 

"My grandmother was a witch who married a foreign man of an unknown...specie." Her grandmother spoke slowly as her words sank in Arlette's mind. A witch? "He had no identity when it came to where he was originally from. He was not a warlock, a healer, a mind-reader, or of royalty..." She trailed. "He grew up in a shelter, said someone had left him on the steps there." Arlette didn't know what this had to do with her, but regardless, she listened.