Velora's POV
"My necklace… where is it?" She lifts herself off the bed like a spring is behind her butts.
And with this look on her face, if her fear is pushed further, it would cross another limit that I can tell for sure she would resolve to do great harm to herself.
She gets to the spot I'm standing. "I… I lost it."
"No… I think I have it."
She squints her eyebrows. Her face is still pale, but at least that fear has melted down a little. Just a little. She goes on to take in deep breaths, releasing it slowly, and rubbing her stained fingers on her dress.
"Where is it?"
"I took it," I say, taking a step from her. "But it's important it remains with me considering how important it is, so it doesn't—"
"It's mine."
"Of course I know that." I force a smile to appear on my face. "It has always been, but—"
"I need to have it back."
"It 's better it stays with me. This place might not be safe for you to always wear it around."
She shakes her head. "I can't stand not being without it."
I step closer to her, placing my hands on her shoulders. "I understand, and I'll do just that."
I pull open the doors of the wardrobe. I'd hung it on an obvious spot, but one she couldn't have noticed on time if she'd checked herself.
"It has always been I'm here," I say.
She doesn't respond to that. She doesn't nod. She takes it off my hands, looking at it as though it's a pet she's been trying to keep from harm.
"It has always been safe with me," she tells me. "Always have been."
"True."
I smile. A smile can release the tension that exists between us. She doesn't smile back, but I know it's still effective even if I can't read her facial expression.
"This is all I have of them." She sits on the bed, brings the necklace close to her eyes, feeling it with her fingers and shutting her eyes.
"Remembering old memories?"
I want to be part of her moment.
She shakes her head. "There are no memories of them for me to remember except their death."
"No memories before their death. You don't mean that, do you?"
Her eyes open. "I mean every word of it. That's why I can never get rid of loneliness. It will always haunt me." She smiles, but the smile on her face is worse than a frown. "It's my fate. It always will be."
"No, but you were ten at that time, why…" My voice trails off when I realize I am going too far and her eyes scrutinize me.
The expression on her face is between smiling and frowning. I don't know where to place it, except I know I should have avoided it.
"You really do know so much about them. Hmmm. It's also a bad fate since you won't tell me a word about them."
"I can't speak much about that," I say.
"Then tell me the basic details. Just the basics if you're a merciful person to me."
I shake my head, turning my eyes off her.
"Please." She tugs at my left arm. "Be merciful to your adopted daughter."
Wait… she's calling herself my adopted daughter. It's really strange.
She widens her eyes to put up an expression I don't quite understand. "The smile on your face is broad and real." And she places her palms together. "Please put such a smile on my face by telling me something so little."
I don't want to smile. It wouldn't help me win against her. To her, it's like a game, and she's using these words in a way for me to feel flattered. I don't just feel that, it's what I'm observing. But it's cool, only that adopted part carries a whole lot of weight.
"Momma." Her eyes have become like a five year old. "Please momma."
Please don't pull these strings on me.
"I'm waiting…" Her voice is even more playful.
I can almost picture a five year old instance of her. It's lovely, and it's good to see her in this state, except that she's asking something of great weight.
"Okay, just a bit of info."
She nods, the smile on her face beaming brighter to the extent it can brighten up the room. She's waiting for me to start spilling details, but I didn't even know how to start. What if she goes back to hurting herself?
I would have to worry about getting her to calm down.
It's good I know how to filter details.
"You were fifteen," I start.
"Yeah, I know that. I'm eighteen now."
My palms rub against my knee. I think of details to filter, but realize every detail I could say has so much weight, and could lead to other details I'm not supposed to say.
But how come she can't remember?
"You don't want to tell me," she says, sighing. "Well it's fine."
The broad smile is still on her face. That's huge progress.
"You should bear with me," I say.
"I know. Don't bother about that. Perhaps it's good I don't know."
"Okay?"
"Yes."
She stays calm, and I wonder what thoughts come to her mind. There must be a reason for her to smile that way.
"You have something to tell me?" I ask.
"No."
"Could you tell me a possible reason you have no memories of your parents?"
Her hands rest on mine. She opens her mouth to speak, but covers up with a sigh. Then she rubs her palms together, and when they warm up, she presses them against her cheeks, inhaling air.
"Elara, you could tell me."
"I hate to remember it."
"Then take your time. Don't rush to speak."
I know it's hard for her to say, but I need to hear it. Something tough enough to blank out her memory is something important for me to hear. But it has to come slowly from her.
"Rogue wolves," she starts.
"Rogue wolves, what did they do?"
My ears want her to go on, but a cold chill is creeping up my spine. Imaginations are starting to wave themselves at me. I don't want to accept any of them.
Maybe I shouldn't let her walk down that memory lane.
"They caused harm to you?"
"Yes." Her eyes are heavy.
I'm holding her hands. Her fingers are shaky, and would have gone to her thighs by now. It surely feels like it happened yesterday, and the grief is tempting her to take the action again.
"How did you…"
"Liam."
"Liam?"
"Yes… he showed up. Somehow, he saved me."
Her eyes can no longer hold back the tears that've been building up, and it flows down her cheeks. My grip on her hand tightens.
"They did things to me. Things I don't wish to…"
"It's okay." I wrap my arms around her, patting her back gently.
She needs to relax her mind and let go of that hurting past. It's hard. But she needs to get a good measure of peace from being with me.
"I have what might help you," I tell her.
"And… what's that?"
"What if you could have another look at them?" I smile.
"On what?"
My lips go close to her ears. "Your parents' pictures."