Aurora's Realm
"Mom, Dad!!!....Rory, who are those people holding mom and dad??...why are their faces like that??"
"Somebody help, please anyone. I'm.....begging"
I woke up trembling as I was once again faced with another nightmare episode of my trauma. A trauma I could never escape. It haunted me in my sleep and tore at me even when I was awake. I was cursed...at least I think that's what it is.
I am Aurora Sinclair (or Rory as my brother and grandpa like to call me), heir to a name that echoes through boardrooms and headlines. Richard and Isabella Sinclair were my parents; Edward Sinclair, my grandfather; and Alexander, my twin brother, the one now holding the reins of our family empire. To the world, we were untouchable. But behind the prestige lies the truth: my parents' deaths years ago shattered me—and became the root of the torment I still carry.
I saw them—the ones who killed my parents. Their faces burned into me, precise and permanent. When they left, I collapsed into a ragged whimper, watching my mother and father bleeding through the cracked skulls.I can still hear Xander screaming, his voice echoing in my head. I wanted to cry, but nothing came out. Only a faint, stifled sob slipped through. We were both 9 at that time. I'm 23 now, yet the memories of that night remain carved into my mind. After I was hospitalized, the doctors did everything they could, but in the end, they said I was too far gone. I had locked myself away inside my own head, the events replaying over and over like a broken record. That was when they diagnosed me with MSS—Mute Shock Syndrome. I lost my voice that night… and I've never truly gotten it back.
Grandpa Edward was the ember that kept my nights from going all black. After the funeral, Xander and I lived with him; two years later Xander left, but I stayed. I found him by accident one quiet afternoon, alone in a secret room, colors and canvases stacked around him. Seeing him move the brush was like seeing a map of feeling; in that moment I realized painting lived in me too. It became my voice — a slow, bright way to say what I could not.
Today I woke the way I always have since that night—haunted. The screams still clawed at my throat, but no sound ever came out. Silence had become my shadow.
I brushed my teeth, bathed, and slipped into clean clothes, covering myself in the familiar sweetness of vanilla. The scent clung to me like a fragile comfort, maybe because it reminded me of ice cream, of simpler days I could never return to.
When I left my room in search of food, Grandpa's voice broke the stillness.
"Oh, my dear, you're awake," he said gently, his eyes filled with the sorrow he never spoke aloud.
I nodded, forcing a greeting he would never hear from my lips. My silence said it all.
"My dear, I asked Edna to prepare your favorite for you. I know how much you love scrambled eggs and bacon… and of course, your vanilla ice cream," Grandpa said softly. Edna was more than just our maid. She cooked our meals, kept the house in order, and never once complained—but to me, she was like a second mother. She understood me in ways words never could. Every tilt of my head, every flicker of my eyes, every silence I offered—she knew what I meant. With Edna, I never needed a voice.
I looked up at him, my heart flickering with excitement and gratitude. His face lit up, his sorrow easing for a fleeting moment as he caught the rare curve of my smile. For someone so used to my silence, my stillness, that small smile meant everything.
I wasn't accustomed to showing expression—it had become second nature to remain blank, unreadable. But in that moment, Grandpa's joy reached me, and I let it show.
"You know we're preparing for Xander's closing deal ceremony," Grandpa said, his tone touched with both pride and something unspoken. "Two years… he hasn't set foot home in two years. That boy buries himself in work, always chasing, always running." He sighed, and the sound lingered in the air like a shadow. "Maybe that's his way of escaping… though I sometimes wonder what exactly he's trying to escape from."
His gaze shifted back to me, softer now. "You, my dear, have to get ready for tonight. I know you don't like these events, but we need to be there—for your brother."
I exhaled slowly, the thought of Xander stirring unease in my chest, but I nodded. Some things were better left unspoken. I opened my mouth, but nothing came. The truth hit me all over again—I couldn't speak. I had forgotten for a second, only to remember the silence I was bound to. I was mute.
I finished tending the little garden Grandpa had made just for me. My hands were caked with soil, streaks of dirt smudged across my cheeks, but I didn't care. I felt fulfilled. The flowers were finally beginning to bud, delicate hints of color promising beauty yet to come.
I smiled at the sight, my heart swelling with quiet pride, when Edna, our maid, appeared to remind me of the occasion tonight. The reminder made me sigh, and I dragged my feet back to my bedroom.
Laid out across my bed was the dress Grandpa had prepared—a gown that looked like it had been pulled straight from a high-fashion runway. It was a sleek, body-hugging piece of champagne silk, its surface catching the light like liquid gold. The neckline was an elegant off-shoulder cut, drawing graceful lines across my collarbone, while a daring slit ran up the leg, subtle yet commanding. Crystal embellishments traced the bodice, sparkling with every angle, and the tailored waist cinched me into perfection. It wasn't just a dress—it was power stitched in fabric, modern royalty woven into every seam.
I hesitated before slipping into the gown, fingers trembling against the smooth silk. The fabric hugged my frame like it had been tailored only for me. When I finally stood before the mirror, I almost didn't recognize the girl staring back.
The champagne silk flowed effortlessly over my curves, the crystal embellishments scattering the light into a constellation across my body. The off-shoulder cut revealed the gentle slope of my collarbones, while the slit whispered boldness I wasn't sure I possessed. For a moment, I looked… powerful. Almost untouchable.
But as I studied my reflection, doubt crept in. My eyes carried shadows no dress could conceal, my lips curved only halfway toward a smile. The gown was flawless, yes—but beneath its shimmer stood a girl still cracked from the inside.
I traced a hand over the fabric, trying to convince myself. Grandpa believed I deserved to shine, even if I wasn't sure I did.