The Secret World of Briar Rose(107)
Amelia held back her tears, yet the small pinch in her chest came from happiness as well. She’d loved the slow mornings tending the garden in her backyard, filling the beds of her fingernails with dirt, watching the sunflowers bloom every summer. She appreciated having only the company of crickets on quiet evenings and knowing that every day would be the same. But Malicine wanted more, and the demon stayed by her side longer than they should have to watch over her. Despite the good days, darkness always lingered at the back of her mind, a permanent residue of grief she couldn’t escape even in the comfort of bedsheets.
But she had survived each time, and she would survive again. She would not let fear hold Malicine back from exploring the rest of the world.
Before they said goodnight, Amelia felt the long arms of an embrace and a soft kiss pressed to her head. She thought about how some curses could become fortunes, and she had all the luck in the world to find her closest companion in this one.
? ? ?
OVER TIME AMELIA noticed fine lines etched in the corners of her eyes and mouth. She marveled at the delicate creases in the mirror. Small moles bloomed on her cheeks after decades spent in the sun. Strands of silver wove through her hair like stars. She moved like the turtles in her pond and thought about how her body was once a blank canvas, beautiful yet empty, before she lived and collected proof of it.
As she grew older, she would wake in the middle of the night, when the moon was out and her thoughts could not be quieted. She could feel the darkness returning to her mind, as it always did. But age gave practice to temper aching sadness and spiraling thoughts until they passed. Her cloak shielded her figure, her footsteps light on the forest path as she slipped out of the cottage while Malicine slept. The night air filled her lungs, and the crickets’ chirping followed her all the way to Gyldan.
She visited the republic occasionally to pick up bread from the marketplace and visit her friends. The previous day’s rain had slickened the cobblestoned roads and made lampposts reflect a brighter sheen. Clear rivers ran through canals and mirrored the moon in ripples. The night was completely still until a straggler caught the corner of her wrinkled eyes.
The lone figure stood at the end of a bridge, peering into the water. Amelia knew what this person would do, for she remembered the familiar desire she once had at eighteen.
She hurried toward the bridge and called out to the stranger. The woman turned around before Amelia tackled her off the ledge and they fell onto the pavement. Her weary bones ached, yet desperation propelled her forward, grabbing hold of the stranger to make sure she would not jump again. Refugees often fled from other kingdoms to Gyldan, and the council had established temporary shelters for them to stay. Sometimes it wasn’t enough. Not when fighting to survive for so long could wear someone down to the bottom of a river.
Amelia brushed black hair away from the stranger’s forehead, and the sight of the woman took her aback. Under the moonlight, the woman’s features turned clearer: dark eyes, wide nose, a face that Amelia had seen long ago. A rush of nostalgia made her heart ache. She nearly embraced this person, but knew it would only be a stranger’s body, one with different angles and shapes that were not the exact match as her dreams.
Weariness dragged the timbre of the woman’s voice. “You should have let me go.”
Amelia clasped the stranger’s hand and gazed at her fiercely. The woman’s eyes were dull, like a cloud passed over them, still in the fog of hunger. “No. I need you here.”
The woman laughed weakly. “Nobody needs me.”
“That’s not true,” Amelia said, seeing a distant future in the stranger’s eyes. “I know you want to run away from the pain. I’ve run away too. But there will be love on the other side. One day you will see. We cannot survive without each other.”
Perhaps the woman would think Amelia was strange. She would never recognize Amelia in the night. It was too dark, and the woman’s vision had become so weak that Amelia had to lead her to shelter. But there were no signs of protest, as if Amelia had said things so surely, they almost seemed like they’d become reality.
She clasped the woman’s hands in hers, gripping them until they no longer felt like strangers. They never exchanged names, and they never saw each other again. Yet before Amelia said goodbye, she reached for the pendant nestled against her collarbone and wrapped the chain around the woman’s neck. The necklace fit over the woman’s collar with a natural clasp, as if finding its home.
Afterward, Amelia limped to her woodland cottage with sagging skin and aching bones. The candle in her windowsill had pooled to hardened wax. Her body sank into bed with a heavy heart.
She did not know what tomorrow would bring. There were no promises of happiness or meaning to come. The only thing she knew with certainty was that the morning would cast the sunlight sideways through her windows, the bees would pollinate the wildflowers in her garden, and the seasons would change long after her bones turned to soil.
So for now, Amelia slept.
And when she woke up, the world did not end.
Acknowledgments
One of the takeaways from this story is that we cannot survive without each other, and that has certainly been the case for this book, which would not have seen the light of day (or at least not in good form) if it weren’t for these people:
Marielle Thompson, who was the first person to ever read my manuscript and who not only believed in it, but also resonated with the themes of depression and escapism. Thank you for being my writing mentor and pushing the story to be so much better. My publishing journey wouldn’t have started without you. Corin also wouldn’t have stolen from that poor old lady in Chapter 1 if you hadn’t pushed for more agency, so thanks for contributing to elder abuse!