Chapter 96: Mother's Undying Love

I don’t want to know. I don’t want her to know. I don’t want her view of me to change. I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to disappoint her. I don’t want to fail her like I did all of those years ago.

I forced a smile on my face, even though it was nowhere near as perfect and beautiful as Julian’s. “No, Mom. I don’t know where you got an idea like that, but he just shows me extra attention because…” I sighed as I slipped in some of the ugly truth. “The east-side is far different from the west-side. I’m used to ruffians, cutthroats, sleeping in dirty alleys, and robbing. But this? Fuck, everything is so clean, so safe, so luxurious that some days I feel like I’m losing the rest of my mind. This doesn’t feel like home. And I don’t think it ever will be.”

My mom winced and looked away from me. I realized that the things I had just said must’ve been far worse than what she was expecting to hear, especially after the promise I made that I’d stay by her side forever.

“Mom, I–”

“No, it’s fine, love. It’s fine. Deep down, I already knew all of this.”

My brows raised with surprise. “Wait, what? You did? Then why…?”

Mom looked at me with a lovely but broken smile. “Because you’re my baby girl, Suki. I know you better than anybody else in the whole wide world.”

This time it was my turn to recoil, as if I had just been pierced through the heart by words that felt as sharp as a knife. “Mom…”

Mom’s broken smile turned comforting and sweet as she came closer and embraced me in a hug just as tight as Julian’s, and that’s saying a lot for a woman who was the same height as me, with a frail body from old age. “If Julian is making your life here easier, then I am beyond grateful to him. I trust him completely to take care of you.”

My hands curled up into tight fists from where they hung at my sides.

*No, don’t say that… anything but that…*

When my mother leaned away from me, she stroked my cheek with the look in her eyes she’d give me when I used to wake up crying from bad dreams while Dad was still fighting in the military. The look of unconditional love and the warmth in her smile could rival a campfire on a cold night. “It’s ok, honey. I love you.”

My head hung to hide the water that I could feel working up in the corners of my eyes. I haven’t cried since Dad died. At least not a genuine cry. And yet my mother was always the one who could ring me like a soaked rag as easily as if she were eating her favorite cake. Mom chuckled as she placed both of her hands on my cheeks. “Oh? Is this young woman full of fire and thorns still my little girl, after all, hm?”

I turned my head away from her grouchily. “Stop that…!”

My mother’s endearing chuckle held humor as she kissed my forehead in the same place that Julian had kissed. Even though it was in the same place, I could feel a huge difference between the kisses. My mom’s was full of undying love. I thought Julian’s was out of love too, but now… I’m not so sure. It felt nothing like this.

“Well,” she patted my shoulder. “Get some sleep, honey. There’s some medicine and crackers in the kitchen in case you get nauseous again. Come get me if you start feeling worse, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Mom.” I still used my grouchy tone and winced when she poked my nose.

“Sass, woman, sass! Now then, sweet dreams.” She gave me one last smile before heading down the hallway that led to her and Gabriel’s bedroom.

Once I was alone, I released a long sigh while placing my hand on my forehead, a childish blush coated my cheeks. It was embarrassing, but I knew I could never live without her. The thoughts of my shameful memories crossed my mind; how I left her side when her depression was a black hole and I was getting sucked inside it.

Dad’s death made me believe that there’s no such thing as heroes. But Mom made me want to that, that I was wrong. I desperately wanted to believe that but my inner consciousness prevented me from doing so. Even my dreams told me that heroes don’t exist.

*Fucking hell…*

I was going to head to my bedroom but instead, I decided to go to my art room. I was still trying to avoid sleeping however I could. These nightmares will be the death of me. I still haven’t gotten over the fact that Julian held me underwater with alarming force, as if he were purposely trying to drown me. For a week after that, I was sick with a fever and couldn’t go see my friends or anybody for that matter. I had locked myself away in my room so that I wouldn’t get my mom sick. My fever may be gone, but now and again I could still feel the tickle of a frog in my throat.

I kept a wary lookout to make sure nobody was following me and that I would not cross paths with anybody. After the emotional moment I just had with my mom, I just wanted to be left alone… my chest hurts in a way it hasn’t hurt in a while. I can’t remember the last time I felt this level of sadness.

When I came into my art room, I leaned my back against the door to take in the view. At first, I was blown away and then I was embarrassed, thinking that somebody like me didn’t deserve such treatment. Why would anybody show a villain kindness? Taking in the view made my heart jump to my chest when I remembered doing the same thing in my room and came across Julian’s fury to the maximum.

*Was that the really maximum? I feel like it could get a lot worse.*

After warily looking behind each canvas, under the table, and in any other place I could think of hiding, I felt certain that it was empty. I let out another sigh, but this time out of relief.

*Thank fuck.*

The art room was beginning to feel like a sanctuary for me, a place where I could calmly express myself. I never would’ve thought that drawing was such a passion of mine. Sure, spray painting buildings was fun, but I didn’t even realize how much I enjoyed it.

I hoped nobody came into this second personal space of mine because I had black and white drawings of butterflies, sunsets, and animals like wolves and tigers. Just stuff that came to my mind. As for Julian’s portrait… I stuck it in the corner because I was too damn proud to toss it into a burning dumpster.

The sickening memory of Julian secretly recording us in this room crossed my mind again, and I did my best to shut that out. After all of this time, I still didn’t confront him about it. I told myself that it was better this way… that it wasn’t worth the effort. That it wasn’t worth my valuable time.

As I got my black and white paint ready, I decided to add in orange and green this time. Yeah. I was gonna attempt to draw Mom. It might get rid of the pain in my chest and bring me mercy for the rest of the night. My impatient ass made me a speedy painter, but somehow it still looked good. Right when I was finishing up her ponytail that flopped over her shoulder with the orange paint, I heard a knock on the door. My eyes rolled with annoyance.

*Oh, fucking joy and bliss, I wonder who that could be…*

“Just get your fucking ass in here already. I don’t know why the hell you knock!” I angrily barked before continuing my work with aggressive strokes of my brush.

When Julian walked into my art room, he looked around with wonder. His lips partially parted as his gaze hopped from one canvas to the other. “It’s been so long since I’ve been in here. You’ve been working, I see.”

“I’m not *working*. I’m just fucking around.” I gave my infamous grouchy grumble as my strokes became slower and more careful as I dotted out my mother’s freckled cheeks.

Julian walked up behind me and placed his hands on my wide hips and his chin on my shoulder. His scent, touch, and warmth alone made my accursed heart flutter.