6: Harmony Restored
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Grandmother's house cradles a mixture of precious memories, a dance between nostalgia and melancholy. Within these walls, I find solace amidst the suffocating expectations of others. Despite the unrelenting grudges pressed upon us, surrendering is a foreign concept to me.
How could people be so crude? My mother, a mere human, is not immune to mistakes. Their judgment cuts deep, baring teeth at us. She sought refuge in another world, escaping the pain only to confront it anew.
While humiliating at times, I question why I should take them on. The past is past, and the future beckons — that's what matters most. Amidst this, unforgettable friends gather, eager to create new memories. The thrill is palpable, but Sasha's behaviour disruptively twists the harmony we seek.
Can harmony truly be restored?
"Why the long face?"
My eyes darted across the room, Trivan was examining me. "Just thinking," I murmured, avoiding eye contact. He grabbed me by my chin, forcing me to look into his breathtaking eyes.
"Stop worrying Amara, your mother is safe. You shouldn't live your life with fret."
Blood drained from my face as he raced into his bedroom. How am I so courageous but gullible at the same time? Its so obvious that even a nitwit could connect the lines. It's getting late...I'll head to bed now.
The house was awakened by Grandmother banging the cutlery together.
"Rise and shine sleepy heads!"
Each of us groaned in disgust as we trudged out of our bedrooms. Why did she wake us up in such a manner?
I glanced over at the analog clock, it was five in the morning. What could be this important for an interruption of one's dreams?
Grandmother's eyes danced the room, I could have sworn they were doing the 'Macarena'. A box emerged from behind her back, and it was crafted from pure gold. My eyes were now fixed on the box. What could be inside? Grandmother smirked at me.
"You are not allowed to open or even touch this, Amara."
"How could you display a gold box and expect me not to at least take a peek?"
I don't have eyes at the back of my head but Sasha's gaze pierced my back. You can call me dramatic but my neck usually becomes scarlet whenever I'm unaware of someone's gaze. I turned my head to the right, and his attention was on the marble floor.
Something is suspicious about Sasha but he is not the center of attention; I have no time for him.
"Amara, in a few years you will be an adult. Isn't that fascinating?"
She caressed the box and gripped it, "This box holds your destiny!"
I hissed my teeth. "Destiny my foot," I whispered under my breath. I'm pretty sure she packed jewelry inside and craved my curiousity. Three years aren't worth waiting just to discover jewelry! Was deserting my grandmother sending her up a wall?
Jade hovered beside Sasha, "Sasha what's with all this sass?"
"You don't take a hint, do you? Run along with your little boyfriend!"
For the first time, her face glowed and she hid inside one of the cabinets.
"Buh why yuh talking to de gyal so?" Trivan grunted as he approached Sasha. Sasha showed no remorse and winked at me. He is truly getting on my nerves but at the same time...I don't know which guy to trust. Both of them are head over heels for Jade and I'm a girl hoping for a better future.
I was rather conflicted with my emotions that I did not even try to stop the commotion. Fortunately, my mother intervened and sent Sasha to his bedroom. He winked and waved at me, completely oblivious to the situation that occurred.
"Yuh see those two? I am trusting you, Evelyn, to protect this box for me, alright?" Grandmother said. Mother nodded her head and collected the box, then headed towards her bedroom.
Curiousity will be the death of me! I'm mature, right? I don't have to wait three years to collect a box that is probably filled with my grandmother's special pieces of jewelry. Or Grandmother is yet to accept death and insists I keep her precious memories. My heart throbbed and my eyes watered. What if that is why Grandmother wishes for me to wait three years to open the box?
Unable to resist the allure of the mysterious box, I found myself standing outside Mother's bedroom door, grappling with the internal struggle between my longing curiousity and the promise I made to my grandmother. The gold box seemed to radiate strange energy, calling out to me, whispering secrets that ignited my imagination.
As I reached for the door handle, a voice echoed in my mind, a distant reminder of Grandmother's words and the trust she had placed in Mother. I hesitated, torn between the desire to uncover the secrets within and the respect I owed to my family. The internal battle intensified, each passing moment amplifying the weight of responsibility.
My gaze fell upon a nearby mirror, reflecting the uncertainty etched on my face. The three years felt like an eternity, and the box became a symbol of patience and restraint. Perhaps there was wisdom in waiting, a lesson my impulsive nature needed to learn. With a deep breath, I reluctantly withdrew my hand from the door and took a step back.
The box, now guarded by the confines of Mother's room, remained a tantalizing mystery. I vowed to honour Grandmother's wishes, knowing that patience, like a delicate tapestry, weaved the fabric of time. The emotions stirred within me, a concoction of curiousity, respect, and a tinge of sorrow for the unspoken secrets that lingered within the golden confines.
As I turned away from the door, a sense of maturity washed over me. Three years may be a small sacrifice for the unveiling of a legacy, a testament to the strength of familial bonds and the endurance of love. With newfound resolve, I stepped into the uncertainty of the future, carrying the weight of a promise and the echoes of Grandmother's trust.
Jade's POV
Everyone sees me as the villain. Everyone sees me as an abnormal being, and yes, that is true. I was gullible like all the others, trading a life full of misery for power. How could Sasha be so idiotic? Is he truly giving up on what he has for one thing? He does not have a mother, but at least he has a brother.
He does not have someone to nurse him, but at least he has a brother whom he can look up to. He glances up at me with those malicious eyes; I always know what you are thinking, my foe. Not even Trivan's glasses can cure your faulty vision.
Life is not meant to be thrown away, Sasha! You are my mirror, and it sickens me that you are continuing this cycle. Magic makes me sick! My head is twirling around and around.
I left them there so Amara could see that she could be whoever she wanted to be. Were you going to let your brother decease like her? When I look at you, all I can see is me, and it tears my soul apart. I wish I had the courage like Amara to confront you, but I can't...even with magic, I am still weak.
You have lost a mother, and you are now willing to lose a brother? Once I am around...you shall not lay your filthy hands on anyone!
My internal turmoil intensified as I grappled with the burden of being perceived as a villain. The weight of my decisions, fueled by a desperate escape from a life of misery to gain power, cast a shadow over my existence. In the corridors of my mind, questions echoed about Sasha's choices, questioning his willingness to sacrifice everything for a singular pursuit.
Observing Sasha, I couldn't fathom his seemingly reckless decisions. In my eyes, he had a brother, a source of support and companionship that I had been denied. Yet, Sasha's actions betrayed a disregard for the familial bonds I held so dear. His malicious gaze, impervious even to Trivan's glasses, seemed to taunt me, a reflection of my struggles.
"Life is not meant to be thrown away, Sasha!" My internal monologue continued, the frustration evident in my words. The cyclical nature of Sasha's choices, mirroring my own past, left a bitter taste in my mouth. The mere thought of magic, the very force that had altered my fate, now sickened me.
Leaving Amara and Trivan in the room served a purpose — a stark reminder that one's destiny was not preordained by magic or fate, but by choices. I wished to empower Amara, to show her the strength to forge her path, a luxury I had been denied. The contemplation of Sasha's potential abandonment of his brother shook me to my core.
"When I look at you, all I can see is me," My reflection in Sasha's actions tormented me. The haunting realization tore at my soul, emphasizing the cyclical nature of our struggles. Amara's courage became both a source of admiration and a reminder of my own perceived weakness, even with magic coursing through my veins.
My final declaration, a vow to shield those around me from Sasha's perceived malevolence, spoke volumes. I, the supposed villain, now stood as a guardian, resolved to protect others from the path I believed Sasha was carelessly treading.
The echoes of my internal conflict reverberated in the silence that followed, setting the stage for a complex interplay of relationships, motivations, and the looming consequences of choices made in the name of power and freedom.