The sum of life is not a singular object of entirety—rather, it is an existence that is forever changing.

There are several features of life that can be deemed both unfair and fair, controllable and uncontrollable, but also objective and partial. There can be choices, perhaps millions of them, but they are often merely byproducts or aftereffects. These choices can quickly result in repercussions that stem from a single situation, and create several outcomes.

The action.

The death of a mother, a teacher, and a wife alike. Though it is understandable, adults—especially guardians—will often try to keep the deceased in the hearts of children, but rarely ever in their developing minds. The dead will not come back. The living will be forced to move on. And, the truth will be saved for a later date. The scent of vanilla, sweet yet sickening, will perhaps always linger near the tip of a wiggling nose. Unfortunately, the irresistible texture of citric acid and the taste of something sour will never fade the memory of biting into a stale cake.

The consequence.

The hidden resentment for a grieving father. There are powerful emotions that can materialize, merge, and divide from prominent pits of overbearing feelings. Sadness. Anger. Guilt. The poorly done invitations that were designed to invite other children to the numerous past parties have long stained the young fingers of the innocent with the invisible stench of cruel alcohol. The tremble of little hands barely managed to mask the smell with expired perfumes.

The aftermath.

The inability to accept the good that comes. There is only so much that a small child can do—however, they will stretch out their short arms until their biceps start to ache with a burning pain. The attention that they naturally crave will be shushed for the very last time, and they will no longer reach towards those they once did. And, when someone new introduces themselves with an oddly soft touch, the now-grown child will only know how to reject them.

These secrets are kept locked by even the unlikely.

And, levels of confusion will rapidly multiply to surround them. The slow destruction of a man's morals. The assumed betrayal of a sister. The influence of memories. The dominance of a bond. The earth continues to spin, society continues to change, and confusion continues to be an excuse.

Who is truly in control?

My meddling thoughts were interrupted as a slightly chipped teacup was placed in front of me by a thin hand. The prolonged evidence of a ring must have scarred the fourth finger of their left mitt, leaving a lasting impression. The pale, meerkat face of Vakerie became the most prominent view as my eyes trailed up the path of her covered arm.

"This is chamomile tea, simple yet effective at easing the wandering mind, and it has been sweetened with an appropriate amount of honey."

Vakerie watched with a subtle look of delight as I reached forward to grip the handle, conscious for the waves of heat that wafted off the sloshing liquid. The past couple of days were filled with benevolent moments shared with Vakerie—which mostly consisted of her making a full pot of alleviating tea and us enjoying it by the batches. Through sips, we would gladly converse.

"Thank you, Vakerie." The rough patch of my neck prickled as I gently glided the back of my fingers over my nearly restored wound, basking in the success of reaching the maturation phase of healing. "I really appreciate this."

"I do, too," she replied as her lips scrunched into a smile. Her voice was firm, similar to any other doctor, but elegant with age and lively with youth. "I enjoy speaking with you, especially without being interrupted by a certain someone."

Morpheus had been gone since the day that I had first woke up, which was initially very surprising. The final minute that we spent together featured quick kisses and whispered words of endearment. Interestingly though, Johnny and Lyonechka went back with him to the rest of the pack of Ventus, both to apologize to those such as Annora and to apparently scout the area for any sign of concern. They all deemed that here, a vampire's manor, would be a safer location for me. And, Morpheus had no choice but to go home for obvious reasons. After all, a leader must lead.

Their take on safety is debatable, but okay.

Vakerie is quite likeable, however, as well as the rest of the manor's main inhabitants. Iyan tends to beat me at chess, but Rhosyn is particularly terrible at it—thus keeping me both humble and proud. They resemble that of a perfect picture example of a regular family, utilizing dreary days to take a long walk in the park and saying 'goodnight' to each other before retiring to their own rooms at differing hours of the morning. The only time that I had even seen a sliver of a fang was when Vince stubbed his toe and dropped to the floor in agony. At the time, it seemed to be a bit dramatic of him, but it quickly became an understandable reaction after repeating the same gesture five minutes later.

Well, you know what they say about Victorian furniture—luxurious, but deadly.

I laughed at her comment. "That's fair."

"Indeed." She sighed as she curled back her hair, tucking the long strands behind her heavily pierced ears and skimming the fine gold hoops that decorated much of her cartilage. "The movements of the surrounding forest will warn me of his visit, thankfully. A perk of good hearing that I never knew would be so useful. I feel that they will be here soon, though. They really shouldn't be much longer."

I nodded, but before I could answer, the scratchy voice of Vince chimed in. The boy suddenly threw his body onto the nearby fainting couch within the parlour, scraping his face against the harsh material. There was a familiar groan in his tone. "This place was so peaceful before that scary one came! I used to be able to do anything and everything without him here, leave at anytime, explore anywhere, meet with anyone. The man foams at the mouth as soon as he notices me! I feel like a rat left in the shadows—wasting away from deprivation, hiding from people like I'm some sort of disease, suffering from neglect!"

"It's because you're nosy."

Vince gasped, "Nosy? Vakerie, how could you say that about me?"

"Because it's true," Vakerie stated. "Perhaps, if you didn't constantly stalk the hallway outside of Emery's guest room like some rat chewing at someone else's privacy, then Morpheus would trust you enough to let you walk about freely."

Vince twisted and turned, sprawling his slender limbs across the couch's uncomfortable surface. His eyes widened as they flicked over to my curious gaze. "Can you believe this?" He pointed his focus back to Vakerie. "I have to stop my inquisitive nature in my own home. It's not like we get visitors often, unless it's delivery day Tuesday, but still. I think that I have the right to feel out the unexpected strangers before I let my guard down. Are we even talking about the same man here? Are we? Did you see the size of him? He could snap me like a twig! No hesitation!"

Vakerie waved his words away as she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, Emery, how is your tea?"

"Oh, it's delicious." The gentle notes of a floral tea temporarily devoured my senses once I gulped down a mouthful of the forgotten drink.

Vince and Vakerie were friendly, and so were Rhosyn, Iyan, and Lyonechka. There were no threatening glances, no stereotypical massacres, no mumbled insults, and no disguised animosity. Instead, there were thousands of compliments and a lot of casual reassurance. They had reminded me to let go of fear and to safely embrace the unknown. My perception should be my perspective.

A sigh of content slipped past my lips.

At the same time, Vakerie's hand had fumbled with the teacup that she was using. It tilted sideways until a drop of warm tea had spilled onto the table. The entire room sucked in a breath at her falter.

"Do you hear that, Vince?" She asked in a whisper.

His irritated movements stilled. "Yes. I hear it."

💕