Chapter Two: Amorette

‘What is going on, Amorette?’

I don’t answer, because even I don’t know what’s going on. I just stand there, the door half open, staring at the spot where she was only seconds ago. It takes a few moments for my brain to process what just happened, and when it does I finally turn to face my mother, looking down at me in disdain.

‘Well?’ she pushes, growing impatient.

‘It wasn’t… it wasn’t anybody important,’ I manage, praying that she doesn’t see through the lie, ‘Just one of those random homeless people begging for charity.’

‘Then why did your-’ she stops, unsure what to address Clover as, but then continues, ‘why did your sibling seem so… haunted?’

My brain tries to form a plausible explanation, but my mouth beats me to it. ‘The homeless person tried to grab her,’ I blurt out.

Mum’s eyebrows raise in amusement. ‘Really?’ she says, still uncertain.

I nod, silently cursing in the hope that she forgets this whole thing and moves on. And luckily, she does.

‘Fine. Well. Thank you for visiting,’ she says rather stiffly. ‘I suppose you’re free to leave.’

The sigh of relief that comes from Clover is so loud that Mum snaps her head round and fixes Clover with a look that could kill.

But if Clover notices, she doesn’t show it. She just puts on her shoes, grabs her hoodie from the coat rack, and walks out into the cold.

‘See ya,’ she says as the door closes behind her.

For the next few seconds, Mum, Dad and I stand in the hallway awkwardly, avoiding eye contact and becoming increasingly uncomfortable in the stretching silence.

‘Well, I’m going to turn myself in,’ says Dad, turning to the staircase, ‘Thanks for coming, Ettie. It’s really good to see you again.’

‘It’s good to see you too, Dad,’ I say as he plants a kiss on my forehead.

‘Goodnight.’

He disappears at the top of the staircase, leaving me and Mum alone in the hallway, and I want to get away more than ever.

‘I’m going,’ I say, pulling on my shoes as fast as my hands will allow, before standing up and facing her one more time.

She stares at me intensely, confliction haunting those empty, soulless eyes of hers. She suddenly inhales, and then says in blur of words, ‘Was I a bad mother to you?’

I pause, caught off guard by her sudden vulnerability. Does she really want me to answer that?

‘Do you think you were a bad mother to me?’ I reply.

She looks at the floor, trying to come up with a response. ‘I mean – I don’t think – I wasn’t – I suppose I -’

‘It’s a yes or no question, Mum,’ I interrupt, becoming even more desperate to leave.

Silence.

‘No,’ she says finally, and any traces of the conflict that shaped her expression vanish in an instant.

‘Then you weren’t a bad mother to me, alright?’ I insist, though I’m lying and I know it.

She nods, quickly regaining her confidence and superiority.

‘Goodbye, Amorette,’ she says with a sort of finality.

‘Bye, Mum.’

Though it’s liberating to get away from the place, the feeling of guilt crawls into my ear and plants a small seed of doubt in my brain.

And in that moment, my body seizes up with a burning pain, suffocating and blinding, and the world goes dark.

‘You’re mine now.’