Page 34 of Beautiful Nightmare

She doesn’t move, but her face softens. “Yes, baby girl. Mommy is here.”

Shaking, the single word trembles out from between my dry lips. “How?”

“The spell’s been lifted. The old bitch is dead.”

I know that voice.

Nearly giving myself whiplash, my head spins, and before me are a set of bare feet with royal purple toenails that match my eyes. “Mom?” I murmur in disbelief, trying to figure out if this is another game of deception, compliments of my captive. Puzzled, my mind is raddled. Seeing is believing, so I’ve been told, but these eyes have seen so many lies, it’s nearly impossible to differentiate it from truth.

Looking up, her black hair welcomes me home, alongside her mischievous smile.

“She suppressed you, baby girl. Then banished us to a land far away from you. We would try and penetrate through it… and we tried so, so hard.”

Mommy’s head falls as she comes to stand next to Mom, who comforts her.

Scurrying to my feet, I delicately step over the salt and stand before the two strong women who helped shape me, mold me, and loved me. Anotherwave of emotion washes over me, and I know I am a blubbering mess, but it doesn’t matter. I finally feel whole.

Their faces have the same smile lines and wrinkles, that I proudly gave them. Both sets of eyes bring me comfort and safety, the way they would when I looked for them as a child.

I’ve missed them so much.

Raising my arms, I go to hug them but stop myself midway as I realize they are here, but they are spirits. Would I just fall through them? I just want my moms. To be overwhelmed by their scents and embrace.

“We can touch you, but you cannot touch us,” Mommy tells me as she wraps her hand around my wrist softly before flipping my arm over and calmly asking, without judgment, “Are you okay? What can we do to help?” I don’t need to look down to know what she is referencing. My cuts. My scars. Years of unimaginable pain.

Nodding, I respond timidly, “I am now. Don’t worry.” And it’s the truth.

My soulmate is dead. That scar will never heal, but that scar runs deep, invisible, and that is the only one I will pick at daily just to feel him again.

Changing the subject, I say, “What were youdoing to me just now? How am I like this?” I question, confused while trying to take my mind off other things.

“Healing you. He did a number on you, baby girl.” Mom pauses, her lips quiver, and her fists ball. “But he will never win.”

This is all I have wanted: love, compassion, worry, rules within reason, and respect.

It takes a moment, but Mom’s message finally becomes clear. It’s ominous and intriguing, and perhaps permission? My brow rises in excitement.

“We also placed a protection spell on you; he nor anyone else can do harm to you anymore. His mind games will no longer work. You hold the power now,” Mommy continues where my mom left off. Confused, I don’t understand. I hold no power; I have none. It vanished the day they died.

“The curse, the suppression, has been lifted. You are free.” Mom reaches forward, her finger glowing white as it pierces through my chest. It’s like a ball of energy because I suddenly become hyperaware as her touch warms me. “All you have to do is remember.” She says it like it’s easy, but it’s been well over a decade. “Like guiding lights, you will see. Trees that whimper now dance for thee.”

Chuckling, because I must look petrified, “It’slike riding a bike,” Mommy jokes, reassuring me as I roll my eyes.

Mom removes her finger from my chest, the glowing ball now missing. Inquisitively I look upon her, but I am only provided with a wink in response.

“This is where we leave you. We promise we will be back. Where you go, we follow. But you must do this part on your own. The reward will be sweeter that way.”

I choke up. “But I only just got you back.” They can’t leave me; I still need them.

Leaning forward, both my moms kiss my forehead and whisper, “I love you,” before fading away.

My hands lace through my long locks, growling in frustration. This is so fucking unfair.

“ROYCE!”

My body reacts, freezing in fear.

Prince’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Rage swells beneath the surface. Closing my eyes, I focus the rage on to remembering, centering the energy to bring me what I need to end this hell I’ve been living in.