Page 67

Amias

"So… You believe she's innocent?" Dr. Willow asks as he sits in the cream-colored couch across from mine. His back up straight, looking at me with gray eyes behind small square glasses.

I explained everything I could about my relationship with Ignatia with this therapist, from the beginning to the end.

Maybe it was the calming aroma of lavender or the beautiful paintings of mountains and flowers on the walls or maybe even the comfort of the soft couch that inspired me.

Whatever it was, I pushed myself to speak once again. “Yes. She's innocent."

"So you don't believe anything was done without your consent?" he says, writing down notes on his notepad.

"I consented to everything."

"Of course you would think that. I understand."

My teeth clench, the spark of hope within me ceasing. He's not listening. His eyes stick to the paper, concreting on the writing more than me.

I take in a sharp breath. "She's not a monster like everyone says she is. I actually love her. She didn't play me into some stupid trick."

"Yes, of course." He glances up with a nod. “Of course you loved her a lot."

I squint. That seemed more like a sly comment than anything. “You don't believe me, do you?"

"Of course I believe you." He smiles, but it's lost its genuineness. "You really do love her a lot, and she doesn't seem like a monster to you. Those feelings are completely valid."

I want to fight back against that wording, but instead my foot taps in annoyance. Fuck him. I was a fool to think he’d actually listen.

Dr. Willow continues. “So, your mother said you were really attached to the idea of having a soulmate.”

I don't reply. It's not like it will help me or anyone to speak. They won't listen.

"Would you say that's true?" he prods.

I stare at my tapping foot and bite my lip.

"Do you feel uncomfortable?"

I wrinkle up my nose, and stand up. "Let's just end the meeting…" I march out the door and slam it behind me without hesitation.

I don't need a therapist. I just need someone to listen.

I storm into the waiting room, where my parents wait on pale purple couches under a butterfly painting. Their heads lift before I shake my head at them.

"Dove?" Mother calls me. I don't reply and walk into the hallway.

I slide my back down against the smooth pale blue wall next to the entrance to the waiting room. I turn my head towards the glass door down the entrance hall, leading to cherry blossoms standing on either side of the doorway. I take in deep breaths to calm myself down.

Speaking has never felt so useless. They talk about my feelings but dismiss everything else. I feel I gave consent. I feel that our love was real. It's never 'I gave consent' or ' our love was real.'

They believe I must've been manipulated to feel this way and refuse to think otherwise.

"Amorette?" I hear the therapist from the waiting room. "Is your son alright?"

"I think he's just a little heartbroken," she murmurs. "I'm sure it's nothing to do with you. This has all been stressful."

"Yes, it seems he may have some type of psychosis resulting from the abuse. Perhaps having such an attachment caused something akin to Soulmate Depression. Of course, we need a full session before I can make a diagnosis, but once we get that far, I can prescribe him some medications."

I squeeze my eyes shut and grind my teeth. Fuck this.

"Dove!" Mother calls. I can hear her soft steps behind me. "Dove, can you please finish this therapy session?"

I refuse to look her way and bite my lip.

"Dove… please, come inside. You're breaking my heart."

I hear sniffles behind me and sink into my shoulders.

"Dove… I love you… I hate seeing you so heartbroken. It's been over a week. I notice, whenever you let me in your room, you only take a bite of food before you throw away the rest of your meal. You can't even eat a whole slice of bread."

I stay quiet. Nothing will help.

“You barely talk anymore. You stumble around and your eyes are puffy like you haven't slept for years. I've even noticed you're wearing the same clothes since she left. This… this isn't you. You’re not even doing the bare minimum to take care of yourself.”

“It doesn't matter to me.” Why should it?

She sits besides me. "We've been through so much. I mean you were born under circumstances where no one would know if you would live or die."

I look over my shoulder to her, my heart dropping at the mention of my birth.

Tears shine in her eyes. "And after you had survived, all I wanted was for you to live happily. Just to live carefree."

"Mother…"

"I'm not taking you to therapy because I hate you. I want you to heal from this. I'll go however far I can to help you. Group therapy, a mental care hospital, medication, even if we have to travel to another kingdom, literally anything…" she whimpers. "Just please… I want my dove back again."

I turn my body towards her, hope pulsing through me once more. I know she means what she's saying. I can see it. I can hear it.

I hold her hands together and lift them so they are right in between us. “I just need you to listen, Mother.”

Mother's eyes widen, but she curtly nods. “I'm listening, dove.”

I try to hold it together as tears sting my eyes. Hope conflicts with dread that my senses are wrong. "Mother… Ignatia is innocent…"

She nods. "I know-"

"Dreamscreechers are innocent. Everything me and Ignatia had was real." I try to say it as firmly as I can despite my throat trembling. "We touched the amare flower. It glowed like it would with soulmates. Maybe even brighter. She saved my life multiple times. She loved me…"

She frowns but stays silent. She bites her lip thoughtfully with a slow nod. I don't know what's really going on in her brain but it feels like a sliver of our connection has been rebuilt. Maybe she'll at least consider what I'm saying.

“Grandmother is wrong…” I whisper.

Finally she sighs. "We will discuss it with Grandmother as soon as she comes back.”

"We can talk about it right now."

We both snap our heads to the door to face a familiar tall figure, standing with her white hair in a bun and her arms crossed. Her eyes glow like a pink torch, the same shade as her silky ball gown.

Mother and I almost gasp in unison. "Grandmother?" I whisper.

"What is this?" she yells. "What kind of delusions are you trying to give your Mother? What has poisoned your mind?"

"He was just telling me how he feels," Mother says firmly as our hands drift apart. "Calm down!"

"He shouldn't feel that dreamscreechers are innocent," she hisses. "That thinking is just as poisonous as the creatures themselves!"

"No!" I stand from the ground with fists balled up. "It’s your kind of thinking that is poisonous!"

She tilts her head back, her jaw dropping. "What happened when I left?"

"I found love. She was a dreamscreecher and has given me more love than any other woman could. She showed me the truth about dreamscreechers."

Her nose wrinkles. "You… You are mad! Are you really so desperate for love that it would come down to this? After all I taught you? About your grandfather? About Lydia? No wonder you became corrupt!"

"Mother! Calm down!" Mother yells from behind. "You're making it worse!"

"This is what Cosmo's been warning me about!” Grandmother shouts. “This type of thinking is unfit for society! It can get the whole of Adoro killed!" She looks at me with vicious glowing eyes. "You will have a cleansing ceremony in three days.”

I gawk. "What?"

"You heard me!" she growls. "We will have a cleansing ceremony.

You will, in front of the whole kingdom, apologize for what madness you've caused and reaffirm that dreamscreechers are evil. You will drink a potion to erase all your memories of dreamscreechers and kill that little dreamscreecher yourself.”

I'm suddenly gulping for air. She can't be serious! “You said you wouldn't cleanse me…”

“I didn't think you would turn out like this !”

My throat tightens, making it harder to breathe. She lied to me. I can't forget about Ignatia. I can't kill her! I can't be forced into believing a lie again! "You can't do that to me!"

"Oh yes I can! You won't remember her enough to save her. That way, I can guarantee she will never poison your mind again and you’ll have redeemed yourself."

"Grandmother…"

"I'm doing this for your own benefit! She's poisoned your mind!” she spits. “This is what happened with Lydia after that mongrel went after her! Killing the creature will set you free!”

“No!” I plant my feet on the ground as if they could go deeper into it. “You have to understand! This is all a misunderstanding! We can talk about this!”

“Enough of this foolishness!” Grandmother snaps, before turning her back. “We’re going to announce that the ceremony will be happening, right this instant! ”

“I refuse!”

She grunts coldly. Her eyes glow red and suddenly scarlet tutela flowers wrap around my wrist and drag me forward. I twist and tug from the stems, but it does me no favors.

“Leave him alone!” Mother yells. “This is too much!”

Her soft steps become louder behind me and I look over my shoulder just before a wall of woven tutela flowers blocks Mother's path. Her own flowers wrap around to yank the wall down but it's useless. She groans in frustration, as she tries to pry the wall with her hands.

“Mother!” I yell. Is she okay?

Grandmother scoffs, “I'm sorry, Rose flower. This has to be done.”

The flowers jerk me forward again, and I wrestle with them. I can't let this ceremony happen! “No, it doesn't!”

“What is it going to take for you to cooperate?” She narrows her eyes.

“That's just it! I'm not letting myself go through with this ceremony!”

She huffs before I feel the flowers snake up my arm and around my shoulder. I watch them, tugging away from them again. As if this is gonna make me struggle less. “You're gonna have to do better than-”

The stems snatches my neck.

They coil around tightly before I have a chance to fight back.

I can't breathe.

I can't breathe.

Why can't I breathe?

“Will you cooperate now?” Grandmother says lowly. “Or do I need to do this to your little dreamscreecher to convince you?”

I look down at her, tears spilling out my sockets as I claw at the stems. I try to cry in response but it dies on my tongue.

I can't fill my lungs with air. It hurts to even try.

My heart pounds. My legs kick. She can't be doing this. Right?

She's the Gift of Love. She's supposed to love.

Why would she… How could she…?

She’ll kill me!

One scrape at the stems with my nails - the stems tighten. I attempt to wrench them off me. They only squeeze tighter.

I frantically tear at them, nearly ripping off my own skin around my neck. They only tighten.

Each scratch is useless.

There is no escape.

Tears run down my cheeks. Colorful dots blur my vision. My feet and hands start to tingle with weakness.

I'm going to die! She'll kill me!

Finally the stems loosen around my neck. A cry escapes me as I fall to my knees. Each breath is like a gulp of cold water after spending a month in the desert. Sobs also escape me as I hold my neck, a river flooding from my eyes.

How could Grandmother do that to me?

“I'll do what it takes to get you to listen,” Grandmother says finally. “Whether I have to use my flowers on you, or that disgusting creature if you dare escape this cleansing. This is for your own benefit.”

No. She can't do that to Ignatia. She doesn't deserve this!

I breathe hoarsely as the stems wrap around my arm and wrist. I cry out in protest but she tugs me towards her, leading me outside of the building.

I fail to see how choking me is for my benefit.