Page 3 of Fated
Now, my heart sank like a stone in water at the realization I’d never again hear her say those words, never again wrap my arms around her and soak up the love to be found in her embrace.
The warmth of her presence, the love and comfort she had so effortlessly given—it was all gone. She was gone. Mom no longer existed in this world, but I did, now utterly alone.
My eyes squeezing shut, I struggled to breathe through the agonizing pain emanating from the hole in my chest, a hollow ache so deep it was suffocating. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced—sharp, raw, all consuming, as if a vital part of me had been ripped away, leaving a hurt radiating through every inch of me.
How could such evil exist?
What kind of monster could take my mother’s life in such a horrid, brutal manner? Mom had only ever been kind, gentle, everything that was good and pure. Imagining how alone and afraid she must have been in her final moments fractured my soul, leaving it in shattered pieces.
“Mom, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” I whimpered as tears fell from my face to my knees, my body rocking back and forth, as though my very essence was bleeding out of me.
The pain was so unbearable, it was though I might die too.
My head lifted, hearing footsteps approaching.
“Areya—are you here? You’re safe now.” It was a male voice.
I squeezed my eyes shut again, willing all of this to go away, to not be real.
How could it be possible to leave this closet and face the reality of life without my mom? I wasn’t sure I even wanted life to go on at all.
But then, as if hit by a freight train, one thought crashed into me, knocking all the air from my lungs. My eyes shot open, my heart pulsating hard as my gaze met my hands.
Why am I covered in my mother’s blood?
Chapter 1
The clock on the stove read 9:30 p.m. when I walked through the door of my modest single-story brick home. I kicked off my shoes and stretched my arms above my head, letting out a yawn. The kitchen was dark, lit only by the faint glow from the streetlights filtering through the blinds.
I made my way over to the fridge, finding a carryout container of my favorite chicken Alfredo from the Italian restaurant down the street. Mom had texted earlier, letting me know she’d picked up dinner after a long shift at the hospital.
As the food warmed in the microwave and the scent of garlic and creamy Alfredo filled the kitchen, the sound of the television was playing from the other room. After pulling out the food from the microwave and grabbing a fork, I made my way into the living room.
There, curled up in her usual spot on the couch, was Mom, cozy in her pajamas, and wrapped snugly in a blanket. Her blonde curls—a stark contrast to my straight dark brown hair—were pulled back into a messy bun away from her youthful face.
She was completely absorbed in the new reality show she had been raving about for days.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of her, eyes glued to the screen and a huge grin lighting her face. She was so lost in the drama unfolding on her show, she hadn’t even realized her daughter was home again until she heard me laughing.
Her eyes finally broke away from the TV, and she looked up at me, still grinning widely. “You’ve got to see the new guy—Chuck—they’ve brought on this week.”
Before I could even respond, the remote was already in her hand, rewinding the episode.
“He’s so weird!” she exclaimed. “Just wait until you hear what he says to Karla as soon as he gets to the mansion.”
I shook my head, smiling, making my way over to sit down next to her on the worn but still comfortable gray sofa. Tugging at the blanket on her lap, I pulled it over mine too. As I took a bite of food, my eyes focused on the screen just in time to watch Chuck appear. I nearly choked with laughter when he opened his mouth and sang—horribly, I might add—to Karla.
The scene ended and she paused the show, setting the remote down on the side table before turning to me. “So, how was tonight?”
I leaned into her, laid my head against her shoulder, and let out a long sigh.
“It was fine. The triplets were as wild as ever. Oh, but Mrs. Bryson gave me an extra twenty dollars for the fact she got back a few minutes late.”
After my first year at community college, I’d been filling my summer with babysitting and pet-sitting jobs, determined to save up for the next semester myself.
If only I could ease Mom’s financial burden a little …
“Was this your last job until we get back from the beach?” she asked.
