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We’re both frustrated. The tension was palpable in the air.
“Do I? You're so secretive about its purpose,” I murmur. I don’t know how long I have taken my medicine, but he sure does not like to say why I take it.
Internally, I have my suspicions on the purpose of the medicine. It was a gradual understanding after conveniently forgetting to take my required dose countless times.
…Or as it were me trying to avoid taking it. The occasional dropped vial, spitting out the liquid or conveniently forgetting to take the liquid. Each time, Dad would get very frustrated. But with my conveniently forgotten doses, I have noticed that Ari is around more. She became stronger with each missed dose. Even fully corporeal to the point that she could interact with the world around her.
She’d push books over, poke me, or do a variety of other annoying things.
Well, that’s except for talking to anyone but me.
“A lot of people have imaginary friends, why should I have to take medicine to make Arista go away?” I furrow my brows. “I swear that she’s nice.”
“Pandy, do not speak of her like that. She’s not real. Arista isn’t here,” he chides sternly. But a hint of something flecks in his warm eyes. Fear perhaps? “It would be dangerous for you to see it any other way. Don’t you remember Corfu?”
I gulp and nod.
Corfu was one of our old homes. Dad always warned me about talking to Ari with others around, which always felt so rude. But in Corfu, someone heard me talking to her. The whole town was set ablaze with the cursed girl talking to people who no one else could see. When he heard of the town’s plans for me, he and I had to leave in the dead of night.
“You're right,” I whisper, dropping my chin to watch my feet. Embarrassment consumes me. What happened in Corfu was something that I never want to experience again.
“Do you want us to have to leave Karpathos? Leaving behind Celeste? Your stepmom?” Dad presses me.
To be honest, I would prefer to leave my stepmom.
I held my tongue knowing that he’d not be pleased by my back talk. Today I have pushed my luck too far. Life is all about knowing when you’ve to take your hits.
“It protects you from your body.” The warm wind licks my face as Dad stands from his hunched-over position.
Narrowing my eyes, my dad is so freaking hard to read at times. Especially when his back is turned. “I'll be out of medicine by the Winter Solstice.”
“Yes. you know how we make it every year on the Winter Solstice.” Dad raises his eyebrow at me. “Do you need me to watch you take it?”
“No, I'll go take it.” I make a pouting face. Hanging my head low and head to Dad’s office.
He reminds me, eyes fixed along the forest line. “Three drops under the tongue, every single day, Pandy. You know you need the serum. I don’t want to lose you like I lost your mother. This will help you stay strong.”
Pressing my lips into a straight line. I state, “Next time can you make it taste a little less vile?” If it wasn’t so putrid, I wouldn’t need as much prompting to take the silver liquid.
Dad gives me a look. “Really Pandora? With all your knowledge of herbs and tinctures, you should know that adding something to make it taste better could change all the properties of the mixture. Even rendering it completely useless.”
Narrowly resisting the urge to stick out my tongue at him, I make my way back through the house. When I was younger, I would often stomp and shout when it came to this time of the day. But nothing ever worked.
I trudged up the stairs. Turning toward his study, I enter the room and walk over to the worn wooden desk. Unlatching the drawer, I find the container.
Rolling the silver vial, I spot a couple of ingredients that are instantly recognizable to me like a small honeycomb and lavender petals. The other plants are completely unknown to me.
Taking the dropper, I fill up the pipette before lifting my tongue. Preparing myself internally for the vile potion.
Tucking my tongue back, I brace for those three tiny drops.
One.
Two.
Three
Coughing, I splutter. My eyes water. The familiar sensation of spicy prickling rolls down my throat. Akin to swallowing a cocklebur, I shudder at imagining the hooked prongs scraping down the inside of my throat.
