Page 24 of A Whisper of Cinders

You can. Breathe.

Easy for him to say. If even the voice of my rare dreams finds me in this nightmare reality, I must have really gone mad. Something presses on my chest, and the oxygen becomes fewer with every passing second.

I am part of you, so yes, I do feel what you’re going through.

Right. Because he is the voice from my dreams, my voice of reason. Does that mean —

This isn’t happening to you right now. So, breathe.

“Breathe, Maily.”

A female voice echoes around me and the pressure I felt before turns into hands touching my upper arms, gently shaking me to bring me back to the present time.

The smoke and fire fade away in an instant, yet I’m still burning. I don’t know what that was, but it was too real to be something that my mind created.

I blink once. Twice. My surroundings become clearer, not the hazy view caused by smoke. I’m on my knees and Miss Sophia is crouched down in front of me. “There you are,” she says softly. “Take all the time you need.”

Her face moves away out of my line of sight and I try to find my grounding as my pounding heart is in no rush to calm down. I count every breath, as it is the only thing that can currently occupy my overwhelmed mind.

“You’re safe, dear, breathe.”

When I finally feel steady enough to move, I carefully push myself up and sit back down in the worn out leather seat. Miss Sophia holds a glass of water in front of me, the condensation leaving water droplets on the exterior.

My fingers curl around it and a little bit of steam raises where my hand meets the cool surface. Guess I must be really burning up then…

I empty the glass in a matter of seconds and my aching throat burns less than before. I look up at miss Sophia. “Could I maybe get some more?”

“Of course.”

She turns away and walks over to the small fridge in the corner of her office. What the hell just happened? Miss Sophia places the glass on the coffee table between us. “There you go.”

I take a sip, but can’t hold myself back from draining the glass once more.

Miss Sophia sits down in the seat across from me and takes a moment to observe me before she starts talking. “How are you feeling?”

“I…I don’t know. I feel off. Weird.”

“Mhm, mhm,” she hums, writing down something in her notebook. “Can you tell me what just happened?”

I look up at her face that doesn’t reveal any emotion. She offers me one of her gentle smiles, patiently waiting for me to start talking.

“I was back in the room, the one from before.” I look down at my hands, my fingers fidgeting, a habit I seem to have picked up when I get nervous. “Everything was the same as before, the same walls and floor, the same furniture. The room was still burning and smoke clung to the air, but…”

I look back up at Miss Sophia and gone is the smile, instead a more serious expression is plastered on her face. “Go on, dear.”

“There was someone with me in the house, I wasn’t alone. And although I don’t know who she is, it isn’t the first time I’ve seen her.” I swallow audibly, my eyes following the movement of Miss Sophia putting her pen down. “A week ago, I believe, I had one of these visions. I was in the library and out of nowhere I was in the room again, but she was there too.”

I look out the window. Small snowflakes fall from the sky. “I know her, this woman, I think she is someone from my past, but I can’t remember a name and I don’t know what relation we might have.”

Miss Sophia closes her notebook. “Maybe we should —”

“She might have been my neighbor or a family friend, or…”

Family.

And like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, I know who she is. Notice the same up tilted nose and full lips, the same face structure. She could be an aunt, but deep down I know our bond was much closer than that “She is…she is my mother, isn’t she, Miss Sophia?”

She stands up and walks over to the tall cupboard where she keeps most of her files. “I don’t know who you saw in your head Maily, and we don’t have much information about your life before you arrived here, but…” she opens up a thick folder and holds a square piece of paper. “You had this on you when you were standing on our doorstep five years ago.”