Page 26 of A Whisper of Cinders

“I know this is a lot to take in, but keep in mind that you were sick. You didn’t take any medication back then and your treatment is going great now.”

She keeps repeating the same nonsense, but doesn’t she understand? No matter how you turn it, I still killed my mother. It makes sense why no one visited me, or even called or sent me a letter. Who would want to contact a murderer?

“I…I need to go.”

I stand on shaky legs and slowly walk back towards the door.

“Maily, please believe me when I say you are a good person.”

That makes me pause. I look up and notice how Miss Sophia takes one step back. “A good person doesn’t commit murder, do they?”

I turn around and open the door, leaving Miss Sophia alone in her office.

CHAPTER TEN

Ithought I would be happy when I finally remembered something from my past. I was euphoric when memories of me playing the piano resurfaced, my fingers itching to touch the keys, but it stayed with daydreaming about it since there is no piano or keyboard anywhere near Anima.

Walking around with the weight of a crime on my shoulders was the last thing I was expecting and something that maybe should’ve stayed in my past. I’m certain everyone has done something in their life they are not very proud of, but…murder? I just can't wrap my head around it. It doesn’t feel like me, but who am I?

I avoided social contact, not able to face the judgment of others and even pushing Ami away. She allowed it for a week, until she burst into my room one night - which still isn’t allowed - and begged for me to tell her what she’s done wrong.

I told her eventually, after she promised a thousand times she wouldn’t look at me differently, although I would understand if she did. She said she has done things she isn’t proud of as well.

My back has recovered mostly, the muscles are sore, but manageable. Unfortunately my sessions with Miss Sophia take place every other day now. We try to learn more about the night that brought the damnation of my life. But no matter how many hours of conversations, questions or tests, my mind doesn’t reveal anything else.

Miss Sophia said it’s important I move forward, find my routine again and learn how to live with what I did. Easy for her to say.

That’s why I try to read, but the book lays open on my upper thighs, untouched. The words blend together into one blurry mess. My thoughts drift off as I try to think of what happened that night. My mother flickers in and out of view, but every time I try to focus on her, she vanishes.

I close the book and ask for a piece of paper and a pencil. Those things might seem harmless to most people, but those people don’t live at Anima. Here, anything can be turned into a weapon.

Firstly, I try to write every single detail I can remember from the night of the accident. It’s not much, and seeing the words written in front of me makes it even more real. Questions rise, I write them down as well.

What led up to this fragment?

Why did I do this?

How did I get out of the house?

A scream echoes through my head and I close my eyes. I don’t know my mother’s name or what her voice might sound like, but that one was definitely hers. A shiver rolls down my spine.

Maily.

I look up and around, searching for whoever called out my name, but I am all by myself, even the guard left me alone in here. I shake my head and look down at the paper in front of me.

What if I wanted to light a candle and something caught fire. Maybe I didn’t notice it until it was too late and the biggest part of the house was already on fire. And when I finally noticed the flames, my mother was already choking on the smoke and —

You must hurry.

My pencil falls out of my hand and I look around once more. I am going insane. Visions are one thing, but hearing voices? Yet somehow I know there is someone here with me, that I am not in fact alone, even if I can’t see anyone.

There’s this urge inside of me, telling me to start walking. I’m pulled out of the seat by an invisible force that ushers me forward. I don’t know where my feet are taking me, but they are in a hurry.

A heavy feeling settles in my stomach, one that isn’t hunger. I pass a few other kids in the hallway, offering them a soft smile even though my heart is for some reason hammering inside of my chest.

You are running out of time.

Well, that isn’t helping.