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I want to turn around and run as far away as I can, erasing the picture from my mind. But I can’t. It’s burned in my brain. “Emerson,” Mum says with a smile. A real, happy smile. She never smiled like that back at Beast Eye.
I ignore her and walk straight to the kitchen, ordering a plate of waffles. I may not want to witness this, but I am not letting them ruin my breakfast. As soon as I get my waffles, I take them to the furthest table away from my mum and Albert and sit with my back facing them. I am not witnessing my mum converse with a murderer.
They don’t seem to care that I’m sitting away from them, or that I’m clearly writhing in anger right now, while my poor breakfast is left untouched. I can hear them chatting away and laughing like I’m not even in the room.
That’s when I realise. Albert really wasn’t lying when he said that Mum might actually like it here. She didn’t come back to Beast Eye because that’s not her home. This is. It always has been.
I slam down my cutlery loud enough to silence the pair mid-sentence. Standing up, I storm over to Mum and look her straight in the eyes, “How could you?” is all I say because no other words will suffice for the amount of pain I feel right now. She just looks at me like she kicked me, and Albert sees this as the perfect opportunity to leave the room, declaring that he had some type of meeting he is late for.
Mum pats the chair next to me, but I stand, unmoving. “I’m sorry, Emerson. That was probably hard to witness without explanation. I-”
“Without explanation?” A deep laugh escapes my throat. It is filled with sarcasm and betrayal. “Yeah, Mum, tell me. What ‘explanation’ can you give that will justify you talking to him.” When she doesn’t answer, I continue, “He’s a murderer, Mum. He has killed innocent people. He has had the ability to split a nation in half by a single word. He took you away from me. He tortured me. He’s corrupt, Mum. How could you forget about Annabelle and what she went through? Do her words mean nothing to you?” I didn’t want to bring up Annabelle like this, but Mum has given me no other choice. I don’t understand how Mum has the ability to see Annabelle so hurt, and then joke around with the person that hurt her. It doesn’t make sense.
“What do you mean, Emerson? When have you talked to Annabelle?” She says, her eyes filled with a worried curiosity.
“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Albert was intoxicated with the ring, with its power. It corrupted him. Whatever type of person he used to be when you knew him, he isn’t that anymore. You took the ring to protect everyone from him.”
“What has Annabelle told you?” Mum asks cautiously.
“Enough to know that Albert shouldn’t be trusted.” I say matter-of-factly. I don’t know why she’s so focused on Annabelle. That’s not the point. Albert is the point.
“And how did she show you this? Through a memory?” I don’t answer, but somehow, she knows. “Emerson, I thought I taught you better.”
“Well, you’ve been dead for most of my life, so you haven’t really taught me anything,” I snap, and I see her face contort into a deep frown. I got her right where I assumed it would hurt the most. A small part of me feels guilty, but she needs to know. For us to move on she needs to understand the pain that she caused me. “Instead of looking after your daughter, you’ve been living the life with Psycho Cunningham. You’ve been laughing and joking away, living in luxury, while I’ve spent every single day of my life running and hiding and trying my best just to survive. So sorry if I don’t live up to your expectations, but I think I’ve done a damn good job at raising myself.”
“Emerson,” she says, drawing out a long, weary sigh, “please. Everything I’ve done has been-”
“To protect me? Don’t bother. I’ve heard that story before. You don’t need to make up excuses about why you left. I get it. You and Albert were best friends, you were partners. Everything that you need to do, all the experimenting you could ever want, is right here.” I wave my hand around the room, looking at all of the pleasures she has indulged herself with. She sacrificed my childhood for this place. “Why would you ever even think of leaving, am I right?” I laugh, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Oh, Emerson, don’t you understand?” She pauses and I tap my foot on the ground impatiently. I’m done with her beating around the bush. I just want her to tell me whatever she needs to say. The quicker I shut up, the quicker this can be over with.
When she realises I’m not going to answer, she continues warily. “The memory, the one that I’m guessing Annabelle showed you. It was fake.”
What? I want to scream. What is she talking about? No, she can’t be telling the truth. It seemed so real, full of too much emotion. Annabelle was watching the memory replay with tears in her eyes herself, surely that can’t all be for show. “So, you’re saying she manipulated her own memories?”
“Tell me, what exactly did she show you?” she asks, ignoring my question completely.
I don’t want to tell her in case I’m correct. I don’t want to be lied to again. I just want someone I can trust. And Jasper too. He seems to trust Annabelle’s words so much; I couldn’t bear to see his heart broken by her hands. No. I cannot believe that I’ve let myself be misled. But my mother’s stare is cold and eventually her will wins out and I explain to her the memory Annabelle showed me.
“I know that was real, Mum. I could see it in her eyes. There is no way she could be faking that.”
“You’re right,” she says. And I frown with confusion. I’m relieved, but I know there must be more to the story than what she’s letting on. “That memory is true. I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“But…”
“But she wasn’t telling the truth. That memory might have been fact, but even then, she was lying to me. She was lying to everyone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Albert wasn’t the one that got addicted to the ring. It was her. She became obsessed with it, and neither of us even realised it until he caught her wearing it while she was sleeping. That sent Albert into a frenzy because he knew the danger of it. He knew the psychological damage that it could do to her. He didn’t want to see her hurt.”
I laugh, “like he actually cares about whether or not anyone is hurt.”
“Emerson, don’t talk like that. Albert has had to make a lot of sacrifices and do things that he’s not proud of to get to where he is. He may not do everything right. But he is trying, Emerson. Give it a rest.”
I want to protest but I know it’s only going to waste my breath. We aren’t going to get anywhere by arguing.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I ask. She’s my mother, and by that fact alone I want to believe her. But I’ve been learning that you can’t trust the people you’re closest to. In fact, they’re the ones keeping the most secrets from you in the first place. “I’ve had evidence from Annabelle to show me otherwise. She has no reason to lie to me. You, on the other hand, have no evidence and seem to come up with a new excuse of why you’re lying to me each time you do it.”
