Broken Past, Good Path

I know because I've tried.

                                                                                    Nine years later…

                Morgan Dylan woke up, wiping the sweat off her face. Every year, on the same day, she had the exact same nightmare. The excruciatingly real visuals of the red liquid that seemed to expand across the wooden floorboards pounded repeatedly in her head, as though it was just in front of her eyes. The murder of her mother and the following days, she feared, would always haunt her. She swung her feet over the four-poster bed that sat in the middle of her room. Her body shook as she took note of the time on the clock on her bedside table. Three a.m. The sun wasn’t even up yet and there was at least another three hours before her alarm would ring. She lifted herself off of her bed, stumbled into her robe, and crossed the cold floor with her bare feet to a body length mirror. She scrutinized her long brown hair, so familiar to her mothers’ that it blocked the air in her chest from releasing. Over the past nine years, she tried her best to prevent herself from looking like her mother. It reminded her too much of the worst day of her life. Yet, every day, she grew to look more like her mother than the last. She sighed, grateful to not have been blessed with the piercing green eyes her mother had. Instead, icy blue eyes peered back at her. Cold, unhappy eyes that Morgan wasn’t sure fit her.

Morgan dragged herself away from the mirror, pulling her robe tighter around her. She left her room, looked left to right, and crept a few doors down. She listened intently. There were no other sounds in the long hallway beside her own clipped breathing. She entered the room, not daring to make a sound. She stood by the door for another minute after closing it, waiting. When nothing seemed to change, she turned slowly. She was now in her mother’s study. Everything looked as it had nine years ago, except that there was a layer of dust that covered every nook and every book. To Morgan, it was a whole different look for the room from what she remembered of it when her mother was alive. It used to be so warm and comforting to sit in the room, sitting across from her mother and admiring her mother’s beauty. Now, it was empty as her own heart.

She stirred, noting the indents her feet made in the dust. She circled the room, once and then a second time, finally stopping in front of her mother’s desk. Everyone had been forbidden to enter this room, but Morgan no longer cared. She wanted answers. No, she needed answers. However, now that she was here, she had no idea where to look. She looked from one bookshelf to another, unsure if there were any answers to be found here at all. She moved to the seat behind the desk, sitting momentarily. She tried to channel her mother in her mind, asking her to point out where the answers to the questions she had were. Morgan squeezed her eyes shut then shot them open. She opened the first drawer, digging through it to find a stack of old, yellowed paper. She shut that drawer and opened the next, peering at the different colors of ink containers that had dried up. She went down all of one side, only finding the necessary items to write letters. She turned to the other side of drawers, opening the first one to the outline of a picture frame. It was so covered with dust that Morgan couldn’t make out what was in the picture. She lifted the frame out of the drawer, wiping the sleeve of her robe over the front to remove the dust it was encased in. As the picture came into view, Morgan sat back in the chair, tears coming very close to spilling over. It was a picture of her mother and her, in a tight embrace, smiling widely at the camera with twinkling eyes. Morgan could have stared at the picture for the rest of her life, however, a door closing at the other end of the hallway forced her into action. She quickly, and as silently as possible, returned the frame back to the drawer and closed it. She slid out of the chair to the servant’s exit at the far end of the room. She shuffled two more doors down and knocked twice, hardly making any sound on the thick wood.

Morgan waited patiently, eyeing the grooves in the wood with disdain. A few seconds later the door swung open to a pristine looking Alexandra. In all these years, Morgan never knew how her mother’s maid could always be ready, no matter the time of day. Alexandra eyed her as she entered, a scornful frown on her lips. She closed the door gently behind her.

“Another nightmare, my child?” Alexandra shuffled to her made bed, setting herself down on the edge of the fluffy sheets. Morgan nodded, taking a seat on the floor, resting her head on the woman’s lap. The action provoked a disapproving tsk from Alexandra. Even though she disapproved of Morgan sitting on the floor, she still placed a warm hand on the top of Morgan’s head. Morgan let her eyes drift close.

“Tell me about her,” Morgan asked of the woman like she did every year. Alexandra shuffled underneath her, drawing in a deep breath. As Alexandra began to speak in her proper accent, Morgan let herself relax, listening carefully to every detail.

“My child, I have something for you,” Alexandra added after her usual speech of her mother. She patted Morgan’s head gently, telling her without words to lift her head.

“No presents,” Morgan said between greeted teeth. She hated anything that reminded her of her birthday. Alexandra brushed her aside gently, stood, and walked to her small desk. Morgan followed the maid with her eyes.

“This is no gift. I’m afraid of what it might be actually,” Alexandra removed a letter from the top of her desk. Alexandra eyed the letter with dread. “Your mother gave me this letter nine years ago… She asked me to hand it over to you when you would understand. You are now of age, so I will complete the task your mother asked of me.” Alexandra handed over the letter. Morgan slowly took the yellowing envelope, her hands shaking as she flipped it over. There was nothing on the outside except for a seal stamped in red wax. Morgan felt a ripple of curiosity and trepidation flow through her. “I will give you a minute.” Alexandra left the room, leaving an emptiness that Morgan couldn’t stand. She looked over the wax seal once more, running her thumb run over the hardened surface, trying to steady her nerves. Her trembling hands broke the seal, slipped the letter out and unfolded it. She read over every word like it was her mother reading to her.

                                            My Dearest Daughter,

                                            When I found out I was pregnant with you

                                            my wildest dreams came true. You became

                                            my light in my darkest of days. You became

                                            my angel when Satan was sitting on my shoulder.

                                            You had done so much for me without ever

                                            realizing it. Now I hope that I can help you.

                                            When you read this letter, I hope you

                                            can find a shred of happiness.

                                            Don’t feel sad or bothered because of me.

                                            Instead, as is my wish, find happiness.

                                            Find what makes you strong and embrace it!

                                            Find a meaningful life! Take this as your mother’s

                                            last request.

                                            We will meet again, whether in this life,

                                            or the next.

                                                P.S. I love you with every ounce of my being!

                                                                    All my love,

                                                                    Victoria Dylan

                Morgan read and reread the letter until her eyes became too blurry to read another word. She brushed away her tears feeling resentment rise in her for crying at all. Her mother’s words still touched her. She wiped away her tears again when the door opened for Alexandra to reenter the room. Morgan trained her eyes on her scornful face as she made her way back to the bed. Alexandra rested her hand gently upon her back in a comforting gesture.

                “Is everything ok?” Alexandra asked after a few minutes of silence. Morgan shook her head, her body beginning to shake again.

                “Did my mother know she was going to die?”

 _______________________________________________________________________________

                Bradley Thomas sat on the steps of the private school he attended, adorning the mandatory school uniform as his eyes scanned the perimeter. He was early, as usual, and only a handful of students were on the grounds. In the past nine years, he had grown taller, and snarkier, according to his friends. He had grown into his dark exterior and his short cut, black hairstyle, and today was one of the darkest days of the year. The past nine years had not been easy for him. Just like everyone else in this godforsaken place, he thought bitterly. As the sun began to rise, his thoughts retreated back to the memory of his father. Leading up to the terrible ninth birthday of Miss Dylan, was never around much. He was always off on duty for Mr. Dylan. Doing his dirty work, Bradley darkly noted to himself, a grimace appearing on his masculine features. His father’s words repeated in his head. ‘I’ll make sure he keeps an eye out for her’. The sentence was distasteful in his head and he shook himself out of the current stupor he was in to get rid of the thought.

                As he shook his head his eyes glimpsed a slim feature turning the corner and making its way towards him. Just the sight of the neatly pressed uniform sent his feathers in a ruffle. You gave your word, his brain nagged at him. He stooped lower on the step, taking in the pin-straight brown hair and the icy blue eyes that were red-rimmed. He relaxed slightly, his eyes grazing across Morgan Dylan’s features once more in interest. She has been crying again, he thought. Why do you care? His keen grey eyes followed her until she disappeared inside the school. Her whole countenance ignored him and her glacier-like eyes didn’t turn his way at all. Good, he thought angrily, his eyes swiveling around and scanning the school grounds once more. Everything was clear.

 _____________________________________________________________________________________

                Noah Walstead was a little short for his age of eighteen, and perhaps not as wealthy as most of the kids in his class. However, he was more talented than anyone else in his grade and had rather good looks, in his own opinion of his blond hair and light brown eyes, nearly golden when basked in sunlight. He was good at sports, playing instruments, singing, and even a top tier student. Anything he set his mind to; he could do well. Maybe that was what attracted all of the bullying from his classmates. All but one anyway. Even though he had gathered that Morgan Dylan was easily the richest girl in school, she had an easy-going attitude and was his best and only friend. They were like two peas in a pod, eating lunch together, sharing all of the same classes, and generally enjoying everything together, which meant they also shared in the same bullying by their peers.

                Since their meeting, nearly nine years ago, when Morgan had first joined the private school he attended, they instantly became close and Noah felt a need to protect the little girl who was unaccustomed to school life. Just as today, when he saw the red-rimmed eyes of his friend, he felt it in his duty to cheer her up.

                From down the hall, he watched as Morgan approached her locker. Noah held his breath as he looked at her with nervousness he didn’t usually feel. Morgan reached her locker, pulled it open, stared for a moment before a body knocked into her, slamming her against the steel door of the locker. Noah felt his agitation grow until he was yelling down the hall, shaking a fist at Bradley Thomas, the leader of the bullies.

                “Watch where you are going numbskull!” Noah yelled, getting into the face of the popular boy at school. Noah really couldn’t understand what they saw in the buff, dark looking boy. It must be the grey eyes that attract them, Noah thought with a roll of his eyes.

                “Or what, bird brain?” Bradley shot back, his much stronger build pushing Noah back against the lockers. A crowd was growing around them, beginning to chant.

                “You will see what my fist can do to your face!” Noah bit back, raising one of his arms. A hand shot out, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him away forcefully.

                “Saved by a girl!” Bradley yelled, starting the crowd in a fit of laughter. “People clap when they see you! They clap their hands over their eyes!” Bradley yelled down the hallway, clapping his own hands over his eyes as the crowd hollered. Noah fumed, trying his best to scramble back to the crowd.

                “Let it go!” An angry, yet sad voice, ended his attempts to rejoin the fight. He let himself be led up the steps to the rooftop of the school, where Morgan finally let go of him. This was their usual place to escape when they needed to.

                “Skip class?” Noah asked, watching Morgan throw her bag down and slump onto a rusted bench. She gave a simple nod, her eyes scanning the horizon. Noah knew this side of Morgan all too well. It was time to sit down and shut up, which he did. It was also one of Noah’s favorite times because he could spend endless amounts of time to stare at the girl he liked. He took in her long, straight brown hair and the elegant, but strong, way she held herself. Her indescribable beauty pulled him towards her like an invisible string was tugging on his sleeve. He dropped his own bag between his legs, gathering his thoughts.

                I will tell her now, Noah nodded with affirmation, licking his lips in the process. His leg began to tremble, shaking the bench they were sharing.

                “Noah-.”

                “Morgan.”

                They spoke at the same time, turning to each other. Noah cleared his throat.

                “You first…”

                “…Noah… did you leave this in my locker?” Morgan held up a picture of Noah with the nostrils and some teeth blackened out, creating a very silly picture of him. Noah smiled, blushed, and scratched the back of his head. “And this?” Morgan raised her other hand, revealing a neatly wrapped gift box. Noah gave a shy nod. Morgan frowned, handed back the box, and turned away once more. “I am sorry Noah… I do not accept gifts from anyone… They are like a bad omen to me…” A pause. “What were you going to say?”

                “Er… nothing…” Noah fell silent, a pang of hurt making his heartbeat fall to a slower rhythm, as a pair of grey eyes fell back into the shadows.