JULIETTE
“Hey pumpkin, what are you drawing?” My mom, in all her beauty and grace, asked as she stepped out of the kitchen in her sunflower apron, and a rag in her hand. She carefully wiped her fingers and plunged into the seat next to me at the dining table.
“Hey, Mom, I am drawing a family portrait of me, you, and Dad. I was going to add Aunt Karla, but she's barely around.” I smiled, my entire teeth on display.
My mom pinched my cheek and stared down at the cardboard paper I was painting on.
She gasped, her eyes widening, “It's beautiful pumpkin.” She gently held my chin and shook it. “My sweetheart is so talented. I wonder who she got it from.”
“You!” I screamed, jumping on my seat, ignoring the fact that I could stumble and fall off.
My mom grasped my shoulder, forcing me to stay in place, as she chuckled lightly, “Careful, pumpkin, you could fall, and I don't want you getting hurt.”
“Sorry, Mom,” I held the tip of my ear, tendering an apology. “I am just really excited that you love my painting, now I am sure everyone in class will like it too.”
“Of course they will. My princess made it.” She smiled and pulled me to her chest, pecking my forehead.
“I love you, Mom,” I said, a daily confession I have grown used to.
“I love you, too, my pumpkin. Now finish up your painting, and then, you can try out Mommy's cookies.”
I giggled, shaking my hands from loads of giddiness. “Okay, Mom!”
My mom retreated into the kitchen, and I took my focus back to my painting, adding a touch of red to the rainbow I drew over our heads.
Suddenly there was a loud bang on the door, and I jolted in my chair, almost slipping off it.
My head snapped to the door and the crayon in my hand fell. Another bang and a scream escaped from my lips.
“Mom! There's someone at the door.”
There was no response, I glanced at the kitchen and back at the door, unsure of which to run to.
“Mom…” I trailed off when another bang hit the door.
I trembled and jumped out of the chair sliding under the table to hide myself from whatever was behind the door.
Bang!
The sound continued and each one made me jerk harder than the last. Tears blurred my eyes, as I whimpered.
“Juliette.” I heard my mom's voice and my head snapped up, but there was no one in sight. “Mom?” I peered from the kitchen to the door. The banging had stopped, and it prompted me to leave the table and move forward.
“Mom, there's someone outside the door.”
I took another step forward despite my trembling frame. I stopped before the door and grabbed the handle, twisting it.
“Juliette, don't open the door.” My mom suddenly screamed behind me. Startled, I scurried back, but the door burst open, falling to the ground with a loud bang. The force threw me off and I staggered backwards, losing my footing and landing on my butt.
A figure walked, draped in a black matte suit and snug earpieces. I raised my head and my heart stopped.
Darius.
My breath caught in my throat as his piercing eyes stared at me, his lips twisting into a smile.
The world around me seemed to collapse, everything draining away until only shadows remained. My heart slammed in my chest and I jolted awake, gasping for air.
Sweat clung to my forehead, dripping down my temples, and my chest heaved with uneven breaths as I took in my surroundings.
I was still in Darius's room, and on his bed, the room was dark with only the light of the moon dripping in through the glass wall.
Darius was leaning by the glass wall, half in the shadow and half bathed in the silver light, with only a loose pair of sweatpants hanging from his hips.
His gaze lingered on me as he pulled up the cigarette stick to his mouth and took a long drag, puffing out a flavored smoke that didn't choke me as I expected.
I gulped and shifted, aiming to get off his bed, but his words stopped me, “Where are you going?”
I shook my head, unable to find the right response.
“In such a hurry to leave? Thought you were sleeping like a newborn pup.” He said and chuckled lightly, puffing out another round of smoke.
“I wanted to give you space,” I said, averting my gaze.
“Space? Did I ask for it?” Darius asked and I shook my head, whispering, “No.”
“You ruined my sleep the moment you started snoring.” He said and I snapped my gaze to him, brows furrowing. “I don't snore.” I countered, confident in my reply.
“No you don't.” He smirked as if something about this banter amused him, “but you make weird noises when you sleep,” he said, his voice low and calm.
Heat rose in my cheeks, unsure if that part was true or not. I was recently having a dream of my mother from when I was 6 years old, and the memory of my arrest ruined it.
“I was dreaming.”
Darius squinted, “Oh really?”
“Yes. I dreamt about being free,” I boldly revealed.
For a moment, he said nothing, letting a tense silence stretch between us, and then he looked away, and whispered, “I have dreamt about freedom too.”
I froze, as the unmistakable tone of sadness cut through my thoughts, leaving me unsettled.
“You have?” I found myself asking. Darius looked at me, and for the first time since I got here, I didn't just hear the pain in Darius’s voice, I saw it in his eyes. It wasn't forged, but raw and unexpected, even for him.
Because he suddenly turned toward the door and walked out without another word, leaving me alone with my racing mind and one weird question I never thought would pop into my mind.
How is Darius trapped too?