The talk with mom.
1409 Words
I ran. Past the grand staircase, past the endless halls that made this house feel more like a museum than a home.
My breath hitched as I threw the doors open, stepping into the fading sunlight.
The scent of salt and damp earth clung to the evening air as I made my way to the beach. My heart was still racing when I collapsed onto the sand, hugging my knees to my chest.
The waves stretched before me, dark and endless, rolling toward the shore like silent ghosts.
The ocean always had a way of making me feel small, but tonight, it felt different. Heavier. As if something unseen lingered beneath the surface, watching.
A shiver crawled down my spine.
“You look lost.”
The voice was soft, almost musical.
I turned sharply.
A girl stood beside me.
She was young—eight, maybe nine—her black hair dripping wet, clinging to her pale skin. Her clothes were damp too, a thin dress clinging to her small frame as though she had just stepped out of the water.
But it wasn’t just her presence that unsettled me.
It was her face.
I knew her.
I didn’t know how, or from where, but I did.
“Hey,” I managed.
“May I sit?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitated before nodding.
She sank onto the sand beside me, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the grains.
“I’ve never seen you around here before, your first time?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, my eyes still locked on her. “What about you?”
She tilted her head slightly. “I’ve been here for a long time.”
I frowned. “You live around here?”
She nodded, then pointed—to the water.
I blinked. “Where?”
“There.”
My stomach twisted.
“In the water?”
Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile.
“Do you know where this water begins?” she asked instead. Why did she dismiss my question?
I frowned. “No.”
“Willowbrook.”
The name hit me like a punch to the chest.
“Willowbrook?” my frown deepened.
She turned to me, “Yeah, you know there?” she asked.
“Yeah. That’s… that’s my grandmother’s town," I said slowly.
“I know.”
A strange silence stretched between us. My pulse pounded in my ears.
“How do you know the water starts there?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Who doesn't?”
A sharp gust of wind blew past us, carrying the scent of salt and something else—something old, something cold.
I swallowed. She must mean she lived near the water, I reasoned. Maybe in one of those houses built on stilts. People live on water, don’t they? It’s not that strange.
And yet, something in my gut twisted.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
She hesitated.
“Ryn.”
“Ryn.” I repeated it, the name feeling oddly familiar on my tongue.
“And you?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Aurora.”
A flicker crossed her face—recognition?
“Aurora,” she echoed, testing the name as if it was a forgotten memory.
I looked at her and I thought I saw ‘help’ flash through her eyeballs, I shook my head again, I was hallucinating.
She looked pale, as if she had been swimming all day long, “Don't you think you would catch a cold, you look pale.”
“I stayed in that big water for so many years without catching a cold.” She said cryptically, gesturing to her body.
Okay, this was confusing, probably because of her accent. I must had misheard her words, maybe she meant, she had gotten so used to swimming that she no longer feared catching a cold.
It was already getting dark and people were already packing up to leave the beach, the sun was finally going to retire, I should get going.
“Aren't you going to be late for dinner, I'm sure your parents would be worried about you.”
She looked at me and smiled, “No one is waiting for me, but your Mom is.”
“My Mom?”
My phone buzzed violently in my pocket, making me jump. I fumbled for it, my hands shaking slightly.
A message from Mom.
Rory, I’m home. Work got postponed. Where are you? It’s getting late.
I exhaled, pressing my palm against my forehead. I turned back to Ryn.
She was gone.
A cold shiver ran through me. The wind howled against the empty shore. The waves lapped at the sand, their rhythmic whispers the only sound left.
I told myself I was imagining things.
But when I looked down, I saw it.
In the sand where she had been sitting—
H E L P.
The beach security men yelled at me to get off the beach, saying they wanted to close it. I ran out of the beach, but I could sense something staring at me from the water.
My chest tightened.
***
The house was quiet when I stepped inside, the heavy wooden doors shutting behind me with a dull thud. The scent of coconut rice lingered in the air, warm and familiar, but it did nothing to ease the unease clawing at my chest.
Mom was in the kitchen, setting the table. She glanced up as I entered, her face unreadable.
“You didn’t tell me you were going out.”
I shrugged. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”
She sighed. “Aurora—”
“Let’s not do this now,” I cut in, grabbing a plate.
Silence stretched between us as we ate. The food tasted like nothing.
After dinner, I made my bed and went back to the study room to get my backpack, switching off the study light.
I proceeded to retire into my room when I saw a figure. My breath caught, my body tensing—
The light flicked on.
Mom.
I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to my chest.
“Mom, you scared me.”
“We need to talk,” she said.
I glanced past her, toward the stairs. “Can we do this later?”
“Here,” she said firmly.
I sighed and leaned against the wall. “Fine. What?”
She hesitated. “Why are you treating me like this?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe because you and Dad lied to me? Maybe because you uprooted my entire life without warning?”
“Aurora—”
“No, Mom. You took me away from everything. My school, my friends. You didn’t even let me say goodbye. You just… decided. Like I didn’t matter.”
Her face fell.
“We thought this was best for you,” she said quietly.
“Best for me?” My voice cracked. “Best for me, you say, I left my school, my friends, all my memories, and everything I loved behind, you brought me to this environment without knowing how it would affect my psychological health,” I said with tears in my eyes.
“Ever since you brought me here, I haven't had any peace, I'm always alone, you and Dad spend weeks working and leaving me alone, and to make matters worse, I've been having a night–” I stopped myself.
I almost spilled it. I looked at Mom, she was almost teary, she looked at me and I turned my back to her.
“Rory, I'm sorry, your dad and I love you so much and we took this step for your comfort.” I looked surprised as I turned to her. Was she being serious?
“My comfort? Are you and Dad spending weeks away from me, my comfort? When was the last time we sat as a family together to have a meal together? Do you even know how I'm performing in my studies? Do you.” I couldn't control myself and I let my tears fall.
“Rory–”
I shook my head, stepping past her. “Forget it. No use crying over spilled milk.”
“Aurora—”
“Save it.”
I kept walking, my breath shaking.
You may call me rude or spoilt, but my parents deserved every bit of my anger.
- Writer
