Continuation from part 9.
I feel like a passenger.
This is a mystery that she feels would forever be unresolved, a burning question that might just follow her to the grave one day.
Because three years after that year's Thanksgiving, her Mama killed herself.
With a gentle click, the door closed behind her. Dragged down by her heavy, black coat, she stood still in the dim mudroom. The sense of an empty, silent house was overwhelming. It felt off, the way a dream mimicking reality never feels quite right. But this was real.
She tried taking a step further inside, and then another. Each time was methodic and careful, as if her legs would give out. Through numbness and lost thoughts, she found herself at the edge of the dining room. The curtains were drawn closed, leaving the room in reflective shadows. The familiarity was faint too, echoed in the faded wallpaper, the framed photos.
Hesitantly, she placed her hand on the back of a dining chair, feeling the cool, smooth wood against her skin. A choking sensation arose as her eyes welled with tears. They spilt as she let go of the chair to try and wipe them away. How am I supposed to do this?
It was then that she noticed the light leaking in from the next room. The blinding shards, cast against the dark floor, interrupted her despair. With curious trepidation she followed them into the cozy kitchen, which was illuminated by the brightness beaming in from the window. She saw the golden glow softening the shadows, the gilded highlights sparking on the sink, and the evergreen trees beyond, basking in the daylight.
In an instant, she could hear a faint familiar tune humming from the nearby stereo. Smoke was coming from the stove, and Mama was busy chopping some onions before she lifted her eyes and met hers, letting out a beautiful warm smile.
The smell of lamb stew filled the air, there was also turkey stuffed with herbs dancing in the oven.
"Lunch is almost ready. Why don't you hang your coat outside and come back in, I'd appreciate some help around here once in a while!"
Sophia winked at her while nudging her to leave her coat in the living room. She obliged and walked out.
The living room turned bright and warm, it was the beginning of winter and the fireplace made the room cozier than ever.
A familiar figure was sitting on the armchair across the room facing the fireplace. It was Papa.
"Welcome home, sweet pea. You must be exhausted from all the travel. Come give Papa some sugar and go help Mama with the food. I'm gonna get us more wood for the fire."
She went over almost without any hesitation and bent down to kiss her father on the cheek.
"That stew is making me hungry!" Derril raised his voice for what sounded like a little tease to his wife before cracking up into a hearty laugh.
God, how I missed this, her heart whispered.
She could almost hear Mama calling her into the kitchen before she got distracted by the way the trees swayed as they followed the rhythm to the daylight breeze outside the window.
She was alone once again.
Who would've known.
Thanks for reading Part 10 of the freewrite, this is my first attempt at an ongoing story, let's see where it'll lead us! Today's continuation is a we-write episode. The beginning of the story was written by @zeldacroft. Isn't it amazing? It's like she was co-writing the story with me! And oh, what beautiful description to the scene. I could almost see the characters playing the scene 😭 Find out the link to the previous episode at the beginning of the post. Hope you enjoyed the progression so far :)