Eclipse (part 30 of 32)
Back to Part 29The pain wakes me. I hold my belly and feel the scar where I was shot.
It feels hot, a sharp contrast to the cold air of the room. The covers
are gone; I realize that I am sideways at the foot of the bed. I sit up
groggily, shivering in the cold. Even though I managed to sleep a
little, I feel more tired than the day before. Looking for the missing
covers, my eye catches a dark spot in the bed. I crawl over to it.
Blood. The stain is unmistakable; I've seen it too many times in my
life. I feel my chest tighten with fear as I look around the room. All
is quiet except for the hiss of the air conditioning flowing through the
vents. I back quickly away from the stain, feeling my feet hit the lush
carpet as I leave the bed and head towards the bathroom.
I look at myself in the mirror and bring my finger up to my mouth.
There's a small crust of blood that goes down to my chin. I grab a
washrag and gently wash it off. Another spasm of pain shoots across my
stomach and I drop the cloth into the sink. I grip the sides of the sink
till the spasm calms and my breath returns.Wincing, I make my way out of
the bathroom.
Something is wrong, terribly wrong, but I don't know what it is. I go to
find Mireille.
"She's in the bedroom on the left." Henry nods his head. He's in his
sweats and sock feet, padding around the living room like a large dog.
"I've called down for breakfast already."
"Thank you." I mumble, holding my stomach.
"Kirika- should I call a doctor? You don't look well at all this
morning." He adjusts the pillows on the sofa and sits down, patting the
cushion next to him. "Want to talk?"
"No." I stumble past him. "I want Mireille."
She's still asleep; I watch her chest lightly rise and fall. She looks
so peaceful- I want to touch her, to take some of that peace into my
heart. I run my hand softly along the side of her face. Her lips part a
little, but her eyes remain closed. My gaze wanders to the nightstand. I
see the pictures on top of the letter. I look at her quickly and take my
hand away from her, picking up the top photo.
I gasp out loud. It's Mireille- a much younger, happier Mireille.
Wearing a cream colored dress that compliments her hair. Smiling, in the
arms of a man that although then much younger, has features that are
unmistakable.
"Droger." I shakily turn the picture over.
Dumond and Mireille. The handwriting is delicate. Was it written by her
mother?
"Age four." I whisper, reading the last of the writing. I flip the
picture over again, staring in disbelief. Surrounded by a garden morning
glories, the two of them look so happy- Mireille has her hand to his
lips, gazing up at him; and he's pursed his lips as if kissing her hand,
returning her gaze.
"I adored him, once." Her voice makes me jump and I drop the picture. I
lean over to get it but her arm shoots out, blocking me.
"Don't touch it again." Her voice is a warning. "Those pictures don't
belong to you."
I step back more as she swings her legs over the bed, bending over to
scoop the picture up off the floor. She gently gathers up the pictures
and letter. Hugging them to her chest, she walks over to the window. She
looks outside for a moment, then sighs.
"Kirika, I don't know how to tell this to you." Her voice sounds
uncertain. "Or perhaps I shouldn't tell you at all." She stares silently
out the window for another moment. I hear her take a deep breath.
"I am the godchild of Dumond Droger."
Onwards to Part 31
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