Chapter 1
It is another typical overcast day here in my hometown in Pitchfork, Oregon. The sun has never shone since Wednesday, it has been a week now since then, and winter has officially started.
The other kids here in the Foster home I've been living all my life, have been too busy doing outdoor activities—snow-fighting, building a snowman, and doing whatever irksome and irritating thing that they can think of.
It is all still the same every winter—tedious and childish—and now I want nothing of it. I've had my enough shares of all those boring experiences. I've been in on the awkward and silly stages of childhood and adolescence.
It's merely embarrassing to do any more mock-fights and grill-the-marshmallows-near-the-camp-fire thing with the children now that I'm officially turning eighteen 3 days from now.
I am the eldest among all the orphaned (or in my case, abandoned) children here, so I ought to be more responsible than they are.
I sigh and grip my jacket together and huddle more closely against the wall—it is so cold and every breathe I draw seems to be knocked out of me.
Bits of snow are swirling outside my slightly cracked-up window, and it was starting to get dark outside.
I glance towards the overcast sky and see that it's rolling up into huge cumulonimbus clouds. It's a ghastly sight—and absolutely sinister, that I immediately tear my eyes away from it.
"Victoria!" Mother Elena calls, her usually calm and reserved voice sounds hoarse. I wonder if she's been crying again.
I am—and will always be—grateful to the old, yet loving woman who has been so nice to me since I was young. She's the only person I feel affectionate towards.
"Victoria!" she yells again, her voice clearer this time, interrupting my reverie. "Get down here, and please help me serve dinner."
"I'm coming, mother!"
I reminisce a time in my childhood when I took Mother Elena by surprise. Her face had been utterly shocked that it almost seemed to me that she was about to vomit or to pass out.
"Mother Elena?" I asked in a tiny voice. "Why does everyone calls you 'Mother'? I don't think it's possible for you to give birth to more than 30 children and still manage to look young and beautiful as you are."
I felt her become suddenly still; her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. I watched her pale face turn into bright red, then purple and then back to pale again. I remember being vaguely aware of her hands trembling.
Finally she uttered, "Oh dear, I was not quite expecting that." She laughed a nervous laugh and then added, "No one has ever asked me that before, you know?"
"Well…?" I hesitated, tapping my foot impatiently against the wooden floor.
I was about to press for more information, when she added hastily, "Well, I'm supposed to be your 'mother' while you're still under my care. And it would sound truer if all of you call me mother, right? Now let's not talk about that. Why not come with me to the garden? We'll pick out some strawberries and fresh roses for our tables"
I didn't try to ask her for more. Instead, we walked together hand in hand towards the garden.
I blink and break my reverie. So much for being nostalgic, I think.
I immediately slip on my old and tattered brown leather boots and run swiftly down the stairs. A girl named Ashley (who's 9 years old and has been here since she was three) smiles up at me warmly, when I pass by her.
Yeah, I think, kids here consider me as their big sister, as if I've been good enough for them to think of that.
"Hey, Vic I wonder if you can come with us later at 7 out the front lawn. We're going to have some roasted marshmallows and strawberries!" Ashley says, her voice ringing with excitement that I can't help but feel a little guilty on turning down her offer.
"Hello there, Ash. I am so sorry but I can't. Mother Elena wants me to do some chores. You go there and enjoy, okay?" I smile down at her and pat her on the head.
She is such a nice girl and beautiful, too. She has cute little dimples on either side of her face, and her curly, blonde hair is so long and silky—it's like a spun of gold. I feel sorry that I can't stay long enough to witness her grow into something lovely as a golden moth. I'm going to leave this Foster Home as soon as I turn eighteen…
"Are you going to leave us soon enough, Vic?" she asks in a small voice, her blue eyes wide and sad.
I smile warmly at her, feeling a little awkward. I don't feel like talking to anyone about my departure—let alone to a child.
"Ash, sometimes people have to go on their own. It's almost been 18 years, and I have to leave. I have to find if there's something good waiting for me in the future. I have to figure out what to do with my life, to see what my destiny will be like. I would like to find… myself." I pause, not even knowing if she can understand me at all.
Finally she says, "Okay. I guess we'll still see each other in the future, right? When I will be the one to find my destiny, then?"
I smile weakly at her, she is so adorable. "Yes. That's right. Someday you'll have your turn, too. Now, I've got to go." I turn my back on her and swiftly go to the kitchen, spotting Mother Elena near the sink. She looks like she is sagging towards the sink. Is she vomiting? I think. But I immediately push the thought away, since I can't smell anything nasty that indicates the smell of vomit.
"Mother?" I ask.
No answer.
She continues to sag onto the sink, and I suddenly feel nauseated, feeling something bad is about to happen—or has already happen. "What are you doing there, mother?" I ask again, keeping my voice down and calm.
In three long strides, I cross the room towards her. I took a deep breath, hastily tugging her right arm and yanking her backwards, facing me. I heard a choking gasp, and it took me a while to realize that it was me who's making that terrible sound.
I can't move and I can feel the hairs on my back standing. My stomach is twisting into hundreds of different knots and ties with disgust and fear.
Mother Elena's face is crumpled, as if she has been dried out of energy—as if her face was a rose and now it is nothing but a withered flower.
Her lips are chapped, and her eyes are rolled into the back of her head. I can feel that she is not breathing and her body seems suddenly light in my arms. Her skin looks a gruesome gray in color…
"No, no, no!" I panic and set her down on the table in a supine position. In a flash, I am already on the phone dialing 911.
"Hello?" a man with a deep voice is saying, when I suddenly cut him off.
"Help! Please help my mother. I don't think she's… dead yet, but she's not breathing! Please, I need your help." I yell. My chest is heaving and fresh tears are running down my face.
Is she dead? I think. No, that can't be. She was calling me just a while ago!
"V-Victoria? W-what happened here?" The young girl, Ashley, is saying. Her face horrified and she looks like she's going to cry.
"Ash! Please call for help! Hurry… Mother Elena's in danger." She stands still for a while and then her eyes grow wide and she snaps into action.
Ashley is already running towards the back kitchen door, which leads to the courtyard, when we both hear the sound of the ambulance. "The ambulance is here! Go, quick lead them here." I added in a panicked voice.
I wipe the tears running down my face with the back of my hand, smudging soap that I managed to get from somewhere near the sink.
"Get out of the way, kid!" I hear a man shouting, his voice full of unmistakable authority. The ambulance is here, mother. Please, hold on. Please… I keep saying those words in my mind, wishing that Mother can somehow here me.
"Excuse me, but we need to take her to the hospital." The man looks at me with apologetic eyes, his brows are furrowed. I hear him make a tsk-ing sound, as if he's indicating that they're already late. Too late…
"What are you waiting for? Get her now!" The EMT's then are already in the kitchen area, their faces almost grave. They somehow know that this is a lost-cause. My stomach twists into painful knots again… I feel like vomiting. "We're going to do everything that we can. But I can't promise you—"
"I don't care what you do! Just save her!" I can feel my face flaming, my fists clenching and my tears starting anew.
"Dear Victoria… I am so sorry. Just stay calm dear." Mrs. Johnson approaches me then and squeezes my hand. I sob and bury my face against her chest. Mrs. Johnson is also a close friend of Mother Elena, she's helping on running this Foster Home, and so I know how hard this must be for her as well.
"Mrs. Johnson… I-I am s-sorry." I continue to sob, not knowing if this will ever stop. "This i-is my f-fault. I s-should've come while s-she was c-calling m-me…" I can feel my chest building up again, I know I can't take this anymore if I continue to cry like a weakling—I've never cried like this before. No, I don't cry ever. Well this is an exception. The closest thing I've ever had to a family is… dying. But I just can't grieve here when I know that the Foster Home is in danger—or even the whole town.
Taking a deep breath, I wipe the remaining tears from my eyes and cheeks with my hand. I gently push Mrs. Johnson backward and get away from her grasp. "Sorry, Mrs. Johnson, I've got to go now." With an apologetic glance towards her, I run towards my room without a backward glance, shutting the door behind me and locking it.
"You can always mourn later. Vic." I mutter to myself, panting hard. "But now you have a task to do."
I know that what happened to Mother Elena is not something natural, and I know with great certainty that she was killed by someone. Someone with a dark soul, someone who doesn't have a conscience. Someone supernatural, a voice inside my head suggests. I shudder. It can't be true, can it? Well, I have to find out what it is—no matter what. Even if I have to use dark magic too, I will do it, as long as it can put Mother Elena's death to justice.
I clench my eyes shut, knowing that Mother Elena is indeed a lost-cause. There is no denying to the fact that she's already dead. I saw her body, lifeless, withered, dead… I will avenge your murder, mother. I think.
I can do this, I know I can—I have to. If only I'm strong enough. With a sudden fierce determination and adrenaline coursing through my voice, I made a vow that I will do what it takes to make that person, who killed my mother, pay.
It's already running late and I have to rest. I have to keep my body fit for whatever battle I will have to face. With an empty stomach, I go to my bed and force myself to sleep. My stomach growling in protest, but I am not hungry, not anymore.
I have lost my appetite anyway, I think and then drift into a nightmarish sleep.