Chapter Three

"The story of what?" Bowie asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow as she watched Sarah stare at the box in wonder.

"The labyrinth." She sat down on the couch, pat the seat next to her, and Bowie sat down. Her grandmother took one of her hands gently and held it, all while looking at the box. "Years ago, when I was just a teenage girl, and still stuck in my own fantasy world, I summoned the Goblin King."

"The Goblin what?" Bowie began to wonder if her grandmother really had lost her mind. As she did, however, was 'tsk' and shake her finger at her young granddaughter.

"I know that look - that look of disbelief. But I tell you, I do, that it's more than true that I wished my baby brother away and the goblins came and took him."

"You mean . . . Toby?" Bowie asked, and kept the skeptical look in her eyes as she continued to listen to her grandmother's tale.

"Yes. It was, of course, before I began to like him. But what happened is that one night, while I was watching him, I wished him away and he was taken by the Goblin King. He was a strange man. Cruel - he threw a snake at me."

"What?"

"He did. And I begged him for my brother back, and he told me as long as I made it through his labyrinth, I could get him back."

"Okay, grandma. I think it's time for bed." Bowie let out a small laugh, but her grandmother kept the same serious gaze on her. She stopped immediately and her eyes narrowed. "Okay, so why am I just now hearing this story?"

"I kept it hidden, because I didn't want to think about it. Then you brought down the box and I remembered everything. The labyrinth, the friends I made, how I defeated the King himself . . ."

"Curious," Bowie mumbled, leaning her chin on her balled hands.

"It is. And sweetie, you know that I have never lied to you. I'm not lying now." Bowie went silent, thinking and trying to recall at least one instance when she had lied. She couldn't think of any.

"Alright." Bowie checked the time on her phone, and then tucked it into her pocket. "It's getting late. I should probably head home - will you be alright?"

"Of course." Bowie nodded and stood up, but jumped as her grandmother grabbed her wrist with one hand. "Oh, and Victoria?"

"Yes?" Her grandmother opened the flaps of the box, and pulled out a red book bound in leather with old, faded golden lettering reading 'The Labyrinth' on the cover.

"I want you to have this," she said, placing the book in her hands. Bowie felt the cover carefully, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something more. She never uttered a work, and instead tucked the book into her purse in the hallway.

"Thank you," Bowie said, picking up her purse and the metal tray of food. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, sweetie. I love you."

"I love you, too." Bowie sent her grandmother one more smile before leaving the house, entering the cold winter air and dreading the drive over the slick ice on the road once again. She set her purse in the passenger's seat of the car, then turned it on before driving back to her home. While driving, she thought of her mother.

She hadn't seen her mother in years - no matter how much Bowie missed her, she tried not to think of her too much. Besides, Bowie knew, it was her choice to leave her to be raised by her father as a child, and then later by her grandmother and grandfather as a teenager. But on this night, she couldn't help but think of the woman who gave her life.

Bowie had pressed her father for answers about her mother, and he tended to be rather pressed about it - he didn't like to talk about her, as if it was too difficult. But one day, he told her a few different things about her.

She had been a recovering alcoholic when they met - they met at the local grocery store when both were buying fruit, and instantly clicked. After Bowie had been born, though, her mother began drinking again - and this time, it was worse than the last time. One day, after she had gotten particularly drunk, she had tried to give Bowie a bath when she was a baby and nearly drowned her before her father found them. After that, she left. Bowie's parents split, and it was simply left at that.

Bowie always thought that it had been her to cause their split, that she was the cause for her mother's problems - she had never told her father so, but it was how she felt and always had since she knew the truth. Recalling the sleepless nights she had laid in bed wondering what would have happened to her mother if she had not been born was enough to make a tear fall down Bowie's cheek.

Tears eventually began to flow freely down her cheeks, blurring her vision enough to make her stop and pull over. Her knuckles turned white from the grip she held on the steering wheel, the sobs making her chest heave up and down quickly before she rested her head against her knuckles.

"It's all my fault . . ." she whispered quietly, and then glanced up to dig around in her purse. Her hands searched the soft interior, bumping into things before grasping a cylindrical bottle and lifting it out - Bowie's anxiety medication.

She shakily opened the bottle, grabbing one of fairly large blue pills and swallowing it dry. She took a deep, calming breath before leaning back against her seat with tears still falling down her cheeks. She glanced over at her purse again, at the book looking at her from the interior. She made to reach for it, but stopped as she realized she needed to get home.

As she switched into drive, Bowie glanced up at the road and spotted something she had never seen in the area before. Since there was snow all around the area, it was difficult to see the white owl with a heart-shaped face sitting on one of the tree branches hanging above the road, its eyes trailed right on her. Bowie hit the brakes to stop and stare at the owl, letting out a deep breath as she watched it. They kept eye contact for close to five seconds before the owl lifted its wings, soaring away into the night sky.