A/N: Cleopatra Selene is a real historical figure, daughter of the more-famous Cleopatra and Marc Antony.


Diana could smell Amberton before she saw it. Witherly Lake always reeked of a mixture of sludge, algae, and dead fish, which became far more wide-spreading and oppressive during the hot summer months, and the open windows of the bus let in the full force of the odor. Home sweet home, she thought glumly. After passing the lake, it would be another eight minutes or so before the bus stopped at the drop-off area, and parents would arrive to pick up their children. The thought made Diana's stomach churn. Maybe she could stealthily slip away before any parent tries to "make conversation" with her mum. Maybe the bus would get into a freak accident and Diana would die horribly and not have to worry about the drop-off at all.

But alas, the bus turned safely into the parking lot and wheezed to a stop. Diana reluctantly gathered her belongings and followed Claire as she moved out of the seat. Exiting the bus, the girls were greeted by a swarm of smiling parents, eager to reunite with their children after a long week of separation.

Mrs. Zhang—always looking classy and composed—arrived first to pick up Olivia, greeting the girls with a warm smile and saying that she'd love to take them shopping before school started back up. Diana smiled weakly and agreed that it sounded fun, though she knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell she would be able to afford any of the outfits at the stores Mrs. Zhang shopped at.

Mrs. Turner arrived second, smothering a protesting Becky in a hug. She also hugged Diana and Claire and promised the girls she'd try out one of her new recipes the next time they came over, before dragging an embarrassed Becky back to the car.

By this point, the families were trickling out of the parking lot, leaving about half the campers left. Diana was initially relieved there were less people, but as the minutes ticked by, she started to feel the familiar twinge of worry and disappointment for what she knew was going to eventually happen.

Mrs. Roberts arrived third, upbeat and energetic as usual. She launched into a story about how there was a big drug bust which closed off a bunch of streets, which is why she arrived late. Scanning the rest of the parents with a slight frown, she turned to Diana. "Your mum coming today, Di?"

Diana knew Mrs. Roberts didn't mean for it to come across as condescending, but Diana bristled anyway. "Yes, she told me last week she'll be late because she was going out of town to sell one of her paintings in the afternoon."

It was a complete lie, and Diana suspected Mrs. Roberts knew, because she said, "It's no bother driving you home. You have that spare key in your rucksack, yeah?"

"She'll come," insisted Diana, voice a bit more forceful than necessary. Mrs. Roberts nodded tentatively and Claire waved Diana good-bye with a slightly worried look. As they were leaving, Diana noticed Mrs. Roberts talking with Ms. Layla, and gesturing in her direction. Hurry up, Mum…

Eventually, all the girls and parents filtered out, and it was only down to Diana and the camp counselors.

"Are you sure your mother knows the correct time?" asked Ms. Layla kindly.

Diana made sure to circle the date in marker on the calendar, as well as taping notes with the date on both the bathroom mirror and Mum's bedroom door. "Yeah."

"Perhaps your grandmother can pick you up instead?"

"She's out of town today, visiting a friend. She won't be back until tomorrow night."

"Ah, I see."

There was silence. Ms. Layla's expression was neutral, but the other counselors' expressions reflected a mix of pity for Diana and frustration with Ms. White.

I never should have come on this fucking trip. The elation she felt earlier in the day depleted completely, only to be replaced with mortification and anger. Of course Mum would flake out; why did Diana ever expect anything otherwise? Hadn't she learned enough?

The counselors continued to wait as the minutes trickled by. They tried to make conversation with Diana, who clammed up and would only give short responses, afraid that saying anymore would cause her to start crying, and wouldn't that be the cherry on top of the shit sundae?

Diana saw Ms. Janet huddled with Ms. Layla over to the side, and strained to hear. "Layla, we can't keep waiting here. It's been over an hour at this point. My son's with a babysitter and I need to get home."

"I know. I'll stay here, don't worry."

"No, you shouldn't have to do that. We should call the police. This isn't the first time—"

Diana's eavesdropping was interrupted by another counselor who offered her some trail mix to eat. Twenty more minutes passed, and eventually the counselors too started leaving, until it was only Diana and Ms. Layla.

"So, Diana, did you enjoy the trip? Before we took the bus, of course," Ms. Layla asked.

Diana didn't want conversation; she wanted to tie weights to her feet and jump into Witherly Lake.

"Yes," she replied stiffly, hoping Ms. Layla would get the hint. The counselor plowed ahead.

"Your discovery of the cave was really something else. There might even be some people calling your house, asking to interview you!"

Mentioning the cave caused another ripple of irritation. "I don't want anyone to interview me. I hate it when I get put in the spotlight. And I didn't even do anything! I just stood there like an idiot and it popped up. Anyone could have done it. "

Diana knew she was being unnecessarily rude and cranky, but in the moment she didn't care as uncharitable thoughts about her mother kept flooding her mind.

Ms. Layla looked at her with a soft expression. "You're being too hard on yourself. I saw firsthand how much effort and research you put into finding the cave's location. Far more than the rest of your patrol, that's for sure."

Diana just shrugged. Layla waited another few seconds, then continued. "Sometimes, attention can be a good thing." Diana couldn't help but give a derisive snort. "You disagree?"

"It might be okay for other people, but not for me."

"Why?"

Something inside Diana broke. With the letter and her mum's lack of appearance, the emotions came to a boiling point and she snapped, "It's no secret! My mum's completely off her rocker. She's a grown woman who thinks magic is real and can't even do simple things like picking up her kid. Everyone in Amberton knows about looney Sarah White. If they do an article, I'm sure it'll be mentioned somewhere."

"Diana, you're not your mother. You're not your father, either, and people know that."

Diana stared at Ms. Layla, eyes wide and mouth agape at the counselor's boldness; was Ms. Layla even allowed to mention Diana's father? It felt like some kind of professional line was being crossed. The usually-composed Ms. Layla actually looked a bit unsettled and quickly rushed ahead to explain: "You're carrying this massive weight on your shoulders and pushing yourself so much, but you don't need to. What you need is to love yourself and have confidence. I wish you could see the girl I see."

Diana felt many conflicting emotions at that moment, but the most prominent was gratitude towards Ms. Layla. Even though what she says isn't true. So because of this gratefulness, she felt like smacking herself when a snarky comment escaped and she grumbled, "I wish you could have seen that I didn't want to make that speech in front of everyone."

Diana was relieved when Ms. Layla laughed. "Ok, I suppose I deserved that. But in my defense, I had your best intentions in mind. Speaking publicly and drawing attention to yourself is simply a part of life. Like it or not, you are going to have to do it as you get older. And if you can overcome this obstacle, I truly believe that you could be a great leader one day."

"You sound like Samantha," Diana said quietly. Has it really been only a few hours since their conversation at camp?

"Samantha is one of our most perceptive Guides. I saw how you tried to make peace with her at breakfast. Your drive, determination, and compassion are traits I admire in you. And they're your traits. Not your parents', yours."

A rush of affection ran through Diana as she smiled. She opened her mouth to speak, but at that point, a car—no doubt breaking the speed limit—rapidly turned into the parking lot and screeched to a halt in front of the pair. All warm feelings suddenly turned ice cold. A woman with disheveled black hair and bags under her eyes hastily pushed the door open and rushed towards Diana. She smothered Diana in a hug, which her daughter did not return.

"Baby, I'm so sorry! I-I don't know what happened. I was feeling tired so I took a nap, and I swear I set the alarm clock, except it didn't ring and when I woke up and checked it it says I never set it, so I don't know what happened, and then when I started driving all these roads were closed and—"

"It's fine. Let's go," Diana mumbled. She broke free from the hug and quickly headed into the car without looking her mother in the eyes. She sat inside stewing in her anger and the heat (the AC broke weeks ago, but they couldn't afford to fix it) while Sarah White and Ms. Layla talked. She groaned in frustration as she looked at the empty pill bottle on the ground. Damn it, Mum. Sarah returned back to the car, frazzled, and turned on the ignition. Diana turned around and waved at Ms. Layla, who waved back with a sad yet compassionate expression on her face. She kept waving until Ms. Layla was out of sight. Then, it was just her, her mum, and a heavy silence.

"I really am sorry," Sarah said miserably, and Diana believed her.

"It's fine," Diana muttered again. It wasn't.

Sarah, evidently, agreed. "No, no it's not. I told your grandma it was fine. I told her that she could go on that trip to see the Baileys, and I could handle it. But clearly, I couldn't." She sniffed, and Diana clenched her fists.

"Didn't you see my notes?"

"I-I did, Baby! I did. I purposely didn't plan anything else today. I didn't want to risk forgetting. But then, well, one of my headaches started—you know how painful they could be—-and I took some pills, and then I just wanted to rest for a little bit. I thought I set the alarm clock, I really did." She smacked the steering wheel forcefully. "Damn those arseholes!"

Diana didn't need to ask who "those arseholes" referred to, and she wasn't going to entertain her mother's delusions tonight. "What were you and Ms. Layla talking about outside?"

Her grip on the wheel loosened a bit. "We talked about…different things." She appeared to perk up a bit. "She also mentioned you discovered a cave that everyone thought vanished. That's amazing, Sweetheart! How did you find it?"

"I'm really not in the mood to talk about it right now," Diana replied tersely.

"Oh," Sarah replied quietly. They drove another minute in silence. Then, Sarah meekly added, "She's a nice woman."

"Yeah, she is. Reliable, dependable."

Sarah frowned, her voice getting an edge to it. "I said I was sorry. Are you going to keep—"

Something inside Diana snapped as all her emotions boiled up to the surface. "I was waiting three hours, Mum! Do you realize how embarrassing that is?!"

"I– can't help it! They messed with my head! You know this! If there was a way to make everything normal again, I would!"

Stark raving mad, I swear. "Were you writing in that stupid book again? You always get worse whenever you look at it."

Sarah's eyes hardened. "It's not stupid. It's the only way people like us—normal people—ever have a chance of getting justice. I need to write down things as I remember them, otherwise I'll forget again."

"And what's the track record for that? How many 'victims' have been 'gotten justice,' hmm?" Diana knew she was being bratty and needlessly provocative, but her anger at her mother and situation in general overrode her logic or empathy. So much for that compassion Ms. Layla talked about…

"It—I'm getting closer, I promise. There was a flick playing on the telly earlier today—'The Haunting'—and, and the house in it reminded me of that house—you know the one—and one memory led to another and I was overloaded with all these thoughts and I just had to write everything down before it slipped out of my mind. And I know that's what probably caused my headache, but I think it was worth it because I remembered a name—Caroline—and I could do research and see if there were any missing or murdered girls with that name in 1980 and—"

Diana tuned out for the rest of the car ride. She didn't trust herself to speak without screaming or saying something she would truly regret. I need to talk to Grandma.

Grandma—Marie White—was Diana's safe harbor in a sea of insanity. She always had been ever since Sarah had her first breakdown all those years ago. When she was with Grandma, she could pretend to be a normal child instead of one who first learned what rape and torture were when the hardest concept most children her age had to grapple with was how to write in complete sentences. When she was with Grandma, she could pretend to be a normal child who wasn't constantly paranoid and on edge whenever she saw a male stranger due to her mother's stories. When she was with Grandma, she could pretend to be a normal child with normal worries instead of being forced to act like some kind of living diary for a grown woman. She didn't have to constantly be exposed to age-inappropriate concepts the way she was with Sarah. She could just be normal.

"'—of course, when I call the stations I need to be as vague as possible. I'm positive that the magic users must be closely monitoring our communications. For all I know, they already infiltrated the police—-which is probably why they didn't believe me—and I can't imagine they haven't done the same with the government. I think—"

"You realize they'll probably take me away from you again, right?" Diana asked bluntly.

" 'They'?" Sarah hesitated. "The wizard government? Do you think your f-fa—um, has anyone contacted you?"

The thought of the letter immediately sprang to mind, but Diana pushed it aside. "I'm not talking about wizards, Mum. I'm talking about the real government. Our government. Remember when I was eight and they said you couldn't be my mum anymore because you kept having these crazy breakdowns and yelled and attacked me—"

Sarah's face paled as she clutched the steering wheel tighter. "God as my witness, I never meant to—I, I just….my mind was all jumbled. I'm so sorry! I'm better now, I promise. It'll never happen again."

Diana ignored her. She remembered her mum sobbing, screaming that Diana's father was evil and that she thought Diana might be evil too. She remembered the scratches and the hits. She remembered being locked in a closet and wondering if she'd ever be allowed out. She remembered how, during the day after a breakdown happened, her mum would always be genuinely shocked that Diana was injured and then start weeping when she was told she was the cause, or go about the day as normal, not noticing and remaining blissfully ignorant that Diana was in her own personal hell less than 24 hours ago.

Unlike her mother, Diana White doesn't forget.

"And all the times you'd forget to pick me up, or forget to turn off the gas, or forget to give me breakfast or dinner, or pack my lunch? They said you were an unfit mother for a reason. Instead of focusing on what's actually happening to me, you're wrapped up in these magical conspiracy theories. Do you want them to take me away?" Would you even care?

Tears started to trickle down Sarah's cheeks at this point, which only made Diana angrier. However, her anger diluted a little when Sarah asked softly, "No, I don't want that to happen. But what about you? Do you want to be taken from me?"

"I don't know," Diana answered honestly.

By this point, the mother and daughter reached their house (shack)—still looking as run-down as Diana remembered it—and were sitting motionless in the driveway, each waiting for the other to speak first.

Sarah was the one who broke the silence. "Th-the courts said it was ok for us to live together again. I have medication and I'm talking to someone about these things, and Grandma's living with us. Things are better than they were a few years ago, I think."

"Yeah…" Diana agreed. "I just…I just don't want it to go back to how it was. It's been a long time since you've forgotten anything this important. It's a little scary."

Sarah unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over to Diana, giving her a tight hug. Diana hesitated for a moment, then returned it. "I don't want it to go back to the way things were either. I love you, Diana. I-if I ever said anything differently, i-it was because I wasn't myself. T-they rewired my brain and I don't handle feelings the same way I used to. You mean so much to me, and I want you to always know that."

Diana wasn't sure how much of that was true, but wanted to believe it—at least what her mum said about loving her. "I love you too," she said truthfully.

Sarah smiled and squeezed her hand before opening the car door. Grabbing her rucksack, Diana followed her mother inside her house. The loud rattling of the mounted wall fans greeted her. As per usual, 6 Ironwood Lane looked like a disjointed mess, with clutter scattered about and objects tossed around haphazardly. There was a mess of random ingredients on the kitchen table. Apparently, her mother had attempted to start cooking something earlier, though Diana couldn't imagine what food would result from the combination on the table. Some of Sarah's earliest paintings—cheerful, bright ones—were hanging up on the walls. An easel and canvas were set up, and Diana hoped whatever she painted she would be able to sell for a good price. She wanted to be able to see Samantha at one of the events again soon.

Sarah picked up the TV Guide from the table and handed it to her daughter. "Let's watch something later tonight. Your pick! I'll make us popcorn."

Diana smiled and flipped through the pages, trying to find something fun. The Wizard of Oz was on, but there was no way in hell Diana would put on anything with wizards or witches in the presence of Sarah White. Alice in Wonderland? Sarah sometimes didn't react well to bizarre images. Raiders of the Lost Ark? Return of the Jedi? Those both involve women in peril, which sometimes Sarah didn't react well to (despite the heroines' persistence and triumph), so that was out. They Live? No doubt Sarah would see parallels with the film's storyline of how only certain people can see "the truth" and her own worldview, so that was out too. Supergirl? That seems innocent enou—wait, Kara beats up those two truckers who try to rape her. Never mind.

Diana mentally sighed in frustration as she kept flipping through pages. It irritated her sometimes, the things she had to consider when doing something as simple as watching television with her mother. In the end, she chose a nature documentary about baby birds, which didn't seem the most exciting, but Diana did like animals, and it was the best of the possible options.

"You could never go wrong with animals, especially baby ones," Sarah said with a smile. She heated up a frozen pizza in the microwave and the two of them sat around the table, chatting. Diana happily told Sarah about her experiences at camp. Sarah was a good audience, laughing and gasping and asking questions during the appropriate moments. In the midst of telling her mother how she made the map, Diana's gaze drifted to the counter, where she saw a stack of letters, unopened. Her heart started to beat more quickly.

While part of her knew she was being needlessly paranoid, the other part whispered frantic what-ifs. Attempting to act casual, Diana asked mother if the post came for today.

Sarah blinked, surprised at the abrupt change in topic. "Of course, Honey. It's Saturday. I didn't go through them though. Are you expecting a letter?"

Ohmygodwhatiftheysentitheretoo. "Y-yes. I'm finished eating, so I was going to look through the pile before heading upstairs and unpacking."

"Oh." Sarah looked surprised, and bit her lip. "I thought we could maybe talk a bit more first…I really want to hear about you getting the award."

Normally Diana would stay, but the anxiety and dread of a letter from a magic school being within six feet of her mother overwhelmed her. "T-there's not really much to tell. I could go over it when we're watching the documentary later."

"Ok, that's fine, Sweetie," Sarah said, gaze drifted downward at her pizza. Diana felt a bit guilty, but made her way to the counter and grabbed the stack of letters, hands shaking slightly.

Bill, bill, Jehovah's Witness pamphlet, bill, flyer for the summer carnival, bill, and—

There was a handwritten letter with no return address and a seal with a Latin inscription (It actually looks kinda similar to—-NOPE. Stop. Don't think about it any more) with an "M" on the back. Unlike the letter from camp, however, Diana knew who sent this one and felt relief sweep over her.

There was no letter congratulating her on her acceptance into magic school. Thank God. She was a bit annoyed that the thought even crossed her mind; it would have been impossible (or extremely implausible, at least) for someone to leave a letter at both Cabin 7 and 6 Ironwood Lane on the same day. The person who wrote it wanted to get under my skin, and they've been successful, unfortunately. If this keeps up, I'm going to be crazy as Mum one day.

Clutching the letter in her hand like a precious piece of gold, she grabbed her rucksack and headed up the stairs to her room to open it. Her room looked exactly like she left it—slightly sloppy, but more organized than downstairs. It had a white carpet and light pink walls, and books and stuffed animals were strewn about on the desk, nightstand, and bookshelves. Diana saw with relief that Sarah had remembered to water the pot of Devil's Ivy on her desk.

Knowing who the letter was from, she pulled a dictionary from the bookshelf (she knew she was going to need it), plopped herself on the bed, and opened the letter and began to read.

My dear D.W,

It pleases me to hear that you found the book edifying. Understanding the past is often key to understanding the future and—perhaps—even our present. Many times I've wished that my grandson possessed your innate sense of curiosity and desire for self-improvement, but alas, my wishes seem to be in vain.

In regards to your question about Cleopatra Selene, I can only wager that she believed it would be more advantageous to go along with Octavian's wishes than to face the alternative. While it would be certainly understandable for her to retaliate against the man responsible for the death of her parents and attempt to claim her throne, Cleopatra Selene likely knew that the resources simply weren't there for a successful rebellion. The power of the Roman Empire at that time was unmatched, and any attempted coup would have been doomed for failure. Given the legendary cunning of her parents, it is not surprising that she would choose the option that would give her the most benefit in the long run as opposed to a temporary sense of self-righteousness.

The princess lived for several years in the household of Octavian's family, and while I'm sure there was severe resentment, I also find it likely that she learned from her hosts. One does not need to have a favorable impression of the teacher in order to learn valuable lessons. And sure enough, when she married Juba II, she brought the Mauretanian kingdom to greatness and ensured her mother's legacy would not be forgotten by incorporating Egyptian influence into the kingdom's architecture. Cleopatra Selene was never broken—despite Octavian's beliefs—and always remembered her birthright and mother's legacy. The choices throughout her life ensured that she was not known to history as the martyred daughter of Cleopatra and Marc Antony, but instead is recognized as a powerful, influential queen in her own right.

I imagine your summer will be quite eventful and leave you with less leisure time than expected. However, if you find yourself with a thirst for additional reading material over the next few days, I recommend looking into the House of Tudor—Queen Elizabeth I, in particular. Much like Cleopatra Selene, her survival depended on the man responsible for the death and diminished reputation of her mother. And just as with the Ptolemaic princess, Elizabeth thrived in spite of her circumstances.

(As a side note, one of my forefathers was supposedly an unsuccessful aspirant to the hand of Queen Elizabeth I. How different would the world be if he were triumphant, I wonder?)

As is customary in our exchanges, I've enclosed your previous letter within this envelope, along with my grammatical corrections. Be mindful of sentence fragments and run-ons. I look forward to speaking with you soon.

Yours sincerely,

A.M

Sure enough, Diana's previous letter was also in the envelope, along with several red markings indicating the aforementioned grammatical errors. Ah yes, the mysterious A.M.

Diana originally came in contact with A.M shortly before school let out for the summer. One of the Girl Guides' activities for community outreach involved acting as a penpal to elderly individuals from across the county, something that Ms. Layla organized. For the sake of privacy, both parties were referred to only by their initials. Originally, Ms. Layla acted as an intermediary, with her giving Diana A.M's letters and her presumably giving A.M Diana's letters, but after the school year ended, the letters started arriving at Diana's house directly. She wasn't sure why the change happened, but wasn't particularly bothered by it, even though she still didn't know A.M's address and continued sending her letters to Ms. Layla.

A.M's letters often seemed as if they were directed at another adult instead of an eleven-year old child and seemed—in Diana's opinion—a bit pretentious, but Diana learned a lot from him. Grammar, vocabulary, history, mythology, philosophy—the man seemed to have many areas of expertise, and Diana enjoyed having him as a penpal. He would always recommend certain topics and books to look into (the most recent involving Egypt and the Roman Empire), and gave (admittedly sometimes questionable) advice.

He always had a lot to say—sometimes too much—and Diana was curious, so one time she did ask Ms. Layla if she could have more information about who he really was. Ms. Layla seemed a bit confused and under the impression that Diana was paired up with a different person entirely, which Diana assumed was just a way to keep the mystery and privacy intact. Ms. Layla didn't seem to hear or acknowledge that she ever acted as an intermediary to send letters to A.M or receive them from him.

In other circumstances it would be creepy, but A.M gave her no reason to believe he had any ill intentions. Not like the writer of the other letter she received at camp.

After unpacking and showering, Diana threw on her nightgown and headed downstairs and over to the television, where she saw that her mother followed through with her promise to make popcorn. Between bites of popcorn, she finished telling Sarah about her trip at camp—minus the letter, of course—which Sarah seemed to enjoy.

They spent a lot of time fawning over the cute little birds that showed up in the documentary. It was a nice experience, and reminded Diana of when she was really young, back when Sarah White would still speak of Diana's father in a reverent, loving tone.

That all changed, Diana remembered with some discomfort, when the two of them were sitting together on the sofa watching television, just like they were now. Diana was only five, and Sarah wanted her daughter to enjoy the historical moment of watching the Challenger space shuttle launch. Jubilation turned to horror as they saw the shuttle explode, and Sarah quickly scrambled to turn it off, though Diana didn't fully understand what was happening at the time. Sarah acted normal for the rest of the day, but later at night, when she was washing dishes, she had her first breakdown. Diana always wondered if seeing death in real-time triggered something in her, some memories long repressed, or if it was simply coincidence. Either way, nothing was ever the same since then.

"—the cuckoo is a brood parasite that lays its eggs in nests of other birds, such as the Eurasian reed warbler. The cuckoo egg has evolved to imitate the host's eggs, and the host bird often remains unaware of the irregularity of the egg. Once hatched, the cuckoo chick pushes the biological offspring of the host out of the nest, allowing for the host to divert all its energies to feeding and nurturing the cuckoo chick. This relationship continues until the cuckoo is able to leave the nest and support itself without assistance from the host mother."

"That's horrible," Diana muttered as she watched the warbler, tiny and sleek, feed the gigantic cuckoo chick that looked like it was five times the warbler's size. It looked and felt perverse and wrong. "The cuckoo just leaves its egg for some other bird to raise. And doesn't the mother bird realize there's something wrong with the chick? I mean, look at the size of it!"

"Maybe she does realize there's something wrong, but can't do anything about it," Sarah said quietly, looking at the birds with a clouded expression on her face. "She grows up thinking the child is going to be like her, but it turns out to be like its other parent. She already lost everything. Maybe she figures she has no choice but to continue raising it."

Sarah's voice was very flat and even, and Diana started to get goosebumps.

"Or m-maybe she genuinely grows to love the cuckoo as her own, even though it's different?" Diana suggested meekly.

Sarah turned to her and smiled sadly. "Yes, I'm sure that's definitely part of it, too."

Diana wasn't sure if they were even talking about the bird anymore. She was about to get up and say something, but Sarah leaned over and kissed Diana on the forehead softly, before gently squeezing her hand.

They continued watching hand-in-hand until the narrator started talking about how Kingfisher fathers would help build the nest and help incubate and feed their offspring. It was then that Diana asked the question that's been on her mind since the cuckoo bird segment: "Mum, does my dad know that I exist?"

Sarah immediately withdrew her hand. Diana's father was one of the topics that they never, ever discussed when Sarah was in her right mind, not since the day of the Challenger launch. She knew she was playing with fire by even mentioning him, but damn it, she wanted to know.

"Why are you asking?" Sarah kept looking at the screen of the television, though her hands were now clutching the blanket on the sofa.

"I just hate having a deadbeat for a father. I mean, look!" Diana pointed to the telly. The narrator was now showing how male Robins help feed their offspring and protect the nest. "Even these birds do a better job than him. I know what you say about him, and I believe you when you say that he's a bad person, but is it wrong to just….wish that things were different?"

"N-no, of course not," said Sarah, shifting her sad gaze to Diana. "It's normal to feel that way. And it…it means a lot to me, to hear you say that you believe me about that. The police, everyone else—except Grandma—they all think I'm lying or delusional."

Diana didn't overlook how Sarah avoided answering her first question. "Does he know about me, Mum?"

Sarah's eyes shifted downward. "No, he doesn't. He's not purposely trying to avoid you, Sweetie. But it's better this way." She didn't elaborate.

There was a pause, and then Diana said, "You know, the first few years of my life I had this perfect image in my head of what he was like. You used to say such wonderful things about him, but then one day everything changed and you started saying the opposite. Now my feelings are just all over the place. I don't know if he's good or bad." I don't know if I'm good or bad.

"Oh, Diana," Sarah whispered, and grabbed her into a hug again. They sat there for a minute in silence, before Sarah continued to whisper softly. "I'm so sorry. Your father, he…he made my feelings go all over the place, too. Even before I…returned home, I thought, well…." She trailed off a bit before beginning to ramble, just like how her daughter sometimes did when she was nervous. "There was this woman in America named Mary McElroy and there was also a bank robbery in Stockholm—that's a city in Sweden—and, and what happened to me was a bit like that. And, well, I w-wish the memories I had when you were born were the full truth. I really do. But I didn't have the full context, and what actually happened, it—it was awful. It's not fair that you have to go through this. It's not fair that I have to go through this, with the mixed up memories. It's their fault, not ours."

Sarah didn't say who "they" referred to, but Diana knew who she meant, and it was a reminder that she had to take everything Sarah said with a massive grain of salt. Still, Diana couldn't help but say, "I get jealous of Claire, Becky, and Olivia sometimes. I wish I had regular parents. Parents who…you know, treat each other kindly, love each other, and get married, like in the films and books."

Sarah's eyes started to well with tears and Diana felt like shit for bringing it up. "I-I wish the same thing."

Diana leaned on her mum's shoulder and asked, "Could you tell me more about Granddad? Grandma always talks about how wonderful he was, even now."

Sarah's eyes lit up as she started telling Diana about her own father—Alan White—who died of cancer before Diana was born. Diana listened attentively, bird documentary completely forgotten, and felt the mix of fondness and yearning she always did whenever her granddad was mentioned. Sarah told Diana how he'd take her to the park to feed the birds, how he'd once saved her from drowning in the ocean, how he would always make the best Shepherd's Pie. Diana heard most of those stories before, but it was always nice hearing Sarah talk enthusiastically about a positive topic.

Listening, Diana couldn't help but feel a bit envious at how comfortable and knowledgeable Sarah was. Diana knew very little about her own father, and the information she did know was often contradictory and tentatively accurate at best, given Sarah's erratic memory. She knew his name: Lucius Malfoy. She knew he was apparently rich, and that—according to Sarah—-he kept her hidden away in some kind of seaside manor to be used as a servant for powerful people along with some other girls.

From the name, Lucius, being reminiscent of Lucifer, to this whole cabal of powerful rich folk who enslave perceived "inferiors" without the authorities knowing, to an escape and pregnancy that came from it, the whole whole story—even even without the magical elements—seemed like something pulled straight from a Hollywood summer flick. Diana didn't fully blame the authorities for not believing Sarah; she had no proof that any of this happened, after all, and it certainly sounded ridiculous. But looking into Sarah's eyes, it was hard to deny that she thought it happened, at least.

Diana's grandmother believed Sarah's story to a certain extent. She was furious with how the police treated her daughter, and believed that Sarah was abducted—"by those goddamn Satanists," Grandma said with conviction—and given a copious amount of drugs, which was what caused the memory issues. The name "Lucius Malfoy"—-the only perpetrator that Sarah could name clearly—-was investigated, and the only thing the police could find was that there was a "Septimus Malfoy" is the past who purchased a bunch of land in the eighteenth century. After driving out to investigate the land and researching possible descendants, the police concluded that there were just empty stretches of land, and there were no other Malfoys that they could find. Questions about who owned the land currently were met with vacant expressions and vague stammerings. Marie White even drove out to Wiltshire to see if the police were bullshitting her, but apparently she wasn't able to see anything there either.

But just because they didn't see anything, that doesn't mean there wasn't anything there, a dark voice inside Diana whispered. After all, didn't Diana see something that everyone else was able to ignore for decades?

But Diana pushed that thought to the back of her head. After the documentary was long over and the mother and daughter had exhausted their conversation, Diana headed up to bed. She turned off the lights and snuggled under the covers, but couldn't sleep, mind racing, as it often did, on days that were highly eventful. After an hour of staring at the ceiling and willing herself to fall asleep, Diana got out of her bed and quietly tiptoed to the kitchen for a glass of water.

As she was heading back to her room, she saw the lights in her mother's room were on. Diana peeked her head in and saw her mother sitting on the ground, clutching a piece of fabric in her hands.

"Mum?" Diana asked hesitantly.

Sarah spun around, startled. Diana could see now that she was holding her white sundress with a flowered pattern that she used to wear all the time. Out of all her outfits, it was Diana's favorite, though she hasn't worn it since the day the Challenger exploded.

"Y-yes, Honey? Is anything wrong?"

"No, I was just thirsty." Sarah didn't look like she had been crying, but her expression looked somewhat…hollow. Empty, even. "Are you ok? I came in because I saw the light was on."

"I'm fine, don't worry about me," Sarah said, forcing a smile. "You should go to bed, especially since you had such a big day today."

"Alright," Diana said, but as she turned her back, Sarah called after her.

"Sweetie?"

"Yes?" Diana yawned.

"I love you."

Diana turned back to her mother, who was smiling, but had eyes that still reflected a sense of deep sadness.

"I love you too, Mum." She hesitated. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier in the car."

Sarah folded the dress and put it to the side. She stood up and walked over Diana, wrapping her in a big hug. "There's nothing to apologize for, darling. Goodnight."

Diana smiled and headed back into the hallway. Though neither of them knew it, that would be the last time Sarah White would ever hug her daughter.

As Diana went back to bed, her mother's affirmation allowed her to drift into slumber far easier than before. Tomorrow, she would encounter a magic user for the first time, and her life would change irrevocably. Tomorrow, at this same hour, she would be sobbing uncontrollably, wishing and praying that she could turn the clock back a day. But for tonight, she could sleep peacefully, whispers of her mother's love still echoing in her mind.