steve could still remember the last time he saw her. that last day. he kept his eyes closed like his father had instructed, too terrified to open them ââ not because of ghosts but because of something much worse. because of reality. he was too young to understand everything, he even understood that then, and whatever he might have seen would only have hurt him. whatever they were running away from that night ââ it would have left a scar. unfortunately, closing his eyes didnât really change that. the events of that night never stopped haunting him.
they never stopped haunting any of them.
what steve understood was that his mother was dead. the circumstances of how that happened got confused and muddled, stories circulating from every corner of the media, each as horrible as the last. it wasnât until he was older that he was able to accept his own conclusion. of course she was ill. heâd known it back then ââ heâd known it the day he gave her the old vanity.
âitâs been a long time,â steve said, his voice quiet and tentative. he felt like he was out of his body, hovering above the scene and looking down at them ââ a mother and son, not so far apart in age, and the space between them. he wondered if he would hug her, but his body didnât move. âi⌠i thoughtâŚâ what do you say to someone you loved so deeply and lost so young, in a situation that never made sense? he looked down at his hands, realizing he couldnât feel them. they looked like someone elseâs hands. âi donât know what to say.â
How did she explain to her son that she hadnât been in her right mind? That the house had driven her already fragile mind to complete insanity? This was Steven. So logical, so fact driven. She couldnât explain that the house had tainted her mind. He wouldnât believe her, but she couldnât blame him for that. She would never blame him. All he had done was be the best big brother he could, and in turn she had flipped all of their lives around. That hadnât been fair of her, but she didnât have a choice. At least, she didnât feel like sheâd had one.
It had been a long time. He wasnât a little boy anymore, he was a grown man. She had missed so many landmarks in his life that staring at him was almost like staring at a stranger.
âIâm so sorry.â Was all she could say, tears burning her eyes as she reached out for him, placing her hand on his cheek fondly. âI love you so much. I never wanted to hurt any of you.â But she had. She had left all of her kids to grow up with out a mother and that had never been part of her plan. âI thought I would wake up. I was dreaming for so long, I needed to wake up.â Tears fell down her cheeks as she pulled her hand back from his face. As tempted as she was to pull him into a hug, she couldnât. She didnât have it in her.