#;;aster

❁☎A happy memory/A memory of their family or parents

A seven year old Aster Ferreria bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet, occasionally standing on her tiptoes in an effort to peek over the counter. Her father was talking with the kind-looking woman while writing something down on what seemed like an enormous stack of papers for the young girl. Light green eyes moved to large white double doors where her mother had disappeared into for more than half an hour now. 

She didn’t know what was taking so long. She wanted to meet her now.

“Papa,” she began, inching closer to her father. “How much longer?”

No sooner than the words left her mouth did the double doors creak open. Aster’s attention immediately went to the door, eyes wide with a bright smile as she watched the small brown-haired girl. A pout seemed permanently etched on the brunette’s face as she reluctantly allowed herself to be taken to the counter.

Aster, however, did not allow the girl - no, her younger sister - to bring down her mood. She bounded happily towards the young girl and engulfed her in a hug. The younger girl struggled against her hold, but Aster simply smiled happily and held on tighter. It didn’t take long until Aster felt small hands on her back.

She finally released the girl, the bright smile still painted on her lips. “Hello! I’m Aster. I’m going to be your big sister from now on!”

The younger girl opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the woman at the counter piped up. “You better not say anything horrible, Rosie. These are nice people, and they’re doing good for you. Don’t be the ungrateful brat that you are.” The woman sneered, and Aster barely saw her father reel back.

For the seven year old, the woman’s beautiful image from before transformed. She imagined the woman with horrible horns and a forked tongue.

Aster grabbed her sister’s hand and stood in front of her. “Don’t talk to her like that, you big meanie!”

“Yes, Mrs. Holland, I would appreciate if you didn’t speak like that to my daughter,” her father spoke up in a tone that Aster only ever heard when he spoke to their neighbor about their dog that liked to poop in front of their house.

Aster felt her hand being squeezed and she turned her attention away from her parents who had began to tersely sign the paperwork necessary. “What is it, Rosie?”

The girl visibly flinched, and Aster felt panic rise up her chest. “Please don’t call me that. The kids in the shelter make fun of me because of that name.”

She nodded, as seriously as a seven year old could. “What do you want me to call you then?”

This seemed to give the younger girl pause before she ducked her head and avoided Aster’s intent gaze. “I... I read Sleeping Beauty yesterday. The princess was called Briar Rose.”

Aster beamed as she took the girl into her arms again. “Okay! We’ll call you that. Briar! You’re Briar, my little sister!”

☠  A dreadful or painful memory

Aster woke with a start. Her eyes snapped open and blinked back against blinding white light. A scent of pristine cleanliness filled her senses and she fought back the urge to empty her stomach. There were voices muted by the ringing in her ears and shadows dancing in her peripheral. A warm hand found its way on her shoulder, and Aster cringed away.

“Aster, please. It’s us.”

The calming voice of her mother rips through the cloud that had overcome her mind and she blinked towards her direction. She could see her mother somewhat clearer now. The once well put together woman looked horrible, with bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. Aster’s hand moved of its own accord towards the woman that had nurtured her her entire life, but IV lines hindered her movements.

She looked around. White ceiling. White walls. White bedsheets. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she was dead and this was heaven.

“Why-” Her throat was dry as a desert, and her parents seemed to have sensed this. A quick drink of water later, and the questioned flowed through her lips again. “Why am I in the hospital?”

Her parents shared a look. The look. It felt like someone had dumped ice on her spine.

“Where’s Briar?”

There was no answer. Her mother’s eyes watered, and her father took a step towards her. Aster moved away.

“Where’s my sister?”

“Aster-”

“No.” The word was whispered, repeated like a prayer, as memories began to play in the forefront of her mind. The smell of vodka think in Reagan’s breath. Briar huffing in the passenger seat and taunting her by unbuckling her seatbelt. Two bright lights approaching at breakneck speed as Reagan ran a red light. Spinning. Crashing. Blood.

Aster could still taste the coppery liquid. “No. You’re lying. She’s not… She’s fine.” She heard a drip, and she was certain it wasn’t from her IV fluid.

❀ Aster Ferreria - Moodboard [1/?]