《FORGIVEN》


 Empty House

    Blair stands in a rigid posture before a rusty wooden door covered with ivy; the door she thought she didn¡¯t have to see for the rest of her life. Now that she¡¯s here again, an unsolicited childhood memory rushes through her head, giving her a familiar twist in the gut.


    Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she reaches the door knocker that has been there since she can remember. An angry man with a thick mustache on the knocker head stared at her with an accusation in his eyes. At least, that¡¯s what she thinks. She should have visited her brother since their mother died, but she never did.


    She holds her breath and knocks on the door. Once. Twice. She heaves a sigh. Thrice.


    A minute has passed but no one is coming to open the door for her. This is weird. Brayden should be home by now. Didn¡¯t he receive the letter she sent him a week ago? Also, she still remembers her brother¡¯s number one rule about life: never stay later than 5 PM at work, especially on a cold winter like this. Has he changed now? Or maybe he¡¯s not working in the garage anymore.


    The rumbling sound from the sky pulls her out of her train of thoughts. She looks up and watches the lightning blink rapidly behind the dark clouds. A chill wind blows, prompting the tail of her coat to dance frantically in the air. She needs to get inside soon or she will be caught in the rain at any minute.


    She thumps the door with the rusted iron ring once again, harder this time. Once she hears footsteps coming from the other side of the door, she quickly grabs the trunks that the taxi driver has thrown onto the porch steps. Her stomach churns but she convinces herself that everything will be fine. She¡¯s doing the right thing. This house doesn¡¯t affect her anymore because she will not allow it.


    The footsteps have stopped for a while, yet she is still outside, waiting. Minutes go by but the door remains closed, standing proudly before her, mocking her.


    ¡°Brayden? Are you there? It¡¯s me, Blair!¡± she says, announcing her arrival, but it¡¯s only answered with stillness from the other side. A drop of water hits her forehead, urging her to glance up. ¡°Oh, Pete¡¯s sake!¡± She puts down her suitcases and starts pounding on the door with her hand. ¡°Brayden! Open up the door, please. It¡¯s starting to rain!¡±


    Blair¡¯s voice falters as she notices the door move slightly. Frowning, she pushes the door farther, followed by a creaking sound as it swings open. A dark entrance hall and wooden staircase come into view but Brayden is nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°Brayden?¡± Blair calls again, dragging her trunks inside. She closes the door once she manages to turn on the light.


    The hall is eerily the same as she remembers, but it looks rather neglected. Clearly, a house chore is still Brayden¡¯s least favorite. The ceiling is no longer white, adorned with spider webs in every corner. The mint wallpaper has turned brownish now, but the grey floral pattern is still as clear as ever. She shivers at the thought of how the pattern haunted her dream for some time.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Noticing the absence of light in the living room and the dining room, she makes her way upstairs. Surprisingly, it¡¯s also dark everywhere on the second floor. Brayden can¡¯t be home. He hates darkness. He always complained about feeling shut when he couldn¡¯t see anything. He even slept with a dim light on every night back when they still shared a room. Or has he now got over his fear?


    Blair stands in front of her brother¡¯s bedroom door. Leaning forward with her ears almost pressing on the door, she knocks softly. ¡°Are you there, Brayden?¡±


    Nothing.


    Convinced that her brother is not home, she turns away and heads back to the stairs. When the corner of her eyes catches a movement at Brayden¡¯s door, she stops short and turns her head to look. But what she sees is just an empty dark hall. Has she imagined it?


    Instead of starting to climb down the stairs, her eyes shift to the green door with a red heart painting on the other end of the hallway. Her heart beats faster as the memory flashes through her mind. So much has happened behind that door, giving her the mixed feelings she failed to unravel. Longing and daunting merged into one emotion, and she couldn¡¯t see where the line was.


    Forcing herself to look away, she flees downstairs, ignoring her shaky feet.


    Once she is standing near the entrance door again, she releases the breath she was holding. She pulls her coat closer to her torso, wondering if the temperature in the house is colder than when she was still outside. Then an unpleasant smell evades her nostrils, urging her to scrunch her nose while slowly walking in the direction of the odor source.


    The stinking smell is getting prominent when she stands at the kitchen door. Her hand roams over the wall, stumbling onto the wall phone before she can find the switch. Once on, the light swallows the blackness in one blink of an eye, making her eyes squint for a few seconds. When she finally adjusts to the brightness, she sweeps the kitchen with her eyes, and her gaze falls on the crammed trash bin under the sink.


    Sighing, she strides to the source of the disgusting odor while biting her lower lip, holding back the urge to vomit. Wearing a pair of stained rubber gloves from the sink, she quickly picks up the trash that is partly scattered on the floor, throws them back into the bin, and secures the garbage bag.


    BAM!


    ¡°Sweet Mary, mother of God!¡± Blair says, feeling her heart jump out of her chest. After she registers what has just happened, she slowly spins around to check where the noise came from.


    Before her, the back door swings back and forth as the wind pushes its way into the house, causing the worn-out cream valance on the kitchen window to sway fiercely. Blair heaves a sigh of relief after learning it¡¯s just the wind. Brayden must have left the house in a rush that he forgot to lock the doors.


    With the trash bag in her hand, she hurries out of the kitchen door, determined to get rid of the stinky trash as soon as possible.


    The back porch is full of furniture that she can¡¯t remember having in the house before. She makes a mental note to ask Brayden later about it as she jogs to the backyard under the cold drizzle. Judging from how tall the grass is, Brayden must¡¯ve not done any gardening work for some time. He¡¯s probably too busy with work.


    After she manages to throw the trash into the big bin next to the rear gate, she runs back to the house. It¡¯s when her eyes catch a glimpse of a person lying on a reclining chair on the back porch, covered with a blanket.


    ¡°Brayden?¡± she calls as she approaches the chair. She¡¯s almost sure it wasn¡¯t there when she walked out of the kitchen door, but now she¡¯s not sure anymore.


    ??????

 Mother

    As she comes closer, she can make out the familiar blond wavy hair peek out from under the blanket. The steady movement of deep breathing is evidence that her brother is asleep right now. Not wanting to wake him up, Blair steps carefully to the side so that she can sit on the porch railings. Apparently, the aging wood is too weak to hold her weight. It cracks under her, splitting the evening stillness at the back porch. Out of reflex, she grabs the pole next to her for a balance while muttering cuss words.


    The commotion wakes up the sleeping brother. Brayden stirs awake as his eyes are slowly opening.


    "I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to wake you up," Blair says when her brother props himself into a sitting position.


    Looking confused, Brayden''s eyes roam over the back porch before they stop on Blair''s face. He doesn''t move for a few seconds before rubbing his eyes and looking up again. Brayden blinks. "Blair..." he calls. "Is it really you? I''m not dreaming, am I?"


    Blair''s lips curl into a smile. "Yes, it''s me. And no, you''re not dreaming."


    Taking in her brother''s figure, she realizes how thin he has become. Even under the dim light skimming through the kitchen window, his skin is unmistakably pale. His cheekbones look prominent than ever, and the dark circles around his eyes are alarming.


    Blair narrows her eyes on her brother, slightly bending over to him to take a better look. "Brayden, are you sick? You don''t look well."


    "I''m not sick." Brayden pushes his blanket to the side and lowers his feet to the ground. He glances up at her, still with mixed emotions written on his face. "Why didn''t you tell me you''re coming home?"


    "I did send you a letter. Did you not receive it?"


    "What letter? When?"


    "About me coming to you. I sent it a week ago."


    Brayden purses his lips. "Weird. I didn''t get it."


    "They must have sent it to a different address. It happens pretty often lately." Blair sighs but then a smile reappears across her face. "It doesn''t matter now. I''m here and you''re home."


    "It''s been a while. I''ve been trying to find you but no one knows your whereabouts. Where have you been, Blair? And how are you?"


    "Brayden, I..." Blair pauses, contemplating to tell him that she has been hiding under a different name and different hair color in these past years. Then she decides against it. "I''ve been working in the city. I''m sorry I''ve been shutting myself from everyone, but I''m doing fine. I''ve got the help that I need and I''ve been talking to someone for years now."


    Brayden nods a few times, seeming pleased with her answer despite the superficial information she gave him. Blair knows she has to tell him the reason she came home, but it can wait for now; she''s just arrived after all. It''s been eight years since she saw him at their mother''s funeral, and the emotional gap between them feels unbearably large at the moment.


    "It''s freezing out here." Blair crosses her arms over her chest. "I don''t understand how you could fall asleep in this cold. Let''s go inside, I''ll make us some tea."


    In the next fifteen minutes, Blair and Brayden settle in the kitchen with two cups of tea and a jar of gingerbread sitting on the table that separates them. The awkwardness envelops the kitchen air as the two siblings silently sip from their teacups and munch on the cookies.


    "Have you eaten? I can order food for us," asks Brayden.


    Blair shakes her head. "No, don''t worry. I had an early dinner on the train. I thought it would be handy in case I couldn''t find you here."If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "Okay." Brayden looks down at his porcelain cup. "It''s very good to have you home again, Blair. I''ve missed you. And I missed your thirtieth birthday last week. I guess it''s not too late to say it." Brayden looks up and smiles; the smile that once became her favorite. "Happy belated birthday, Blair."


    "Thank you." Blair shifts in her chair as she forces a smile. "I thought it was time for me to visit you. I''m sorry if it took too long."


    "No, I get it. I understand if you didn''t want to have anything to do with me anymore." Brayden looks at his sister, a glint of sadness flashes in his eyes. "Or with this house."


    "You''re my brother. No matter what happened in the past, we will still always be related. I only have two choices, Brayden: keep on hating my past or make peace with it. I chose the latter. And that''s why I came home now."


    Brayden stares blankly at the cookie jar in front of them. "I wish I could change the past for you, for us. If only I could turn back the time, I would do it differently."


    "You were just a child, Brayden. You didn''t know any better."


    "I hope you understand that Mother never meant to hurt you, Blair." His eyes slowly turned glassy. "She was just..."


    "Sick," Blair finishes his line, ignoring the twisting sensation in her stomach. "I know. But still, it''s not easy to get over all the pain she made me carry for all of these years."


    "I wish I stepped up and defended you as a big brother should."


    Blair doesn''t reply. Her shaky forefinger traces the curve of the porcelain cup while her mind is sailing to that room. The room with a green door.


    ¡ã¡ã¡ã


    They were both facing the mirror. Blair''s mother stood behind her with scissors in hand and eyes blazed with anger.


    "I knew the second you''re born, you weren''t my child. They took my baby away when she was still in my womb. You''re sent to this world to destroy my life. To kill my husband," her mother growled.


    Blair tried to sniffle her sob as tears escaped her eyes. "I''m your child, Mother. I''ve always been."


    "Silent! Do not talk back to me!" Her mother grabbed her long blond hair. "You''ve been hiding long enough behind those pretty blue eyes, behind this silky hair. It''s time to show yourself."


    She pulled her hair, jerked her head to the side, and the scissors started to dance on her long wavy blonde hair.


    Brayden sat on their mother''s bed, watching silently as their mother abused his sister.


    ¡ã¡ã¡ã


    "Come here, my child."


    Blair stood still at the doorway, nervously glancing at her mother who was sitting on the vanity chair by the bedroom window. The torment from last night''s assault was still very clear playing in her head. But when she now looked into her mother''s brown eyes, she saw love and adoration.


    "Are you not angry at me anymore, Mother?"


    Her mother chuckled. "When am I ever? You know I always love you. Come, close the door behind you, and sit on your mother''s lap."


    Every word that escaped her mother''s mouth was to be obeyed. Blair shut the door before slowly walking to her mother. When she was close enough, her mother extended her hands to gently help Blair settle on her lap. Then her mother began to hum her favorite song while resting her chin on the top of Blair''s hair.


    She felt loved.


    When she felt a hand caress her unevenly cut hair, Blair stiffened, but she relaxed again once the singing resumed. Blair melted into her mother''s arms while her body drank in her motherly voice.


    Peaceful.


    Until the humming stopped, replaced by the sound of the ticking clock on her mother''s dressers. Blair waited in anticipation as her eyes are fixed on the closed green door. Her escape.


    ¡ã¡ã¡ã


    "Our house is pretty much the same as when you came home eight years ago. Nothing has really changed." Brayden''s voice pulls Blair back to the current moment. "Only, your bedroom has a little issue with the heating. I need to fix it tomorrow. You can use Mother''s room tonight."


    Blair quivers at the idea. "Umm, can I just stay in your room instead?"


    "Of course."


    Blair rubs her upper arms. "And it''s cold here, I don''t know how you can survive this temperature with only wearing a T-shirt. Why don''t we move to your bedroom and talk some more? We have a lot to catch up on."


    Brayden agrees. He then stands up to lock the kitchen door. When Blair tries to clean up the table, he touches her hand to stop her. "I''ll take care of it in the morning."


    ??????

 Awakening

    The rest of the evening goes pleasantly. Brayden fills her sister in on his update in the past eight years. He still works in his garage. The money isn''t great but he loves what he''s doing. He also met someone. Unfortunately, his girlfriend has to be at her parent''s home for Christmas. He hopes Blair stays long enough so that he can introduce Rita to her.


    While Brayden tells his life story, Blair can''t help smiling now and then, genuinely happy with how life has been treating him. She can''t remember the last time she saw her brother this content. Probably before their mother started with the torture. Maybe never. Their childhood was filled with a roller coaster ride under a schizophrenic mother''s care. Even though Blair was the one who became the receiving end of their mother''s wrath during her episodes, Brayden''s smile was taken away at a young age.


    Brayden clears his throat, looking suddenly nervous. "I don''t know if I will have a chance to tell you this in the future." He takes Blair''s cold hand in his. "Blair, I''ve been living in guilt for far too long. I should''ve stepped up and helped you every time Mother was at it. Instead, I just stood there and watched until she was done with you."


    Blair stares at their joint hands. "Brayd-"


    "I don''t know what I was thinking. I don''t deserve to be called your brother." Tears roll down his cheeks as he begins to sob.


    "We were both surviving the situation, Brayden." Blair squeezes her brother''s hands. Her heart aches seeing him cry. "You will always be my brother. I know I tried to cut the ties with you. It was just hard for me to see you without associating it with Mother and everything she did to me."


    "I helped her hurt you by doing nothing." He shakes his head. "I''m a monster "


    "You were just a child, Brayden. Remember that. Your conscience was taken away from you. You didn''t know what was right or wrong. All we believed was everything that Mother said."


    "You didn''t kill Father, Blair."


    "I know. Father was in an accident because he was speeding to the hospital during my delivery. It wasn''t my fault." Blair''s vision is becoming blurry from the tears she''s been holding back. "It took me years of counseling to come to terms with it. I wasn''t the cause of Father''s death. Mother was wrong."


    Brayden wipes the tears from his face with his shirt sleeve. "I''m glad you finally found peace within yourself."


    "I''m not there yet, Brayden, but soon I will be. This is the very reason why I came home this Christmas. Because I want to start making peace with you. I want us to fix what we can fix, while we still have time."


    Brayden smiles weakly at his little sister. "I know you''ve probably forgiven me, but I need to hear it, Blair. Can you forgive me for not being there with you? And for not being able to protect you? Forgive me for letting Mother do those unspeakable things to you. Forgive me for everything."


    Blair''s lips quiver when she says, "I forgive you, Brayden Rothchild."


    ??????


    Blair wakes up to the sound of frantic rain hitting the window. When her brain registers the unfamiliarity of the place, she jerks up and quickly crawls out of the bed. But once the memory of last night''s talk with Brayden floods back in, she lets out a breath of relief. She''s in Brayden''s room. Her brother must have moved to their mother''s bedroom after she fell asleep during their catching up.


    Noticing the temperature that must have dropped by several degrees since last night, she grabs her khaki coat from the chair before making her way out of the bedroom. When she closes the door behind her, her gaze is immediately drawn to the green door at the end of the hall. Suddenly feeling weak, she leans back and closes her eyes.


    Her mother''s face appears in her mind: the pale complexion contrasting the fiery brown eyes as the woman began to give in to her delusions. Blair opens her eyes and shakes her head to erase the image from her head. She can''t blame her mother for being sick. Her mother was also suffering, in her own way.


    All she needs to do is forgive and accept her mother''s situations.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    With every fiber in her body, she finally says, "I forgive you, Mother. I accept every single thing that happened in the past. I accept us."


    It takes her a few minutes before she can pull herself together. She understands forgiving is a process, but it has to start somewhere. And she did it. For the first time after so many years, she voluntarily turns her gaze to the green door.


    Then she smiles.


    ??????


    Deciding not to wake up her brother, Blair heads downstairs to fix some tea for herself. As she walks past the living room door, she notices something is off. The thought prompts her to step backward and check. She freezes when her eyes take in the view in front of her.


    The living room is empty. All the furniture is gone. What she sees now is just a square room with a gold lamp hanging on the ceiling.


    Blair is still trying to make sense of it when she hears a key jiggle in the lock of the front door. In the next seconds, the door is yanked open, revealing a woman with a small figure who is busy cussing as she quickly shuts the door behind her. The woman stops abruptly when she notices someone else''s presence in the hallway.


    "Who are you?" Blair asks.


    "I was about to ask you the same question."


    "This is my house, my family house. How did you get the key to our family house?"


    "What?" The woman looks as confused as Blair. "Wait. This is your house, you said?"


    "Yes. I''m Blair Rothchild. My brother, Brayden, lives here."


    The woman raises her eyebrows before she breaks into a smile. "So, you''re the sister." She takes a few steps closer before extending her hand. "I''m Francis Williams, the property agent who is appointed to handle your property. I know it''s been a while, but I''m sorry for your loss, Ms. Rothchild."


    Blair doesn''t take her hand, her head busy digesting what the woman has just said. "Property agent? Wait. Has Brayden contacted you? Is he planning to sell this house?"


    Francis stares at her with a blank expression before carefully saying, "Ms. Rothchild, your brother has passed away. He died in a car accident."


    Blair looks at Francis as if she has gone crazy. "There must be a misunderstanding. I was with him last night."


    Now it''s Francis''s turn to look at Blair as if she has gone nuts. "That''s not possible. Mr. Rothchild died three months ago, and his aunt has to step up to take care of this house. They''re planning to clean up this house and put it on the renting list due to the maintenance cost..."


    Francis''s voice is gradually leaving Blair''s head. She doesn''t understand what is going on. Brayden was talking to her last night. They spent the evening reconnecting, and for the first time after a long while, Blair embraced the feeling of having a family again, that everything was going to be okay.


    Her brother is not dead.


    Brayden can not be dead.


    "Ms. Rothchild, they''ve been trying to get in contact with you since you''re the legal heir to this property, but they couldn''t find you. Meanwhile, your aunt needs to take some necessary steps until you come to claim what is yours..."


    "This is nonsense. I need to find Brayden." Blair bolts out and runs upstairs. She pushes open her mother''s bedroom door, and to her surprise, the room is as empty as the living room. Blair starts to feel dizzy, refusing to believe her own eyes.


    She sprints to Brayden''s bedroom. The bed she slept on last night is still there, unmade, while her trunks are sitting next to the nightstand, just exactly where Brayden put them.


    "I knew it! Look, his room isn''t empty. He lives here. My brother is not dead!"


    "We''re planning to clear up this room and the kitchen after Christmas. But first, we need to sort out all the unused furniture that is piled up on the back porch. Unless you want to decide otherwise," Francis says.


    "The porch!" Blair jolts and runs downstairs. She strides to the backdoor and yanks it open, hoping that Brayden is now sitting on his reclining chair. But his brother is nowhere to be found. The porch looks exactly how she saw it last night except for Brayden''s chair is no longer there.


    Feeling like she''s going to faint soon, Blair trudges back to the kitchen and sits down at the table where she drank the tea with Brayden last night. The cups are still there, sitting next to the cookie jar. With a shaky hand, she takes the jar and looks closely at the smiley gingerman inside the glass pot. When she notices the cookies are all moldy and have turned darker, nausea hits her stomach.


    She runs to the sink and throws up. Francis, who has been following her, rushes to her and holds back her hair while Blair is emptying her stomach.


    "I''m sorry, Ms. Rothchild."


    ??????


    Blair stands in front of the rusty wooden door of her childhood house. The house that she is letting go of for good now. Deep down, she knows that the memory buried within will always be a part of her. She has decided to come here to make peace with her past, and she''s glad she did it.


    She finally accepts the fact her brother is dead, but she believes Brayden was with her that night, and she''s sure he knows that she has forgiven him.


    The sound of the gravel crunching under the wheels prompts her to turn her head. A yellow cab is slowing down before it finally stops next to her. The window rolls open, revealing a man in his forties who is nodding at her.


    "Ms. Rothchild?"


    "Yes."


    "Let me help with the bags," says the man as he gets out of the car.


    While the driver is bringing her suitcases to the car trunk, Blair takes one last look at her childhood house. It''s when she sees a shadow behind her mother''s bedroom window. Blair smiles, knowing that her brother is watching her go with peace.


    "Goodbye, Brayden."


    With that, she turns on her heels. She''s ready now. It''s time to go home.


    -END-