The Siren's Daughter, Part 3 (v1)

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She nodded hesitantly, never taking her eyes off the house. The door creaked loudly as we entered. Although looters had stripped the house, the shattered vase, the broken glass cabinet, the trails of blood...they were all still there. The event I had witnessed in this very room would forever scar my mind. The screams and cries haunted the air, sending chills down my spine. I couldn't even imagine the anguish that Razelin was going through.

I looked back at Razelin. She slowly crept into the room, stepping lightly behind me. She looked around nervously, clinging to herself as her body trembled uncontrollably. The cries must have been deafening to her. Her breathing hastened. Her hands gripped her pendant tightly. "Devin, please. I changed my mind. Let’s go home."

Here eyes were glossed over and full of fear. The way she cowered against the wall, the way her eyes darted around unblinking… it crushed my heart. Having agreed to put her through such fear and pain...was I a terrible person? Did I do the wrong thing? No, she had to push through the storm. She had to face her fears. She had to face her past.

I looked at her sympathetically. "I know this must be difficult for you, but you must learn to face your fears."

She didn't complain. She didn't nod. She did nothing—nothing but stare at the bloodstained floor. She stared and stared. She didn't even seem to breathe. After a long moment's hesitation, she began following me through the house.

The blood on the floor and walls brought back horrendous memories, memories of which could only have been worse for young Razelin. As I looked at the sprays of blood that littered the room, I noticed more blood near the stairway. Curiosity overwhelmed me. I wanted to learn what exactly happened in that house. She reluctantly followed me as I ascended the stairs, tightly wrapping her cloak around herself. We reached the guest bedroom. The full-length mirror taunted her from across the room. Razelin, drawn to the mirror, became lost in her own reflection. Even though the image of a sweet fourteen-year-old girl stared back at her, I knew she saw something different, something more horrifying. She saw not the girl that looked into the mirror, but a shadow of the past.

It was at that moment that Razelin had finally faced her past. It was at that moment when my wish had finally come true, to learn the truth about what happened in that house a year ago. She finally decided to tell me what had happened to her. Her story...her memories...they left me speechless, confused, and frustrated. I know I wished to learn the truth, but I soon came to regret it. Her story, the one story I longed to hear, was soon the one story I longed to forget. Razelin averted her eyes and drew in a heavy breath, as she began to tell me her story.



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