Chapter Seven-An Aching Heart

Chapter Seven-An Aching Heart

My eyelids felt like lead; to heavy to open them.  I wanted to slip back into that beautiful, empty sleep.  I was surrounded by a soft warmth I was unfamiliar with and I just wanted to lose myself in it.  Slowly and regretfully, I forced open my eyes.  I groaned and pushed myself into a sitting position, rubbing my eyes.

“You’re awake, then, it seems…,”  It took me a moment to register Saft’s voice, and I looked over to see him sitting at the foot of what must’ve been his bed.  That’s when I realized I was no longer in my white dress, but an over-sized flannel shirt.  “Saft…?” I muttered, confused.  “I suppose you don’t remember, do you?   You were very late coming back and when I got to the church, you were a wreck.  You couldn’t even stand up.  I gave you an herb that knocked you out, and I took you back here,”  Slowly, memories of the previous night played back into my mind.  The church, the piano, everything.

I choked on a sob, trying to hold back.  I couldn’t let saft see me cry.  I had to push those emotions away and forget about them.  Saft just stared at me, a look in his eyes I could not fully comprehend.  

“Ebony…” Saft spoke softly.  “When I got there, you were saying something about your mother.  You miss her, don’t you?”  I couldn’t stop myself.  I broke down in tears, collapsing limply against him.  I felt so weak against these emotions.  I just couldn’t fight them off.  “Why?!  Why am I like this?  What’s happening to me?!” I cried desperately.   “Hmm…” Saft said, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.  “That’s a hard one to explain…  But you tell me, Ebony.  Is it because you are remembering? Or because you are forgetting?”  I pulled my hands away and looked at him, my eyes blurred with unfallen tears.  “Remembering what?  Forgetting what?”  I asked, my voice quivering.  Saft didn’t answer, just held my gaze for an eternity.  Finally, he broke the stare, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thick shard of glass.  He handed it to me, and I realized it was a piece of a mirror.  “Here,” he said, the sudden change of language catching me off guard.  “If you put this under your pillow, you will dream about your past.  It was given to me when I was born, by one of the angels.  Fate may punish me for interfering like this, but I think you need to know…,”  I nodded and looked down at the mirror as it caught the light.  There wasn’t a single smudge on the surface, yet the reflection was blurred.  “Saft… I don’t understand why the reflection’s all blurry,” I said.  “Because…,” he replied.  “A mirror is just glass.  And you are more than that,”