Chapter 17 Pulled into memory
Celine's POV
It made me feel like I was taking a long walk into my memory.
And the first incident that occurred to me was her hazel eyes, just like mine, gazing at me, and her fingers brushing through my hair like a comb.
“Mother…”
“We finally left werewolf packs,” she said. “But even now, your father and I doubt if it's safe.”
Then she sighed, touched my cheeks, her smile going faint. Her eyes must have become wet… I thought so, but that part of her wasn't clear.
Her gaze averted from me to a girl just a few steps from me.
“Ellen,” she called. “I know you’ll always love to be among Humans.”
The other girl was standing while I was inside a bathtub. I couldn't remember who she was, but I knew it was normal for her to stay so close while I bathed. Perhaps she was a relative? I didn't know.
Anyway, I couldn't remember any relatives.
“Celine.” Lila's voice pulled me out of this memory flash.
Her eyes were keen on me, searching me as her back still rested against the wardrobe. She brought me close to herself, wrapped her arms around my shoulders while I still held the picture in my hands.
“Do you know if I have a sister? Or any sibling?” I asked.
“You just thought of this?”
“Yes… I can remember a girl of almost the same age as me, but can't go further than that to remember exactly who she was.”
“Oh…”
She let silence flood us as though she was trying to remember. I believed we weren't in the same shoes. My memories seemed to have been wiped out, and hers wasn't.
“You don't know?” She asked again.
Perhaps she might not know all the details about me.
I returned my eyes to the pictures, moving across them with my fingers, and another bit of memory seemed to find its way to me. This time, we seemed to be in the sitting room of our home. My father and mother sat on a couch in each other's arms, and a wine on a small table before them. When they drank about two glasses from it, their attention came strongly on me.
“Be careful Celine,” my father, Damon, had said.
And all Adeline did was to nod.
“Be careful” was all they had to say?
I saw no meaning in it; how old was I? That exact detail couldn't come to me. I could be fourteen or closer to fifteen, closer to the incidence of their death.
Ellen, the girl who was standing outside the bathtub, was also seated on a sofa by my parents' side, closest to the door. When she looked at me, the words that left her lips were “be careful.”
Everyone was singing a song, and this song had the same lyrics—be careful.
Then I noticed Ellen had some luggage beside the chair she was seated, about two large boxes. When she got off the sofa, her face smiled at me.
“It's time I left,” she said. “And don't forget.”
I knew already. I shouldn't forget to “be careful.”
My parents followed her to the door as she walked out. I still didn't understand the kind of relationship I had with her. Obvious signs stated that she was a part of the family, and probably the same age as me, and the same scent.
“Still in thoughts?” Lila called me back, again.
The keyword slipped out of my lips. “Ellen.”
“Oh… Ellen.” Lila wasn't looking at me, nor was she looking at the pictures as she must have seen them a thousand times, and nothing special occurred to her.
“You’ve heard of her?”
“Hmmm… If I've heard of her… I don't think so.” Then she forced a smile. “That name is not exclusive to one person, you know, and–”
“Have you?”
Did she have another secret concerning this? If only my memories weren't vague, I would have remembered all the details, and not be a stranger in them.
“I don't think so.”
“You're sure?”
She nodded.
Was she hiding information concerning this?
“My being in this werewolf palace… everything about me. What if it was all planned out?”
“Planned as in?”
I was thinking too much, but there seemed to be some sort of connection I couldn't point out, and this connection had been since the day my eyes met Tristan. It stretched above a strange sense of familiarity that I might have seen him before then.
It all had a meaning. It wasn't just about me, but also about my parents.
“When will you tell me all those things?” My face had lost the excitement it once had to see the pictures.
“Those things?”
And of course she wouldn't speak, always trying to wave the questions off.
“And how long have these pictures been with you?”
“A long time.”
“Can I have them now?”
She shook her head, her fingers already getting a grip of them. “It isn't safe. You're not supposed to have seen them now, and no one is supposed to see them.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Please don't do this. Not again.”
“Is there an arrangement that involves me? That involves these pictures?”
Her eyes only avoided me. She wouldn't say it, but I was too certain to believe there was no arrangement. It pained me that she didn't want to tell me about it, but what could I do?
I guess nothing.
“Sorry,” she said, her gaze desperately trying to portray pity thinking that would make me stop asking.
When she was close to returning the pictures back to the lower cabinet, my eyes caught notice of the patterns on the wall the pictures were taken.
“Wait…” I held her hand back, scrutinizing the pictures. “These patterns.”
“What about it?” I caught a subtle panic in her voice.
“The pattern on the walls of Tristan's room… They are the same, aren't they?”
“Celine, it's nothing.”
“I need to confirm.” I got to the door.
“How? You don't want to go back there, do you?”
I had already opened the door. “I have to… It could help reveal a bit about me.”
“Celine… Don't.”
But I stepped outside, blanking her voice out.