Chapter 68 Unpacking
Aloria
While the men has their meeting, I decide that I prefer to go spend some time with my mother instead of listening in on their discussion, I know River will tell me anything I need to know after.
“Hey mom,” I say, entering to cosy house after knocking.
“Aloria,” She smiles at me, “just in time to helped unpack.”
The scent of fresh wood and paint fills the air as I help her unpack the boxes they brought along. The walls of the modest house are a warm beige, and the sunlight filters through the windows, casting playful shadows on the floor. I can see my mother’s face light up as she re-discovers small treasures hidden in the boxes: family photographs, hand-knitted blankets, and the delicate porcelain figurines that were passed down through generations. They seem small things, but it is the few things She manages to bring from the castle, and each item seems to carry a story, a piece of our family’s history that she’s eager to reclaim.
“Look at this!” she exclaims, holding up a faded photograph of my father, young and full of life, grinning widely next to a dog that looks older than I feel. I can’t help but chuckle at his goofy expression, and for a moment, it feels like a glimpse into a life I’ve barely known.
As we continue unpacking, I notice my mother’s smile falter as she glances around the room, her eyes lingering on the empty spaces yet to be filled. “Aloria,” she begins, her voice softening, “can you tell me about your childhood? I mean, how was it growing up? Have you always been here in River’s pack?”
I hesitate, the weight of her question pressing against my heart. Memories flood my mind… snippets of laughter, shadows of pain, and the constant search for belonging. I don’t want to hurt her, but the truth is tangled in my throat, yearning to be freed.
“I… I can share some of it,” I finally respond, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But it’s not an easy story, Mom.”
Her gaze sharpens, curiosity mingled with concern. “I want to know, Aloria. Please.”
Taking a deep breath, I gather my thoughts. “I was kidnapped as a baby, you know that much. I don’t remember how or why, but I ended up in another pack. I think I must have been left there or found by them… or maybe they were the ones who took me, but I can’t recall the details… but I do not remember anything before that.” My heart races at the memories I can’t fully grasp, but I push on. “I spent years there, growing up in a place where I never felt safe.”
My mother’s expression darkens, and she steps closer, her hands trembling slightly. “I wish I could have been there for you. I hope they treated you well, at least…”
I can’t bear to see the worry etched on her face, but the truth is heavier than I anticipated. “I wish I could say they were kind, Mom,” I confess, my voice thickening with emotion. “But they didn’t treat me like family. I was… I was more like a servant to them. I was made to work, to obey their commands. It felt like I was nothing more than a slave.”
The words hang in the air, stark and raw. I watch as my mother’s eyes widen, tears pooling at the corners. “Oh, Aloria…” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
I reach out, placing a hand on her arm, my heart aching for her pain. “Don’t cry, Mom. Please.” I take a breath, steadying myself. “I know it sounds terrible, but it shaped me into who I am today. It taught me resilience, and it led me to River.”
Her tears spill over, and I feel a sharp tug of empathy. “You deserved better than that, my sweet girl. I can’t believe they treated you like that.”
“Mom, I promise you, it’s okay.” I offer her a reassuring smile, even as I feel the weight of my past. “It made me strong. I found my pack with River, and they love me. They care for me in ways I never thought possible. I have a family now. I’m home.”
She wipes her tears away, but her eyes remain glassy. “I just wish I could have protected you, Aloria. I wish I could have saved you from that life.”
“I know,” I say gently. “But it’s in the past now, and I’m finally where I belong. I’m grateful for that.” I squeeze her hand, hoping to transfer some of my strength to her. “I have you, and dad and two amazing brothers. I have River and the pack. I have a future.”
As we stand there, surrounded by boxes and memories, I realize that sharing my truth, no matter how painful, is part of healing. It’s a bridge connecting the fragments of my past with the love and hope of my present. My mother and I may never fully understand the journey that brought us here, but we can face it together.
“Let’s finish unpacking,” I suggest, my spirits lifting as I glance around at the house we’re building together. “We have a lot to do, and I want to make this place feel like home.”
With a nod, she wipes her cheeks and takes a deep breath, her determination returning. “Yes, let’s make it beautiful.”
As we dive back into the boxes, laughter soon fills the air again. We share stories, dreams, and plans for the future, filling the spaces with memories yet to be made. I feel lighter with each item we unpack, the shadows of my past fading as I embrace the love that surrounds me now.