PANIC ROOM • KENJI KON

LXIII. Don't Let Me Go

Chapter Sixty Three:  Don't Let Me Go

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There's something so beautiful about scattered sunlight. The way it peeks through a blanket of clouds, illuminating a rather dreary sky. It's like a reminder, there to tell you, hey, it's not all bad.

As Eva sat up, the first thing she noticed was the soft white sand beneath her. And then how alluring the waves were, rising and falling to the beat of their own drums. Dolphins rode the waves in the distance, their silvery skin contrasting to the bright cobalt water.

Then she noticed the palm trees rising around her, casting their own mini shadows. Cliffs judded out over the sea, overgrown with grass and flowers. Behind her, an entire field of wildflowers stretched as far as the eye could see. The beach reached to the horizon, and probably kept going. She had no idea where she was, but she knew one thing: this place was as breathtaking as a heaven on earth.

She began walking, and after wandering around for a while, she made her way to the field of flowers. Bright red bee balm scattered the ground like Little Red Riding's cloak. Stocks of primrose rose to her fingertips, as yellow as lemons, as soft as a baby's blanket. Spherical heads of purple flowers ascended in clumps around the field. Eva could spot pink daisies and dogtooth violets and blue gentians, and white and orange and purple and every color known to man. The field was an outburst of color, like a painting that could only live in her imagination. The air smelled so strong, so vibrant, like mint mixed with citrus mixed with rose.

Here, the wrap of clouds was gone, and there were only puffy whisps dragged through the sky, and the warm sun baking her skin.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Eva jumped and turned, her eyes trailing over a tall woman. She was a few inches taller than Eva, with sandy blonde hair that fell in beach waves down her back. Her eyes were a striking green, dotted with golden flecks and brown rims. Her lips thin. Her skin soft looking. She smiled so brightly, leaving dimples and smile lines in its wake. Mom jeans and converse.

The woman looked incredibly young, like she couldn't be ten years older than Eva. And although she looked nothing as Eva remembered her, the ache in her gut and the burning in her chest told her this was her mother. Her mother, back from the dead. Her mother, standing a few feet away, with tears in her eyes and her arms open wide.

Eva tackled her in a hug, breathing in the scent of chamomile and honey, just like the tea she used to make. She sobbed into her mother's chest, the two slowly working their way to the ground.

Her mother brushed her fingers through Eva's hair. Pulling back, she took in all Eva had to offer. Her shorts were back to their soft mauve pink, the lace at the bottom fixed. Her asymmetric, black, cold shoulder top was void of any dirt, blood, or sweat. Instead of hanging loosely, it clung to her figure. Her blonde locks were freshly conditioned. She looked as good as she felt, she realized.

"You're so beautiful," her mother spoke as she cupped Eva's cheeks, and brought her forehead to her lips. "My beautiful ángel. I'm so glad I have you back, sweetie."

"Back? From where?" Eva asked, pulling back slightly from her mother's embrace.

Her mother waved her hand. "Nevermind that. What do you say we make crowns? You need something to frame your pretty pink cheeks."