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☠︎
"Mom?"
A beautiful fair skinned woman with dark brown curly hair, pets a small girl's hair with her delicate fingers. She's crouched next to the girl's bed, her back turned to the doorway where Morana is watching the scene to unveil itself.
"Yes, darling", her voice is like a warm blanket that you get to cuddle under on a cold winter night. It's like that comforting sound of a cat purring.
The mere sound of it makes shivers run down Morana's spine. She'd forgotten what her own mother sounded like. She misses that voice.
"What's wrong with me?"
Morana tilts her head as she looks at her own younger self. Those eyes seem more innocent.
"What do you mean? There's nothing wrong with you", the woman assures and Morana can basically see that worried face without even seeing the face of her mother.
"Am I broken?" That child like tone is full of despair and sorrow.
The older woman takes a deep breath. "You're not broken. You're different. Different is good."
"But mom I don't wanna be different", the girl complains, pulling her covers tighter around herself.
"No one at school likes me."
A shuddering breath releases itself from the woman's mouth.
"Do you think your little friends like you now, Morana Nyx Mavros?"
The whole setting of the room changes. The warm light of the nightlight flickers off. Mist fills the room and wind blows in from somewhere.
Slowly but surely, the woman's head starts turning to the side. It wouldn't have been anything weird if it'd stopped when the anatomy of a human wills a head to stop turning. But it didn't. The head simply keeps turning. And turning. and turning. Until Morana's mother is looking straight at Morana. But it's not her mother anymore.
Golden eyes. But not the beautiful yet powerful gold like Morana's eyes, but a violent, cold and merciless gold.
"How do you think Percy Jackson would look at you if he ever found out what you did?"
The words will probably taunt Morana for years to come. She tries to twist and run but her limbs don't obey her. Her feet completely betray her as the woman slowly stands up, her feet pointing to the direction of the bed where Morana's younger self previously was, and the face of her mother looking straight at her, 180 degrees to the other direction as her feet.
