Short Story: Their Home
There was a time when Beatrice hopped from place to place, living on the generosity of her relatives until their fear of her bad luck overtook their love for her.
Then Elyssia took her in, stubbornly brushing aside all the items that inexplicably broke around her and insisting that Beatrice make herself at home.
It took Beatrice two years before she stopped packing everything into her luggage every day, but there would always be a part of her just waiting to be kicked out once more.
“I’ve noticed something,” Elyssia said as they cleared the mess on the kitchen floor that was once a container of pickles.
“What have you noticed?” Beatrice asked as she held the plastic bag steady.
“A lot of accidents happen around you, but no one gets hurt.”
“No way.” But Beatrice thought about it and, well, she didn’t remember ever sending anyone to the hospital, even when two cars collided head on into each other before crashing into one of the houses she stayed in.
“Do you know what that means?” Elyssia said with a wide smile, “You’re actually pretty safe to be with.”
A tiny sprout of hope opened in her chest. Beatrice smothered it before it could take root. Hope always hurt her in the end.
“Which means, we’re going to buy some new paint for your room and you will choose it. This Saturday. We’ll go out for brunch too.”
Little by little, the small two-bedroom apartment they shared felt more and more like home, something she didn’t think she would every have after her parents died.
The thought hit her like a bucket of ice water.
Someone had died around her. She wasn’t as safe as Elyssia thought.
Beatrice couldn’t bring herself to burst her cousin’s bubble as she happily planned a day out for the two of them. She smiled along, and hoped her cousin couldn’t sense the fear that gripped her heart.