Masks Always Fall

Chapter 6

The week that followed rushed by in a blur, filled with cheer routines and a deliberate avoidance of deeper reflections of Ms. Clarke.

Today, practice ran later than usual, and I entered our front door clad only in a sports bra and shorts after a grueling session, the sun already setting.

In the kitchen, Susan turned from the refrigerator with apple juice in hand. Ever perceptive, she noticed my weary state with concerned eyes. "Tough practice, love? You look exhausted."

Leaning against the doorframe, I let out a long sigh. "The captain's on a mission to get this routine down by homecoming. Feels like she's trying to drain the life out of us in the process."

Susan sympathetically tutted, "That woman pushes you all too hard, if you ask me. Here, have some juice – you look dead on your feet."

Taking the offered glass gratefully, I took several revitalizing sips as Susan stood beside me.

"Off you go then, supper will be ready as soon as I finish up here," Susan gently shooed.

Gathering the last dregs of my energy, I prepared to ascend the stairs toward the beckoning respite of the shower. But then Susan called out once more, ever mindful of order in our little domain.

"You'll be cleaning that pigsty of a bedroom before the day is through as well, you hear? It won't do to have your room still a mess come Friday."

I groaned inwardly, weariness dragging at every limb. But Susan's word was law, and tidying had been neglected too long under the pressures of a busy schedule.

"Alright, I'll get to it straight after," I conceded wearily. Her sternness stemmed from care, after all—a kindness not all were granted.

With a parting nod of approval, Susan dismissed me once more to my tasks.

Slogging steps brought me wearily to the foot of the stairs at last, my body aching for the soothing respite of a shower above all else. Pausing there, through Jolie's open door, I glimpsed a scene that gave me pause.

She sat upon her bed, engrossed in a video call with friends, laughter and lively chatter drifting out as they enjoyed the untroubled pleasures of youth. Not wanting to intrude, I made to pass quietly up the stairs.

Before I could continue on my way, however, Jolie's eyes flicked up, finding mine discreetly watching from the hall. Her look soured at once, irritation plain. She abruptly rose and crossed the space in two strides to firmly shut the door directly in my face.

I blinked, taken aback by the forcefulness, though unsurprised by the sentiment underlying the action between 'sisters' often at odds. It seemed best not to exacerbate things further with retaliation, as Susan would surely counsel.

Entering my room, the chaos hit me harder than I expected, especially after a long day. Clothes were scattered like a messy avalanche, blocking any clear paths.

I sat down on the edge of my bed, deciding to tackle the laundry situation. I sorted shirts into bundles for washing, and in the process, my fingers found a familiar soft purple fabric.

Suddenly, my breath caught, and memories long pushed aside rushed back. It was the top I wore that night five years ago when everything fell apart, and I had no say in the matter.

The night I was forcibly separated from my birth parents in a whirlwind of lights and unfamiliar hands, plunging my little world into chaos and forever altering its foundations.

Holding the damp fabric to my racing heart, as memories flooded back, my mind lost its grip on the present, taking me back to that dark night on overwhelming emotional currents.