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A sense of trust that can't be broken, a depth of love sometimes unspoken. A life long friendship built on sharing, hugs and kisses, warmth and caring. Mother and child, their hearts as one, a link that can never be undone.

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After that grueling conversation I lay there once again, thinking about Baloria’s words, feeling the warmth of her lap beneath me, her fingers tracing gentle paths through my hair. My body still ached, the remnants of the day’s experiments buzzing beneath my skin, but here, right now, just for a moment, I could close my eyes and pretend none of it existed.

After what felt like forever “Tell me Sam,” Baloria’s voice floated down to me again, soft yet probing “What was your mother like?”

The question pulled me from the quiet I’d settled into. For a long moment, I didn’t answer, letting the silence stretch as memories stirred from some corner of my mind that I’d tried to bury. I’d spent so many years trying to forget that woman, If “mother” was even the right word for her.

I took a shaky breath. “You already saw her, didn’t you? But if I had to describe her, she was… cold.” A bitter taste filled my mouth as the memories surfaced, sharp and painful, like broken glass. “Always distant, always angry. She looked at me like I was some… inconvenience.”

Baloria’s fingers paused briefly in my hair, then resumed their slow, almost comforting rhythm. I wasn’t sure if it was her way of encouraging me to continue or just her curiosity.

“She wasn’t a mother,” I said, bitterness creeping into my voice. “I don’t remember her ever holding me, or even smiling at me. It was like I was something she was forced to carry, like a burden she never wanted.” I let out a humorless laugh. “I remember one time, when I was young, I’d fallen and scraped my knee. I thought… I thought maybe she’d care enough to help me, to comfort me. But she just glanced at me, slapped me once told me to stop crying, and walked away.”

The words spilled out of me, each one a release of pain I hadn’t realized I was holding. It was strange, talking about it, remembering the small, painful details that had left scars I carried even now.

“Every time I needed something, she wasn’t there. When I needed to be heard, I was ignored. And when I was scared… she made me feel like I didn’t deserve comfort. Like I was just supposed to handle it on my own.” I felt my hands clench, the anger and sorrow tightening my chest. “She taught me to never expect kindness, to never believe that anyone would be there for me.”

Baloria’s silence was almost heavy, as if she were absorbing every word. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her tone unreadable. “It sounds like she was a fool, incapable of understanding the worth of what she had.”

A shiver ran through me. I wasn’t sure if it was her words or just the lingering echoes of my memories.

“She was more than that,” I whispered. “She made me believe that I didn’t deserve to be loved. That I was somehow… unworthy.” The words fell out, each one carrying a piece of the pain I’d locked away, like I was finally letting go of some dark part of myself that had festered for too long. “I thought if I could just be… better, somehow, that maybe she’d look at me differently. Maybe she’d care.”

Baloria’s fingers paused, and for a moment, I thought she might say something. But instead, she let the silence hang, and I found myself pulled even deeper into the memories, unable to resist the tidal pull of all those things I’d spent so long trying to forget.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I took a shuddering breath, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “Why are you asking me this?”

Her eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t name. “Because I want to understand you,” she murmured, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “I want to know what you’ve been through. What shaped you.”

I swallowed, the weight of her gaze heavy on me. “Why does it matter?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Because,” she continued, her tone sharper now, “you seem to have a habit of holding onto pain. Clinging to it like it defines you.” Her fingers brushed my forehead, almost a caress. “You may hate her, but you’re still letting her control you, even from a world away.”

A spark of anger flared in me, ignited by her words. “You think I want this? You think I chose to be… to feel like this?” My voice cracked, a raw edge of emotion breaking through. “She’s the reason I… she taught me to believe that I wasn’t worth anything. That I didn’t deserve to be loved.”

Baloria’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something almost like pity in her eyes. But she remained silent, waiting for me to continue.

I forced myself to take a steadying breath, trying to push down the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. “Maybe you’re right,” I admitted, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “Maybe I am letting her control me. But… it’s not easy to just forget.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice low. “It’s not easy. But if you want to be free of her, you’ll have to let go. Or she’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.”

Her words echoed in my mind, a painful reminder of the grip my past still had on me. But even as I struggled with the weight of those memories, a strange emptiness lingered beneath it all an ache that I couldn’t quite explain.

“Tell me, little one,” Baloria said, her voice gentle once again. “Do you remember your mother… in this life?”

The question caught me off guard, like a sudden plunge into cold water. I stared at her, confusion swirling in my mind. “My… mother? In this life?”

She nodded, her eyes watching me intently, as if waiting for some hidden part of me to surface. “Yes. The woman who brought you into this world. The one you left behind when you ended up here.”

A strange sense of emptiness settled over me, a hollow void where memories should have been. I tried to reach for something anything that might fill that void, but all I found was silence. A blank space in my mind, untouched and unfamiliar.

“I… I don’t remember her,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. The realization left me feeling strangely hollow, as if a part of me had been erased.

Baloria’s expression shifted, a glint of intrigue flashing in her eyes. “Interesting,” she murmured, her tone laced with a hint of satisfaction. “I suppose the experiments have left more than just physical scars.”

I swallowed, the emptiness in my mind gnawing at me. It was strange, this absence of memory. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to feel. Sadness? Anger? Regret? It was as if this woman my mother was nothing more than a ghost, a figure lurking on the edges of my mind, forever out of reach.

Baloria’s fingers brushed against my cheek, pulling me back to the present. “Would you like to remember?” she asked, her voice low, almost coaxing.

I hesitated, the weight of her question settling over me. Part of me wanted to say no, to keep that void untouched, to leave my past buried. But another part of me a part that I’d spent so long trying to ignore ached to know. To understand who I was, where I came from, and who this woman was who’d given me life.

“I… I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

Baloria’s gaze softened, a rare hint of understanding in her crimson eyes. “It’s your choice, little one,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “But remember this. Memories have power. They can shape you, break you… or set you free.”

Her words hung in the air, a haunting echo that lingered in the quiet. I could feel the weight of them pressing down on me, a heavy burden that I wasn’t sure I was ready to carry.

After a long moment, I looked up at her, my voice barely audible. “Will it… will it change anything?”

Baloria’s smile was faint, almost sad. “That depends on what you choose to do with it.” She paused, her fingers brushing gently through my hair once more. “But sometimes, knowing the truth… can be a kind of freedom.”

I took a shuddering breath, the uncertainty gnawing at me. But even as I struggled with the weight of her words, a strange sense of longing stirred within me a desire to understand, to know the truth of who I was, and the life I’d left behind.

“Then… yes,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I want to know.”

Baloria’s smile deepened, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something almost like pride in her eyes. “Very well, little one,” she murmured, her voice soft and almost… gentle. “Then let me show you.”

As her fingers brushed against my forehead, a strange warmth flooded my mind, pulling me into a sea of forgotten memories a world of shadows and light, where fragments of a life I’d long since lost began to take shape.

And as I drifted deeper into that hidden realm, a single, haunting question lingered at the edges of my mind.

Who was she, the woman I’d never known, yet somehow yearned for?