“Blinded by what?” asked Ranelle, reaching up and touching the binding across her face tentatively.
“Things are very different out here. You must allow yourself to adjust slowly or there could be permanent damage,” the woman explained matter-of-factly.
“Where am I?” asked Ranelle as she attempted to sit up, but was again gently restrained.
“I urge you not to push yourself, you’re among friends. You won’t be harmed. When the others wake, you’ll begin the transition together which should make it easier on you,” the woman’s voice insisted.
Ranelle’s frustration grew. She didn’t appreciate being placated like a young child. She had questions, and she wanted answers.
Her thoughts came back to Gideon.
“You found all four of us?” Ranelle asked.
“Umm,” said the voice, sounding unsure for the first time since their conversation had begun.
“What is it?” Ranelle asked sharply, afraid of what her answer might be.
“We found the three of you on the path, however when we followed the trail of the fourth,” here the woman’s voice trailed off abruptly.
“When you followed his trail?” Ranelle pressed.
“The path led into the furrow, I’m afraid he could not be retrieved.”
Ranelle’s heart sank, tears welling up in her eyes. She shook in disbelief, causing her head to spin as her eye bindings became soggy with tears.
“No,” she sobbed, covering her eyes with her hands and shaking as grief threatened to overtake her.
“I’m very sorry,” said the woman’s voice as she stroked Ranelle’s shoulder, offering sympathy.
Ranelle rocked with sobs, unable to hold back her grief.
The woman tried her best to console her as she patted her back, “Shhh, it will be alright…”
Here the woman paused, unsure of what to call her.
“Ranelle,” she whimpered in response.
“Ranelle?” asked the woman as her voice faltered and she fell quiet.
“Yes,” she sniffed, unsure why her name mattered.
“Ranelle Blake?” asked the woman, saying her last name slowly.
Ranelle immediately stiffened as she turned toward the voice, “how did you know that?” When the woman failed to answer, she pressed again, “how do you know my name?”
The woman remained silent as the pressure abruptly lifted off the bed.
“Wait, how do you know my name?” Ranelle pleaded, reaching out to touch the woman who was no longer within her reach.
“Just one moment, please,” the voice called back as it retreated.
Ranelle swept her head back and forth, listening for Lara or Charlie, but there was only silence. Feeling an overwhelming sense of fear, she slid her fingers behind her head, feeling the thick knot of the eye binding that was keeping her in the dark. She pulled at the knot, loosening it enough so that she could pull the blind off her eyes.
As it slid down her face, she was suddenly overwhelmed with light. A white hot, blinding light. She screamed, slapping her hands over her eyes for protection.
“It burns!” she shrieked, rocking forward and burying her head in her hands, attempting to block out the searing light. Her eyes burned and watered as she pressed her fingers to her eyeballs, rubbing them to try and relieve the pain.
“No!” a voice rung out as someone ran to her bedside. Ranelle felt as phantom hands yanked the blind back up over her eyes, effectively shutting out the agonizing light.
Ranelle gasped with relief, reaching her arms out to steady herself as her head spun. She breathed heavily as the pain slowly began to retreat.
Gentle hands reached out again, pressing her back onto her pillow.
“Thank you,” she said weakly, her voice trembling as her stomach churned.
A few moments later, upon realizing her aide hadn’t spoken, she reached out to see if they’d left her. As her hands searched, she felt someone clasp them gently in response. The hands were soft and smooth, the fingers long and warm.
“You didn’t tell me how you knew my name,” said Ranelle, feeling much calmer than before.
“She knew your name because there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t mention you,” a new voice responded. The hands that held hers squeezed ever so slightly, caressing them as if they were precious.
Ranelle gasped as she was struck with recognition, as if someone had thrown an ice-cold cup of water in her face. With all of the cycles that had passed and all of the pain she’d endured since their parting, she could never, ever forget that voice. It was the voice that came to her in her dreams, begging her not to forget. The voice that told her she would be there always–that she was loved. The voice that Ranelle had thought she would never hear again.
“Mom?”
THE END
About The Author
Tiffany Pelletier was born and raised in Maine, falling in love with writing while in college. She loves the outdoors and spending time with her family. Tiffany currently resides in sunny Central Florida with her husband and three children.
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