Mirai

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I scrambled to run after Tamah as she disappeared out the bedroom door. Down the stairs and to the front door while yelling at her to stop. But when she exited the house, I was the one to stop.

I stood in the doorway and watched as she continued to run. She barely wanted to be apart from me to use the bathroom. The fact that she had run out the door, away from the safe confinement that the house offered, to get away from me meant it was better to let her be alone for a little.

I also needed a bit of space to process what had happened. She had clearly had a nightmare. One that stayed with her when she woke up. But her running had to be because she had pushed me, that she had, without meaning to and not really, hurt me.

She had looked devastated and fearful as she had told me sorry.

"Do you need to talk about it all?"

I turned around. Dad stood there and looked over my shoulder, out the door.

"She remembers everything," I told him as I had far from gotten a chance before me and Tamah had gone to bed the previous night. Then I looked out the door, towards the cluster of trees Tamah had disappeared into. "I don't know how I can help her."

"By being there for her. Support her. But the rest is up to her. You cannot fix her. But she can heal herself, given the time."

"Time," I snorted and turned back to him once more. "I only have nineteen days left with her. If she's not healed by then... I can't leave her like this."

"Then don't..."

"Cut that out." My eyes narrowed. "I have nineteen days. I've accepted that and nothing will change it. I won't put that responsibility on her."

"Do you think she wants to lose you? If she was given the choice, what do you think she would choose?" He smiled, but his tone was solemn, his eyes downcast. I could understand why he said what he did. He probably didn't want me to be lost, I was his daughter after all. But the option wasn't an option.

"I'll never force her to make that choice." I turned back and in my mind's eye, I watched as the green smoke entered her and how she became Lamia. I took a step out to go to her.

"You have to tell her at least. Tell her that your time is limited," Dad said, but that was also not something I planned on doing. She had enough of her own shit to deal with, I would not add to her worries.

I left and hurried over to the trees. As I reached them, I could hear snarls and trees breaking apart. I walked towards the sounds and what I saw surprised me. In all of Tamah's memories that I had seen, Lamia would always disappear when there was no one left to attack. But there in the forest, there was none, but she was anyway there.

She attacked and tore at trees. Clawed at them, hit them with her tail. But she also flung her own body against them, scrapped her skin, used them as a means to cause herself pain. As if she held so much anger that had no outlet that it turned against herself.

I took a step and a torn-off piece of bark crunched under my feet. She immediately turned to me, but she did not attack. That seemed to always be the case. Everyone else was fair game, she showed no mercy to anyone who crossed her path. Except me.

"Tamah," I said and moved even closer.

The yellow eyes were focused on me. She didn't blink. But as I took another step, she moved in unison closer to me. We met halfway and I stretched out my hand towards her cheek. As my hand landed on her, she let out a hiss and moved back. Then she screamed, raw and powerful and filled with pain, before she flung her body against a tree again.

"Tamah," I repeated, but she didn't stop. "Please don't hurt yourself," I went on. "Watching you hurt yourself hurts me."

She stopped again. She didn't look back, but leaned against a tree trunk, hugged it, though it more looked like she used the grip on it to not fall down to the forest floor.

"I'm not hurt, Tamah," I went on. "You didn't hurt me."

Her body trembled and she let out another scream. But it was weaker than the previous one. More subdued.

"Come back to me, Tamah."

The scales began to recede, but it was taking longer than usual.

"I'll always be here. There's nothing you can do to make me go away. And I want you to lean on me. I want to help you through it all."

She was back to herself, but she stayed by the tree, her head turned away from me.

"I've done awful things," she whispered. It was barely audible.

I wanted to refute her. Tell her it hadn't been her, that she bore no responsibility. But I knew she wouldn't listen to it. So I stayed quiet and waited for more.

"I killed many," she continued. Silence came again. It stretched on until she finally found the courage to say the worst of it all. "I killed my children."

"I know," I answered, and she turned her head around. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but through her sadness, I could see something else as well, a hint of disbelief. "But it wasn't really you that killed them," I continued. "You would never have harmed them. Lamia isn't you. Alright? I've seen that version of you and it isn't you. Can you trust me on that?"

She looked away again and gave no answer. I hadn't really expected it, knew that it would take time before she would believe that. If she ever would.

I walked over to her, put an arm around her waist. She let go of the tree and let me hug her. That was the best reaction I could dream of getting as of yet. She at least didn't try to run again or hide. She accepted my comfort.

"Come now. You have to be hungry. I am at least," I told her and made a new dress appear for her to wear before walking back to the house again.