Emma Makonel.
Why not Emma Drackson? When was the name changed? Or was it her real name?
Emma cocked her head to the side, unconsciously ruminating on this matter and the other details of the dream. However this one stood out. A change in her name.
“Emma, what are you thinking about?”
The question drew Emma out of her thoughts into the present, into the real world where she was having dinner with her family. She noticed the three were looking at her with a querying look, and shrugged her shoulders, indicating nothing.
She wondered what her family would do if they found out what she had seen this last month in the place where they had sent her to school, and bit back a chuckle, imagining her father’s incredulous face.
Emma Makonel.
She would use the google after dinner, after the family meeting that her father had claimed they had to have after this dinner.
Her mother looked like she wanted to inquire more, but then stopped short as if held back by an invisible force, and returned to her food of spaghetti and meatballs.
Well, there was that.
She was also curious about what they had to say during the meeting. She would have loved to wish that they would want her back here, that they would ask that she transfer schools probably to Amelia’s, even though she wouldn’t be seeing Freya there again since she would now stay with Aiden, hee history professor. Yet, she would have made this wish, but she knew that wasn’t what her father had wanted for her.
No, the meeting was for something else, something entirely different, something related to his last statement which had been filled with sadness before he had let her have the bed rest after she had punished June.
Emma felt it deep within her bones, and it was probably the reason why she didn’t eat dinner like she would have wanted to, why her birthday tomorrow wasn’t giving her the normal dose of excitement and more since she would be eighteen, a full fledged adult.
The meeting not yet held was a sinking feeling in her gut.
**
“Amelia, you can head to your room now. This wouldn’t take so long. You will see Emma soon. We just need to talk to her alone.”
Amelia furrowed her eyebrows, her incredulous expression seen expressly in the well lighted sitting room. But she turned away and walked toward her room. They heard the door to her room shut, and then Mr. Jason cleared his throat.
But Emma’s now sensitive ears picked up Amelia’s scent, and the fact that her sister was now by the sitting room’s door. Stealth.
It surprised Emma. How her sister had gotten this good in tiptoeing. If she hadn’t been madly sensitive to the core because of this meeting, she probably wouldn’t have picked up the steps or the scent. For how long had Amelia done this? Eavesdrop on a conversation. Where had she learnt the act? Mr Tammy?
There were times, before England, before college, before Derek, that she had thought Amelia possessed some powers. Powers that included knowing things before they happened and some kind of strength. But Amelia had always divulged in laughter when Emma teased her about it.
Thinking about it now, Emma was almost sure that Amelia had been trained too. But by whom? She had never seen her sister at Mr Tammy’s place. And if she had been there. Mr Tammy would have told her.
“Emma, I know you will be wondering why we called you here…”
Of course she was wondering, but Emma was divided on whether to call out Amelia. Yet, she knew she wouldn’t do it. Amelia wouldn’t do the same to her.
“Well, I don’t know the best way to say this, but….”
Emma watched her mother place her hand over her father’s as if lending him her strength. She watched her father inhale a deep breath as if he had actually received strength, watched his eyes clear out of any emotions.
This wouldn’t be good news. She knew it. She steeled her heart to be in a good condition to receive the news. A cold condition.
“You are not our daughter, Emma.”
Emma remained unmoved.
That would explain the Emma Makonel. She only mused, before listening again to the words coming out of her father’s mouth, or was it foster father? Where was her father then? Where was her mother? This would mean that Freya had been right. Prescott too. Had it been a good idea to come here without Freya?
“Emma…please listen… I know this is hard to take in….”
Emma wanted to assure them that she was okay, seeing the tear sheen in her mother’s eyes. If she survived Derek, she could survive anything. She believed.
“It’s okay, Dad. I hear you. Just keep talking. How did I come to be in your hands?” She asked, more worried about Amelia who she knew had taken a sharp inhale when their father had dropped the first bombshell.
“According to the woman that had dropped you at our doorstep…”
“Please could you be more detailed? I want to know everything and everyone. Names, places and all that. Who is the woman, and what was your relationship with her?” Emma asked, interrupting Mr Jason mid sentence.
Mr. Jason swallowed, and then looked at his wife. “It’s okay. She deserves to know everything now. She will be eighteen once the clock strikes at midnight. We need to be done before then.”
What were they talking about? What did they mean by the last statement? Should something happen if she turned eighteen? Emma wondered, looking at the big clock on the wall. It was half past nine.
Two hours and thirty minutes more for whatever it is that wanted to happen, apart from her adding a new year.
***
Yodah watched as Eva played around with the food on her plate as if she had no appetite, as if it wasn’t her favorite that her mother had prepared and felt a huge unease.
What was happening? What had unleashing that amount of power done to her?
He had an ominous feeling that Eva wasn’t Eva now.
***
“Don’t come back here, until you get the girl with red hair, the one who killed you. This is the chance to get your revenge. Don’t waste it.” Leonarya spoke to Casper’s ghost, after she had altered a few of his memories, portraying Emma as a villain.