Chapter six: Beyond the Grave

Lucas Carter's POV

Surviving. It's a never-ending battle.

Sometimes I can't help but wonder, what if I didn't make it? Maybe I would be with my mom right now. Would that have been better? Was it just a stroke of luck that I survived?

Survival means different things to different people. For me, I haven't truly survived yet.

Each step I took felt heavy as I entered the house. Memories of my mother flooded my mind, leaving me with a lump in my throat.

"Lucas? You're here!"

I stood there, unable to find my voice, as a woman appeared in the kitchen. She wore a genuine smile, her eyes sparkled, and her long black hair was neatly tied up.

"Mom?" I managed to utter.

I was in disbelief, trembling like a leaf. Her smile, her eyes, her straight nose... I hadn't seen them in so long.

"Lucas? Come on! Don't just stand there, come sit down." Her voice was soothing, and I missed it dearly.

I awkwardly sat at the dining table, feeling a whirlwind of confusion. Was I dreaming? Or was I hallucinating?

"Here, I cooked your favorite dish. You used to love this when you were little," she said, placing the food on the table. I mustered an awkward smile, my mind filled with bewilderment.

"Is this real?" I stuttered, everything seemed surreal to me.

But wasn't she supposed to be dead?

I vividly remembered witnessing her fall to the floor, her last breath slipping away. It was etched in my mind.

There were only three possibilities swirling in my head. First, maybe I was hallucinating. Second, perhaps it was all just a dream. And third, was I seeing a ghost?

What do you think?

She chuckled, removing the hairnet from her head and tossing it playfully in my direction.

"You're seeing me, I'm right here!" Tears welled up in my eyes. It wasn't a dream, she was really there. "Lucas, are you okay?" she asked, waving her hand in front of me. Overwhelmed with joy, I embraced her tightly. My mother was there, even if I couldn't comprehend how or why. "You've missed me so much, haven't you?" she giggled, gently patting my head.

I couldn't contain the happiness that radiated from my face. It felt like a dream come true. I didn't question the how or why, I simply cherished the moment.

Or should I have questioned it?

"Alright, now you should eat. You're acting strange. I hope you're doing well with your father," she teased.

If there was ever a day I didn't want to end, it was that day. I wasn't fully healed, but I thought maybe it was better that way. I longed for my memories, but I believed that was the end of it. Was there anything else to look forward to?

But deep down, I knew that someday I would have to face the truth.

I never expected to meet and talk to my mom again. We spent a wonderful time together, just like old times.

"You've grown up so quickly, Lucas. How are you getting along with your father?" she asked, while we sat together. I enjoyed my meal, savoring every bite.

"Good. Don't worry, Mom. Dad is nice, and so is my brother," I replied. Her eyes filled with contentment, and it warmed my heart. "But it's not the same without you, Mom."

"I'm glad to hear that. I'm so happy for you," she said, gently holding my hand.

A smile lit up my face. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I couldn't remember everything, but I was incredibly happy. I might wake up any moment, or perhaps it was all just a figment of my imagination, but I didn't dwell on that.

It was a brief moment of light. Many things still remained unclear. The darkness doesn't always hide the worst; sometimes it's the light that conceals the truth.

I didn't know the full story of my parents' relationship, but one thing was certain: I didn't feel ashamed of being an illegitimate child. I loved my mother, and I was grateful. Grateful beyond words.

"What took you so long, Son?" Dad asked as I entered the house. My cheeks raised in a smile, overflowing with excitement. Just the other day, I was filled with despair, but now I was on cloud nine. "You seem to be having a good day. What happened, Son?" Dad exclaimed, a smirk forming on his face. My joy was contagious.

"I saw Mom! I got to talk to her!" I exclaimed, unable to contain my enthusiasm. Seeing one's mother might be an ordinary occurrence for some, but for me, it was a momentous occasion. It felt like a missing piece of myself had been restored, but it wasn't enough.

I expected my dad to share in my excitement, but his expression quickly changed.

"You must be joking, right?"

Life is unpredictable. Is it that we don't know what comes next, or is it that we can't distinguish what's real from what's not?

I made my way towards the living room, passing him by.

"No, I'm not joking! I really saw her, Dad! She even cooked my favorite meal!" I babbled, filled with excitement.

His lack of reaction puzzled me. He looked at me as if he couldn't make heads or tails of what I was saying.

It was strange, but could anything be stranger?

"You're acting strange, Dad. I'm going to rest now," I said, heading towards my room.

As I lay on my bed, I took out the locket my mom had given me eight years ago.

There was nothing left for me to be happy about.

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