Happy bank holiday Monday, friends! I considered skipping a Monday, but I‘m at work today, therefore this can post as planned, too.
Since this is a continuous series, I recommend you read the chapters in order. Catch up, or start at the beginning, here:
The evening dragged. Elena tried not to think about the book under her bed or the roses she needed growing in her mother’s garden. She shoved her food around her plate, too nervous to feel hungry. She ate a few carrots to stop her father from glaring.
After dinner, she waited. Her brother usually woke up around 11pm to get the glass of water he should have got before going to bed but which he never remembered. Her mother then got up at 4am to start baking that day’s wares. That gave her four hours, five tops if she was lucky.
Elena’s heart raced as she sat cross-legged on top of her duvet. She had memorised the recipe, but still wasn’t sure about actually making it, never mind using it.
You don’t have to use it right away. Won’t you feel so much better knowing that you can?
Her clammy hands closed around her blanket. She’d thrown it over her head, but that only amplified her doubts and the rushing in her ears.
Finally, the house went dark and silence settled over the rooms.
Elena was still dressed, and stole outside as quickly as she could without making a sound.
She used her mother’s garden shears to cut the roses as neatly as possible—her parents asking her about missing flowers wasn’t something she wanted to answer.
Her own desire.
One of Ralu’s hairs.
So simple. So wrong.
Elena rushed back to her room, and sank to the floor with the ingredients in her hands. She’d taken a glass of water when she’d gone to bed. Her parents wouldn’t question it; it was part of her evening ritual.
Now all she needed to do was brew the thing.
She took a deep breath, and went into the kitchen. It’d be much easier if it hadn’t been dark, but she didn’t dare turn the lights on. She added the petals of one rose to a sauce pan, and poured the water over them. Slowly brought them to the boil until she could smell the roses.
Just in case the smell lingered into the morning, Elena had placed the other two roses into a vase. An apology for the bad sales, should her mother ask.
And all the while she thought of Ralu. The way she smiled—the way she could smile only at Elena. The way she could hold only Elena. The way her lips could brush only Elena’s.
Elena took a small bottle out of the cabinet, and drained the rose and desire-infused water into it. She washed up, dried the pot and put it back into the cabinet.
Now all she needed was a lock of Ralu’s soft brown hair.
And she knew just how to get it.
End of Chapter Seven
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For all other chapters, click here.
All writing belongs to the author, Sarina Langer
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