Her Mother’s Footsteps

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The room was nearly empty, only the few stragglers remaining in the room were there to witness her triumphant defeat and escape. It seemed her entire life had been dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge, of the answer to the great mystery. 

It had taken her all of three weeks to dig herself out of the grave of her mother. It had taken her years to move on and learn, to overcome all obstacles that came along with it. It had taken her years to realize what she truly was. 

And now she was walking across this stage, in front of the entire audience. Her entire life had been dedicated to learning that secret she so desperately wanted to find out, to experience this moment. It was the only thing that mattered to her now. 

It was the only thing that was making her walk, despite her mother’s warning. 

With one hand at the small of her back, the other on her shoulder, Amélie started forward towards the center of the stage. She looked around at the entire audience, her face held calm and composed, as she was told she should. 

She was a performer. 

She had never believed that when she was younger, she would be in the spotlight, not behind it, being seen for her talents. 

But, now, she was finally seeing the light. The light that led her through her mother’s deception. The light that brought light to her darkness. 

She was standing before the crowd, facing them, and was she ever nervous? Or excited? Amélie felt as if she was, if not more than a performer now. She was finally going to learn what she wanted to know. 

The crowd erupted.

Amélie couldn’t help it. She ran through the crowd, not caring that some of the other performers were staring in disbelief and shock, but running forward. 

She stopped short in front of the stage, breathing heavily. 

“You,” she said, and then took a deep breath, taking another deep breath. “I’m sorry, people.” She began again, with a much less confident voice, “I’m not very good at this…” She looked around, trying to find a fitting way of using the word ‘satisfied’ but ending up saying it too quickly. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking around. 

“I wanted to see you, Amélie. I knew you’d like me in here.” She looked around again, hoping that the others around the stage would understand what she meant. 

“Thank you, I guess,” she whispered. “I was just wondering…” she trailed off, looking at the floor. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes,” she heard a voice, and it took her a moment to realize that it was one of the women standing beside her. 

“Are you sure?” the woman asked, leaning in towards Amélie. 

Amélie felt as though she could breathe again. “Yes, I am,” she replied. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“I know,” the woman replied. “I know.” 

Amélie looked up at her. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes,” she said, and then let out a deep breath. 

“I guess I’m ready,” Amélie replied. She was ready. “I’m so ready.” 

“Me too.” 

“I know that we’ve been separated for some time now.” 

“You know that I’m not going to leave you now, right?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“I know that I will miss you,” Amélie said, her voice quiet. 

“And I love you,” the woman said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“I love you too,” Amélie replied. She looked up at the woman. “Let’s take this on for the both of us.”

Amélie reached out and took the woman’s hand. It felt as if they had all been molded into one person, she was sure of it. 

“Together.”

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