-• white •-

Present Day

December cold has to be my favourite time of all. I love the snow, the way it dwells on the roadsides and on the roof of the houses, like soft blankets confining the remains of autumn, it's mesmerizing. White is my favourite color. Something about it compels me to think about nice, positive things. I believe color impacts our mindset the most. That's the reason I love to paint. I can make the sky green, the grass blue, the sea yellow, and it would still be as beautiful. I'm in the control of the world that I create on a canvas, it's intriguing. My mother says we humans strive on control, and whether we believe it or not, we sought it in the littlest things. I think painting is my escape to gain control, for the world I live is in quite bleak and not so white.

"Morning, Tara!" A cheerful voice calls out to me.

I grin and wave. "Morning, Dave. Can I steal a rose?"

He shakes his head in a warning.

"Oh, c'mon," I pout to melt him. It usually works. "It's for Mumma,"

He sighs in defeat and allows me to steal a star from his colorful sky. I choose the white one. My favourite. "Thank you, Dave. Have a great day!"

He waves me off.

I chuckle and resume my way back home.

"For your age, you should be sleeping until the sun rises fully, my love," I hear Aunt July say as I unlock the front door of my house. I look past the fence that seperates us and give her a beaming smile.

"I get full sleep, Aunt July," I announce. "You should be worrying about those dark circles under your eyes. Are you not using the cream your son brought for you on his last trip back home?"

She blushes. "I do! But it's so expensive. I use very little."

I can't help but simper. "Stop being so cheap, Aunt July. Doesn't suit you."

"Hush you, money should be spent wisely. You'll understand that when you start earning." She advises.

"Does being rich really makes life easy?" I ask her curiously.

"I don't know. I've never been rich." She shrugs.

"Mumma says it does. I wish I was born rich." I sigh wistfully.

"Marry a rich man then. That's the easiest way to get rich. You're still sixteen, you've so much time." Aunt July winks at me. "I wish I had done that in my age." She looks down at the ground feigning pity for herself.

I laugh. "The next time I come over for tea and cookies, I'm gonna tell this to Uncle Jack."

She gasps. "You tattletale!"

I stick my tongue out at her before rushing inside the house, the empty four walls echoing with my giggles. I barely stop before the realisation of my reality sinks in. My smile drops and the white in my life fades, taking a dark grey shade in my head, blinding me with its darkness.

I look around the house, finding myself reflected in the past memories we created here. We were so happy, so content, always short on money, but we got through the days.

But then it all changed when she fell sick. So sick she can't even get out of her bed now. I remember doctor uncle always use to tell her to get enough rest, but she never did. She worked day shifts, night shifts, over and over, for money to keep the house running, exhausting her beautiful youth and healthy body in the process.

I understand why she says money solves all the problems. Only if we had enough money, she could have been admitted to a special room and her surgery wouldn't have delayed to the point it's now impossible to get one without the risk of her dying.

"Don't, Tara," I shake my head to drive out the dark thoughts. If I stay positive and happy, I'll be able to offer the same to those around me. And right now, Mumma needs this positivity.

Turning on the lights in the room, I drop my bag on the couch and make my way towards the kitchen. These past few months I've been living with my best friend at her house. Thankfully, her family is well off. The aforementioned doctor uncle? That's her father. Garett Williams. He is the most kind and humble man I've had the fortune of meeting. I hope this surgery works out and mom comes out healthy and fine. I can't go into details since I barely know anything about her condition. But it's definitely a tumor in the brain.

Christmas is around the corner and I wish to spend it with my mother. My only family.

I open the refrigerator to fish out the needed ingredients. Last night when I dropped by at the hospital for a moment, Mumma expressed her wish to try something sweet. So I decide to make eggless banana pancakes, fruit salad and Quinoa upma.

It's only five thirty in the morning so I've enough time to get done with the breakfast and prepare for school. I'll probably be late by ten or fifteen minutes, but that's okay. At this point, glancing back at my past record of tardiness, it's normal for me.

By six forty five I was done.

I pack the breakfast in three different tiffins and stack them in the tiffin bag. I quickly rush into the living room and change into my school uniform. Grabbing my backpack and breakfast bag from the dining table, I head out to the hospital. It takes me ten minutes to reach the place and then five more minutes to get to the general ward.

Mumma stirs awake hearing the rustling. I open the curtains to let the sunlights in. I was glad when the hospital assigned her a bed beside the window that overlooked the busy streets and buildings. It works as a good distraction. The staff here is also friendly, and considering my mother has worked with them for over twenty years, they treat her like a family. Frequent check ups, a little bit of chat, food drop off, and passing her smiles during their rounds are few of the employee benefits that didn't make it into the employee contract but helps one foster in the professional circle.

"How many times did I tell you to not come here on school days?" She scolds me the first thing in the morning.

I simply smile and drop a peck on her forehead, offering her the beautiful rose before altering the bed in the uprising position. It helps her sit up without disturbing the IV drip. I place the make shift table atop and unpack all the food.

"You said you craved to eat something sweet last night, so here you go!" I open the tiffin box containing pancakes and feed her a bite. She accepts it hesitantly.

"Tara," she looks up at me in disappointment.

"Don't worry, Mumma. I still have thirty minutes before the school starts."

"You're going to run again, aren't you?" She asks me with a sigh.

"It keeps me fit!" I defend.

"Tara, if you keep this up, they'll have to arrange a bed next to me for you. Please stop doing this, my love. You're going to exhaust yourself!"

I feed her another bite to silence her constant rambling.

"I'm fine."

"Tara-" her voice comes out muffled.

"Uff, young woman, stop scolding her so much." The bedside patient says. We both look at the older woman who offers me a pleasant smile. "You're lucky to have a daughter like her. Look at me, I'm here from last one week but none of my kids even bothered to check up on me with a call." She states sadly.

I feel a tug at my heart hearing that. "What are you saying?" I get up with the tiffin of fruit salad. "So rude of them!" I set down the tiffin and sit by her side. "It's okay, I'm here. I'll ask you. How are you? Are you fine? You look amazing to me! I'm sure you're getting out of here in no time!"

The woman chuckles. "You're so sweet." She cups my cheek.

"So is the food prepared by me." I proclaim. "I've cut these fruits myself, then added some honey, some condensed milk and a whole lot of love. Try it!" I offer her the spoon.

She nods, scooping out the salad with a spoon and putting it in her mouth. Her eyes widens in surprise. "This is amazing!"

"I want to try it too," the uncle beside her bed says. I nod eagerly and grab the paper cups from my bag before filling a little bit of fruit salad for the remaining two patients in the room. The nurse helps us by getting two more spoons from the cafeteria.

"Do you always keep paper cups with you?" Mumma asks me while I eat my upma.

"No," I answer, my voice muffled because of the food in my mouth. "We've this DIY art and craft session today, they told us to bring paper cups from home." I shrug.

Mumma nods.

I leave the hospital at seven forty five and practically marathon-run my way to the school. The gates were about to close when I make it inside. The guard gives me a disapproving look. I shrug innocently.

"Go now, it's been five minutes since the final bell rang." He informs.

I pull the slipping strap of my backpack back over my shoulder and rush to the front doors. I take stairs to the first floor and then turn left to reach my class.

All the classmates stare at me like I'm a prehistoric artifact displayed in the glass case at the British museum while I huff pathetically at the doorstep. I definitely need some lung practice before they collapse like my will to live.

"Tara, again late?" My form teacher looks at me disappointedly.

I sigh aloud. "My mum's at the hospital, Miss. I've to look after her."

There's no easy way out of difficult situations than making yourself appear pitiful.

Her eyes softens and she looks at me with a gentle smile. "I understand. But don't make it a habit, okay?"

At this point, it is.

I nod nonetheless.

"Go to your seat," she instructs.

I quickly walk inside and slide on my seat beside my bestfriend. Janet passes me a smile before updating me with what I've missed. I grab my books and pencil case from the bag, focusing on the board so as to not disturb the teacher further.

The classes clock out as per the schedule. I sit and try to learn, mostly getting distracted by the view outside the school windows, sometimes doodling on the back of my notebook, and other times shaking my leg so hard even the whole desk vibrates.

When it is finally the short recess, I stretch my arms back and my bones pop. I heave a relieved sigh. Just as I drop my arms to my side, a bottle of chocolate milk is placed on my desk. I look up to see the kind of eyes of our class monitor. My brows shoot up in surprise.

She offers me a beautiful smile. "You look exhausted. You should have it."

"Thank you." I smile back gratefully.

She shrugs and walk away.

Another comes and offers me a packet of gum. "I saw you dozing off in the middle of calculus. This will keep you awake."

"Thanks!"

"Tara!" Someone calls out from the indistinct chatter. I focus and realise it is Sam, the guy who has a big fat crush on me. He enters the class and keeps an energy bar on my desk. "Eat it. You look pale."

I smile. "Thank you," I say sweetly.

He blushes dark red before nodding hurriedly and walking away.

"Wow," Janet rises from her sleeping position, resting the side of her face in the cup of her hand. "You're really exploiting the whole 'my mother's admitted in the hospital scenario' aren't you?"

I roll my eyes. "It's not a surprise I'm struggling, Janet. Why not take the minimum benefits I get from this situation?"

She nods. "Makes sense." She removes the box of cookies from her bag. "Mom made these for you. Your mother's in the hospital, isn't she? My mother feels bad." She offers with the fakest sympathetic expressions I've ever seen. It makes me double over in amusement. I end up laughing at her face.

"Thank you!" I chirp and snatch the box from her, shoving the sweet goody in my mouth.

She shakes her head but joins me in the fun. I love Janet.

When the recess finishes, we're escorted to the chemistry lab by the teacher. I throw my straight long black hair in a bun and wear the shower cap before walking to my assigned desk. Chemistry is the one subject alongside Biology that I find bearable. Maths and Physics on the other hand can rot in the hell. The subjects I enjoy the most are History, languages, and oh, art. They are the most fun. That reminds me, PE is next. Which is so not fun.

Ugh, so detesting.

When the bells rings, I slump-walk back to the class. The PE teacher comes in less than five minutes and takes us to the sport hall.

"Today we'll play Dodgeball." The teacher announces. "There will be two teams-"

"Girls verses boys!?" Someone chimes expectantly.

"No," the teacher deadpans. "Mixed." He adds, drawing out grunts of frustration from the boys. The girls give them a look of offense.

"Sir," I raise my hand.

The man looks at me in question.

"Can I sit this one out?" I request.

"No."

"Sir, I'm not feeling well." I add pitifully.

"You look fine enough to me." He states.

"Sir, she has to take care of her sick mother after school. Let her sit out, please." The class monitor says on my behalf.

The PE teacher contemplates for a moment before giving in with a nod.

I hold back the smile of victory and turn to leave the main court. Janet grips my wrist, pouting at me for leaving her out.

"Sir, Janet says she has period cramps." I announce loudly, ignoring the panicked look on my best friend's face. "Can she sit out too?" I request.

The poor man appears flustered. He allows us with a wave of his hand and focuses back on his writing board. I drag my friend towards the bleachers.

"Why would you say that?" She hisses at me as we climb the stairs.

"What else reason could I have come up with?" I shrug and point to the last two seats of the second empty row. She follows me obediently.

We sit down and I exhale a relieved sigh.

"You're really something," I hear her comment. Not as a compliment, unfortunately.

"How so?" I chuckle.

"Other people hate to be pitied. You use it to get your way. Isn't it embarrassing?"

I look at her blankly. "My mother says, as someone without power, we on the lowest hierarchy of the mankind, has to be pitied to survive."

She blinks at me uncomfortably. "That sounds wise and not at the same time."

"Because that's the reality." I state. "How many people here do you think would jump at the chance to bully me if I act all prideful of my situation? I need some good ones on my side to keep the bad ones at the distance. These people feel good about themselves when they help someone they think are falling apart. Why should I act like I'm doing fine on my own when I'm clearly not? I'd rather be pitiful than lonely and defenseless."

She sighs. "You're right. But it just doesn't feel right."

I smile. "You're lucky to have the luxury to feel like that. Now look ahead, the game's getting interesting." I pat her knee to focus ahead.

School ends at four.

Janet's mom comes to pick us from the school. She drops me off at my house as usual.

"Come home soon," she calls out from the window of her car. I smile at her in response.

I head inside the house and drop my bag on the couch before washing up and changing into a comfortable pair of clothes. I clean the house, vacuum the floor, wash the morning dishes and cook dinner for my mother. I was done by six thirty. As usual, it takes me ten minutes to walk to the hospital and another five to reach her ward. I serve her the dinner, and offer a little bit of it to everyone else. She makes me sit by her side, insisting she feeds me by her own hands.

"Mumma, I made it for you!"

"You should eat it, Tara." The doctor comes, smiling at me softly. "Your mother's surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning. She can't eat before the surgery."

"Oh," I whisper, swallowing the unease bubbling in my throat. My mother's frail hand reaches out to cup mine and I exhale a shuddering breath. "She'll be fine, right?" I look at her doctor in worry.

He smiles in reassurance. "We'll do our best."

"Can't you just say she'll be all right?" I tilt my head to the side sadly.

He sighs softly, not offering me a positive response, neither a negative one.

I feel the heaviness in my chest grow.

"You can drink water, but don't eat anything heavy before the surgery." He instructs my mother one last time before leaving the ward.

"You've to come back to me, okay?" I whisper to my mother.

She nods at me with a teary smile.

"I won't forgive you if you leave me." I warn her.

She sniffles before reaching beneath her pillow for a piece of paper. I frown when she offers it to me. I take it and look at her in question.

"If- if something goes wrong, reach out to this Mail ID. Add your name as the subject and then send it."

"An empty mail?" My brows knit together.

She nods. "It's enough to get the message delivered. Whoever comes, follow whatever they say, okay?"

I clutch the paper tightly in my fist, nodding hesitantly at her.

"I'll head home then," I get up to leave. Mumma grabs my wrist, surprising me with the action. She has never done that, holding me back from leaving. She always asks me to leave before the sun falls.

"Stay," she whispers, guiding me back to the chair.

I obey wordlessly.

She takes my hand in hers and caresses it lovingly. "Remember the story I used to tell you when you were little?"

I nod. "The Prince and the Commoner's story. But you never told me it's end."

She chuckles. "Because you always fell asleep before I could get to the end!" She boops my nose gently.

I smile sheepishly. "Well, I'm awake now and all ears. Tell me!"

She leans back on the bed. "Where did I stop the last time?"

"Uhm, I think when the little princess was born!"

"Right," she nods, looking at me fondly. "The little princess was a blessing for Red."

"What did she name the princess?"

"Esther," mom replies.

"Why Esther?" I ask curiously.

"Esther means to hide or conceal. And Red wanted just that. To hide her daughter from the rest of the world so no one comes and takes her away."

"What about the Prince?" I ask worriedly.

"He left," Mom answers. "Red asked him to never come back."

"So cruel. Why would she do that?"

"He had a wife." Mom looks down at me.

"But he never loved that woman. And that woman was not nice. She broke Red and the Prince apart!"

"Tara, she didn't break them apart. It was the prince's cowardliness that ended his relationship with Red."

"I don't like any of them." I declare and lean back on my chair. "What kind of fairy tale is this? No one gets their happiness. And Red? She is the most pathetic of all. Why would she go back to him despite knowing he is married to someone else?"

"She loved him."

"If love makes you so pathetic, I won't ever fall in love."

Mumma nods. "That's a wise decision. But if you ever fall in love, be the courageous one. If you both end up being cowards who can only love each other from shadows, it'll bring you nothing but pain."

"Whatever." I wave my hand off and lean in curiously, crossing my arms on the bed. "Tell me about Esther. What happened to her?"

My mother shrugs. "Esther has yet to find her own story."

I grunt. "Mumma, this is like the most frustrating story. It gets nowhere!" I throw my hands in the air.

She laughs.

"I'm hungry and I've so many assignments to finish. I'll see you tomorrow." I get up from the chair and pick up my backpack. "I better see you tomorrow smiling and talking to me," I warn her.

She nods at me with a smile.

I leave the hospital thinking of my favourite color. Janet's home was at a walking distance of fifteen minutes . Their German Shepherd, Apollo, greets me at the gates. I bend to pat him a few times before climbing the stairs of the porch. Janet's mother asks me on the update of my mother's health and I inform her about the surgery. She passes me a smile of encouragement and tells me to head upstairs where Janet is waiting for me.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. The next day, I wake up earlier than usual. Mumma's surgery was scheduled at nine in the morning and would take upto five hours to finish. I just hope everything goes well. I visit the church to offer my prayers to the God and kneel before him for my mother's successful recovery. I sit at the benches for God knows how long before my phone finally blares in my pocket.

I fish it out and see Dr. Garett's name flash on the screen. I answer reluctantly, my heart practically in my mouth.

"Tara, come to the hospital."

"Wh-Why? The surgery was successful, right?"

"Come to the hospital, Tara." He repeats.

"Tell me she's fine!" I beg, my voice breaking in between.

"Tara-"

"Please, just tell me!" I cry out desperately, gaining attention from the people around me.

"We all knew the risk was high, Tara." He starts pitifully. And for the first time, I hate that tone. I hate that he sounds pitiful. I hate it. "There was so much bleeding. The tissues surrounding her tumor-"

"Just tell me!"

"She is brain dead, Tara."

The phone slips from my hand and clatters to the ground.

"Tara? Tara!?"

It echoes.

His words, the noises around me, all of it echoes in my head. Incomprehensible, impossible to understand.

The people rushing towards me fades in the mass of blurry mess as I collapse on the ground.

And the black consumes me.

There's the first chapter.

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