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Eurydice’s blood ran cold as the lady stepped into the bar.
That grin, that glint in her eyes, the way she lit up the room. It took every ounce of her willpower to not run to her and bury her face into her chest. She was certain it was her brain playing tricks on her—as often the brain will do when exhausted and unfed—and yet, a little voice in the back of her head told her she wasn’t seeing a ghost but rather her mother, flesh and blood again.
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The last time Eurydice had seen her mama, they’d sat cuddled up around the fireplace. At the time, brother, her mama was sick and getting sicker. Her daddy—having been in a nasty accident that had rendered his left arm all but useless—did his best to keep providing for his little family, but the odds of anyone hiring a one-handed laborer were slim to none. Before the accident they’d barely been able to make ends meet, as Sparta had been let go and Lacedaemon felt that Eurydice was still too young to “work herself into the ground” as he put it, but they managed with what they had and that was all that mattered. Now, the worry that they’d lose what little they had left gave Eurydice no choice but to go against her father’s wishes, trying and failing to find work.
On that fateful night, there was a knock on the door. Lacedaemon answered it to find a short, stout, balding man who quite resembled a bulldog by the name of Cyril, their landlord. He looked past Lacedaemon, a predatory grin lighting his face as his eyes met Eurydice’s. Her daddy stepped in his way, blocking his view.
“Rather late for a call, ain’t it?” he’d asked, voice tight. Cyril had scoffed. “I can come and go as I please, per our agreement,” he responded, his nasal voice making Eurydice shiver. Her mama had taken her hand then, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Besides, I’ve got something for ya,” he’d continued, handing Lacedaemon a stack of folded papers. He’d stared at them blankly. “You know I don’t understand this,” he muttered. Cyril’s shrill laugh would echo in Eurydice’s nightmares for years. He’d motioned for her father to come closer, whispering something that made his shoulders sag. “Pa…?”
“You can’t do this,” he’d said slowly, voice dangerously low. “Can’t I?” was the response, smug smirk on his ugly face.
“It’s illegal. We ain’t been late on not one of our payments.”
“Yet,” he spat. “Given you and your wife’s…conditions, I hear your girl’s looking for work, or am I mistaken?”
Eurydice stood then, leaving her mother’s side to join her father. He’d tensed up as he heard her approach, though he hadn’t looked at her.
“Speak of the songbird. You do sing, dont’cha? Or was it just your mama’s looks you inherited?”
Her father had put his good hand on her shoulder, reassuringly squeezing though she’d never be certain if it was for him or her. Eurydice had nodded slowly.
Cyril eyed her, beady eyes glinting. “Cat got your tongue?”
“N-No sir,” she’d said, almost in a whisper.
He grinned. “Pretty and respectful, you’d be perfect in my establishment. What do you say?” Her father took a sharp breath. “I appreciate your offer, but I don’t know much about liquor.”
He laughed again. “Goodnight, Mr. Moxon,” her father said, clenching his jaw as he turned away. When Eurydice turned to follow, Cyril, moving faster than a man of his size should’ve been capable of, shot out his hand and grabbed her by the wrist. She squirmed against his sweaty grip. “Aw, come now. I’d pay you more than your daddy has ever made. I can give you the life you deserve, sweetheart. All you’d have to do is be m-”
Before Eurydice could blink, Cyril was down on his back in the snow, Lacedaemon’s wild swings connecting loudly with his jaw. It took her a second to process what she was witnessing as Cyril’s two lackeys seemed to melt out of the shadows as they came upon her father, who, in his rage, managed to connect punches to the both of them before they began to beat him.
“PA!” Eurydice ran towards them, seeing his blood stain the snow a bright red. He could do little with his useless arm and he took the full brunt of their punches before Eurydice threw herself over him, shielding him with her body. Both lackeys froze, looking at each other in confusion before turning their attention to their fallen boss, who was moaning and groaning.
She tried to take in the extent of his injuries: eye purple and swelling, lip busted, tooth knocked out, nose out of sorts. She tried and failed to mask her sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Lacedaemon lifted his good arm to wipe away her tears. “Shh, sh, it’s alright ‘dice,” he’d muttered through bloody teeth. Behind them, she heard a string of profanities from Cyril.
“You’re insane! You’ll pay for this, you hear me? DO YOU KNOW WHO I A-”
A shot rang out, the bullet embedding itself in the tree next to Cyril’s head. They all turned to see Sparta holding Lacedaemon’s hunting rifle.
“Leave now, Cyril Moxon. I will not miss again.”
Cyril’s lackeys helped him up and they scrambled towards their waiting car, where the driver waited. “You’ll regret this. Mark my words girl, I’ll be back!!” he yelled directly at Eurydice as he was pushed into the car. Sparta raised the rifle again, this bullet finding the driver side mirror. They sped away, the silence falling over the three of them deafening.
Eurydice’s mama made her way towards them, face unreadable. “Grab him on that side gently, Eurydice,” she said as she helped him sit up. “Use this, Daemon,” she said, coughing as she gave him the rifle to use as a crutch.
“...’m fine,” he muttered as they helped him to his feet. “S-Shouldn’t be…out in the cold…” she waved him off. “Won’t be out here much longer if we get you up quick,” she said, earning a soft chuckle from him. Eurydice, in turn, found no such amusement. Being rendered temporarily mute, she moved automatically. When she tried to remember the events afterwards from that night, she found that there were blank spaces, though she knew that when she blinked her pa was patched up in bed and she was sitting by the fireplace. She blinked again and her mama’s hand was on her cheek.
“You alright, honeybee?”
Except, it wasn’t her mama.
She turned to look at her eyes that were kind, full of a little worry, but the wrong shade of brown. As she smiled softly at her, the missing birthmark under her lip and her dimple on the wrong cheek became suddenly apparent. Eurydice turned her head towards the fireplace and found it bigger than the one that was in her home. The smooth wooden floors were wrong too. She scrambled to stand, turning back to her not-mama and staring at her wide eyed.
“I…”
She met the eyes of Mr. Hermes, who was at the other end of the bar but whose eyebrows were scrunched with worry. The air was sucked out of the room. She took a step back. “I…I’m sorry,” she mumbled before turning on her heels, stumbling over her own feet as she ran outside.
“Wait-”
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Eurydice ran hard and fast until her lungs burned and her legs gave out. She fell to her knees, unsure of where she was. She put her head in her hands and screamed till her throat was raw, tears streaming down her face as she sat with her back to a tree, knees pulled up to her chest. She buried her face in her arms, willing whatever strange nightmare she was in to end.
“Honeybee?”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“C’mere, sweet girl.”
She shut her eyes tightly as she lifted her head. “Mama?” she called.
“There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for-oh my goodness, what happened?”
Eurydice looked down and found both of her knees raw and bloody. Her mother came closer, though the moon wasn’t bright enough for her to be able to tell if she was real or not. “You’re bleeding,” she said, reaching out to touch her face.
When she did, Eurydice could see her clearly. It was her mama, healthy and whole. And Eurydice felt like a child again.
“I’m sorry, mama,” she said, throwing her arms around her neck and burying her face in her shoulder. Her mother wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly, soothing her as she heard her call for someone. She heard a man’s voice, pa, she thought, though it was muffled and faint. She dared not look up, fearing that if she did, she’d lose them again.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” she heard her father say as he picked her up, strong arms holding her steady.
———————————
When she came to, she found herself lying in bed, sheets tucked up to her chin. She was vaguely aware of the bandages on her knees, and the smaller one on her face. Just then the door opened and there her mama stood, the light behind her casting a shadow over her face while illuminating her like a goddess. She smiled at her in relief.
“You’re awake,” she said softly. “I missed you, mama,” Eurydice responded. She froze in the doorway. “You won’t leave again, will you?”
A beat.
“Never, honeybee,” came the choked up response. “Thank you,” she said, opening her arms for an embrace. She complied, holding her close.
She didn’t notice her mama’s missing birthmark.