The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 159

The sharp sting from the thorn in her finger acted like a switch, instantly unlocking the memories sealed within her body. Annelise slowly unfurled her tightly clenched hand, the knuckles stark white. Across her palm, deep, pale crescent indentations silently testified to a past she thought she had already buried.

She turned off the faucet and stared at her pale reflection in the mirror. Looking at herself, she took a long, deep breath. Once, twice, ten times. She kept breathing until she managed to forcefully suppress the suffocating dread rising from the depths of her chest.

She thought she had moved on. She thought she had completely destroyed the weak, submissive Annelise who was accustomed to silently enduring the pain. But she realized now that the body's memory was far more honest, and infinitely more stubborn, than she had imagined.

The terror and repression etched into her bones couldn't simply be erased by a few months of freedom.

That afternoon, she locked up the shop early and returned to her apartment. Without turning on the lights, she sat in the dark on her sofa for a long time, watching until the sky outside her window bled into total blackness.

At nine o'clock on Saturday night, her regular video call with Harriet connected right on schedule. Harriet was sitting against the familiar backdrop of faded floral wallpaper in her countryside house. She looked much better than last time; her face had filled out, and she seemed to be in good spirits.

"Miss, is spring finally coming around over there?" Harriet asked warmly, a smile on her face. "You're dressed a lot lighter today."

Annelise nodded and turned her phone toward the window to show Harriet the Oslo nightscape. "The snow is almost gone, and the trees on the street are starting to bud."

After chatting a bit more, Harriet's smile faltered, as if she suddenly remembered something. Her tone turned hesitant.

"Miss... there's something I don't know if I should tell you."

Annelise's heart sank half an inch. "Go ahead, Harriet."

"There's one more thing... It was about a month ago. He went to the Sargent Residence."

Annelise's grip on her glass tightened, just slightly.

"He managed to get a key from somewhere, maybe hired a locksmith. He stayed in that house, all by himself, for an entire afternoon." Harriet's voice dropped to a near whisper. "I went back the next day to check on things, just to be safe. He didn't touch a single thing. The house was spotless, exactly as it was before he went in."

"He just... he just sat in your childhood bedroom."

"That room is exactly the way you left it when you went off to college at eighteen. The charcoal sketches you drew in high school are still on the wall, and... that family portrait of you and your parents is still there."