Echoes of Delphinium - Chapter 1

Invisible. Invisibility had pestered Constance since she took her first steps. They weren’t the first within her house– They were, in fact, the fifth.

Though, it wasn’t just her first steps that felt entirely cheap. It was her first A+, her first award, and her first nomination for class president– These perfections that she strived for were all not firsts but fifths.

Constance’s family was nothing but perfection. Not meeting, but exceeding expectations. So, when feeling invisible morphed into turning invisible, she took it and ran. She finally had a first. Unless her siblings had something peculiar about them that they didn’t tell her.

Still, invisibility wasn’t anywhere close to where it stopped.

On her fourteenth birthday, she bought herself a cake; White frosting with swirling black letters atop it, saying ‘Happy Birthday Constance!’ The baker, Mr. Zepheros, she knew very well, as she had visited him since her tenth, always requesting the same thing—a cake with simple letters and raspberry filling between the vanilla slices. The raspberry filling made it worth the money she earned from selling papers and small crafts.

But there was something different about this birthday, something incredibly neglectful. On most birthdays, Constance’d get a small side-hug from her mother and a few ‘Happy Birthdays’ from her older siblings if they were feeling generous– Mostly from Vincent, her older brother, whom she believed deeply pitied her. Her fourteenth birthday, unluckily, just happened to fall on the day of one of Vincent’s violin recitals.

It was his big day (as it had been many times before.) A day that would bring the family much fame and fortune and bring Vincent every drop of attention the family had to offer– So much so they paid little attention to getting him a cake. She stepped silently through the front door and attempted to sneak past them with a bag draped over her arm but quickly stopped.

“What do you have there?” Her mother chimed, prying the bag off her arm and peering inside. She had a smile– A genuine one that Constance rarely saw. She supposed that one of her seven children had finally achieved something worthy of it. The smile brightened further as she spotted the cake resting in the bottom of the bag. “Oh, how thoughtful, Connie!” She returned to the kitchen and rushed inside without glancing at her daughter. “Vincent! We have just what we need to celebrate!”

Constance watched from afar as she popped off the plastic cover, opened a kitchen drawer, and removed a fork, which she used to scrape the letters off the top of the cake skillfully.

She wouldn’t have minded if she had just asked, as she was always for a celebration– But the way her mother didn’t hesitate to do such a thing and didn’t bother to read the letters decorating her special-made cake was what truly got under her skin.

She cleared her throat and turned away from the celebration, carefully steadying her steps as she made her way to the stairs. She’d allow them to eat her cake if they did it without her in the room– She didn’t wish to watch as each child was served before her until there was nothing left but the crumbs decorating the cardboard bottom of the cake’s container.

She quietly shunned herself for the burning sensation raiding my eyes and throat as she reached the top of the stairs. “We do not cry over something as petty as this.”

She walked to the far end of the upstairs hallway, floors creaking in pity with each step. Her stomach began to twist with anger. The feeling devoured her like a flame, rocketing through her stomach and reaching her chest, sending her to her knees before she could grasp the door.

“I’m so proud of you!” Her mother wailed dramatically downstairs.

Her head was on fire, and her skin was slick with sweat. She was in the limbo of rage and disgust– Her feelings were mixing into a disgusting concoction that she could barely name, and her body reacted with each twist. Each new additive started another symptom, and before she knew it, my hand collided with the doorknob– And the doorknob was no more, engulfed by soft orange flames that licked the faux gold aggressively. Flames that didn’t taint the metal bulb.

A flurry of orange and yellow was attached to her skin, licking up her arm and leading to her chest, which they rapidly overtook. She was burning up, yet her skin remained intact– She felt no pain, only fury– Red-hot rage that danced over her torso and down her legs, engulfing her body in flames.

“Constance?”

Vincent stood at the edge of the stairs, hazel eyes widened. She turned to face her brother, albeit slowed. Until now, she had yet to see Vincent portray any emotion, except for when he played violin with his god-given skill. Still, even when he played, she had never seen such fear. His face had paled further than its usual sun-deprived white, and his hand was twitching, hesitant to reach out for her.

She fled. It was all she could do. She could face her brother in her dazed state, or flee, leaving singed carpet behind her. The flames retracted into themselves, clinging to her body like the rage that ultimately began to subside, fading into embarrassment.

As she ran down the stairs, the flames dissolved. She pressed her back against a wall far from the kitchen and gathered herself, taking a deep breath. She had yet to contain her outbursts of invisibility, but she wished so greatly to be invisible at that moment that the Gods granted her wish. Just as the flames had spread, the invisibility did so, too, creeping up her body and washing over her.

She sidestepped and entered the hallway, watching from a few feet away as the family slowly began to realize Vincent’s disappearance.

Thud.

“Vincent?” Her mother called, brushing past the rest of her children to rush to the stairs, followed closely by the others.

It’d be a lie to tell herself that this was the first time something odd had happened to her. She wanted to be in shock at the experience, but all she could muster was a growl of her stomach as she eyed a spare piece of cake on the kitchen counter.

She snuck into the kitchen, pulled a corner of the cake off with her pointer, middle, and thumb, and stuffed it into her mouth as she scanned the house one final time.

It was unfortunate that it had to end that way, with her exiting the house, cake coating her fingertips as she gulped down a minor portion of her favorite flavor– But it was how it had to be for Fowther to find her stray soul.