The morning light streamed through the window, illuminating the room in a soft, golden hue. Pearl found herself busying around the house, despite the challenge of managing household chores with just one arm. Ever since her return, she had been confined to the couch, her days lost in a blur of television shows. But today, she chose to engage her surroundings, to feel useful again.
Methodically, she made her way around the house, wiping down tables and dusting off shelves. Next, she ventured outside to clean the windows, her movements steady and determined. As she worked, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from her sister, sharing the location of her next venture with the Variants. Pearl glanced at the message, her heart heavy, but chose to leave it unread.
These past four months had weighed heavily on Pearl. She felt lost, her usually vibrant spirit dampened by her recent hardships. She missed the thrill of battle, the camaraderie of her team. Her current state of inactivity was a stark contrast to the life she used to lead. It made her feel helpless, a feeling she wasn't accustomed to.
"Pearl! I'm back home!" Jack's voice echoed through the house, pulling her from her reverie.
"Hey, Dad," Pearl replied, making her way to the kitchen table and taking a seat.
Jack entered the room, a large box in his hands. "Guess what was delivered to us! Or rather, what was delivered for you!" His voice held a note of excitement.
Pearl raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
With a flourish, Jack opened the box, revealing a sleek prosthetic arm. "It's for you! Your friend, Darling, sent it! She even left a note," he said, handing Pearl a folded piece of paper.
Pearl gingerly took the note, opening it to reveal Darling's tidy script.
"Hope you're okay. I've been thinking about you. I hope you like it!" Darling's note read.
Pearl was taken aback, a flurry of emotions rushing over her. There was happiness, certainly, at Darling's thoughtful gesture. But there was also fear; the prosthetic arm was a stark reminder of her loss, her physical and emotional scars laid bare.
She abruptly stood from the table, her chair scraping against the floor. Jack looked at her, concern etching lines on his face. "You okay, kiddo? You should go ahead and try it on!"
Pearl shook her head, her blonde hair swaying with the motion. "Um, I don’t feel like it right now. I’ll do it later or sometime. I’m sleepy. I’m going to get some sleep," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
Without another word, Pearl retreated to her room, leaving Jack alone in the kitchen. He watched his daughter, his heart aching for her struggle. With a sigh, he closed the box, placing it on the table.
As the silence settled in the room, Jack couldn't help but wish that things could be different, that he could take away Pearl's pain. But all he could do for now was support her, be there for her, and hope that, in time, she would find her strength again.
In Pearl's dream, the room was alive with an intoxicating warmth, a pervasive heat that seemed to seep into the very fabric of reality. Pearl was in bed with Darling, their bodies separated by mere inches, their eyes locked in an intimate gaze. Darling's caramel skin glowed in the dim light, her brown hair with blonde highlights splayed out on the pillow, framing her beautifully made-up face.
Pearl, her sun-kissed tan skin radiating a different kind of glow, stared back into Darling's eyes. Her golden blonde hair, so different from her bedmate's, was disheveled, a testament to the passion that had preceded this moment. Her nose ring twinkled in the muted room lighting.
The air between them seemed to crackle, a tangible heat wave that built up the anticipation of the impending kiss. Just as their lips were about to meet, the scene morphed, the warm hues of the room replaced with a harsh, cold light.
Morrisa was there, her fiery red eyes gleaming ominously, the scar on her lips a stark reminder of her ruthless nature. Her hair was as dark as the night, her pale skin a chilling contrast. In her hand, she held a weapon, an extension of her terrifying power. Without a word, she swung at Pearl.
A sharp pain coursed through Pearl's right arm, and the scene shifted back to the School of Savings, where Morrisa had once cut her arm off. The pain, the blood, the terror - it all came rushing back.
Pearl woke up, her body drenched in sweat, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. She glanced at her right side, where her arm used to be. The phantom pain pulsating from the empty space where her arm should be. Pearl tried to steady her breathing, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging on.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, attempting to dispel the horrific images and return to the warmth of the dream before. But the fear was too palpifying, the images too vivid. Despite her efforts, sleep remained elusive, her mind trapped in the terrifying loop of her nightmare.
The following day, Pearl accompanied her father to the town to pick up some groceries. She hadn't wanted to go, fearful of the stares and whispers that would undoubtedly follow her since she lost her arm. As predicted, people couldn't help but glance her way, curiosity and pity evident in their eyes. Pearl, who had always been indifferent to others' opinions, found herself bothered by the unwanted attention.
Returning home, they prepared for the arrival of Pearl's grandmother. Together, they busied themselves with cooking, the familiar rhythm of domestic chores almost comforting. In time, their grandmother arrived, and they settled around the table, enjoying the home-cooked meal.
During the dinner, Grandma asked about Paris. "Pearl, have you been thinking of joining her soon?" she inquired.
Pearl shook her head. "Uhh no. I won’t be much help," she said, her voice low.
"Nonsense!" Grandma exclaimed, "Your dad told me about your new arm. You just need to learn how to fight with it, and you'll be as good as new!"
"But I'm good where I am. I've learned to live with one arm. And I'm going to continue doing so," Pearl responded, her voice firm.
"That isn't like you at all, Pearl. You're 17, turning 18 later this year. You've always dreamt of travelling, not doing mundane housework!" Grandma countered. Jack nodded, agreeing with Grandma. "She's right, Pearl. Don’t let your loss stop you."
"But even if I wanted to catch up with Paris, she's too far away. I can't reach her in time," Pearl argued.
"Well, Rebel has a portal that can take you there," Grandma revealed. Pearl stared at her in surprise. "Yes, she has one for each of us, you, Paris, Jack, even me. Since you and Paris are now separated, she made individual ones for both of you."
The revelation left Pearl reeling. She had no desire to connect with her estranged mother, Rebel, but if it meant getting to see Paris again, she was willing to consider it. Jack, however, expressed his concerns. "Rebel and her gang are dangerous. I don't want Pearl mixed up in that."
"Well, regardless of what happened, Rebel is still Pearl's mother. There must be a soft spot somewhere," Grandma reasoned.
Pearl left the table to retrieve the box containing her prosthetic arm. Opening it, she took the arm out and slid it onto her stump. It almost felt like the real thing. A small inscription reading 'Pearl' in cursive made her blush, a reminder that Darling had sent her this.
"So, you're really thinking about it?" Jack asked, his eyes meeting hers.
"Yeah, but I need some practice before I decide. I need to know I can trust this thing," Pearl responded, flexing her new arm. The path ahead was unclear, but Pearl knew she was ready to face whatever came her way.
The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the open field where Jack and Pearl stood. Jack, a robust man with streaks of grey in his hair, watched his daughter with an expression of quiet concern. Pearl, her golden hair tied back in a high ponytail, was visibly struggling with her new prosthetic arm.
The prosthetic was a sleek design, a testament to modern technology, but it was alien to Pearl. It felt like a foreign object attached to her body, and she was having a hard time controlling it. She clenched and unclenched her mechanical hand, her face scrunched in concentration.
Jack came up beside her, his eyes soft. "Remember, Pearl, it's just like the real one. You've got to feel it as a part of you." His voice was gentle, his words encouraging.
Pearl looked at him, her striking blue eyes filled with determination. "I know, Dad. It's just...hard."
Jack put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know, sweetheart. But I also know you. You're the strongest person I know. You'll get there."
They spent the next few hours practicing. Jack would toss a ball, and Pearl would attempt to catch it with her prosthetic hand. Many times, she missed, the ball bouncing off the mechanical fingers. But she didn't give up.
With each throw, Pearl's control improved. Slowly but surely, she started to catch the ball more frequently. The prosthetic arm started to feel less foreign, more a part of her. There were still moments of frustration, moments of pain, but they were punctuated by moments of triumph.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Jack and Pearl shared a quiet moment. Pearl, her face flushed from exertion, looked at her father. "Thanks, Dad. I think...I think I'm getting the hang of it."
Jack smiled, his eyes filled with pride. "I know you are, Pearl. I'm proud of you."
As they walked back towards their home, Pearl flexed her new arm, the mechanical fingers curling and uncurling with more ease. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress, and that was enough for now.
This was just the beginning of a new journey for Pearl, one filled with challenges and triumphs. But with her own strength and the unwavering support of her father, she knew she could face anything.
Author’s Note:
Hope you enjoyed Pearl’s chapter! Tell me your thoughts!
