Transmigrated into a Fantasy World with No Clue What To Do Chapter 18: Chapter 17: A Visit from Mom / Memories

Read chapter 18 of Transmigrated into a Fantasy World with No Clue What To Do by PrincessArylin on NovelPedia.

Chapter 17: A Visit from Mom / Memories Wait! I cry out mentally. What if the soul returns to its original vessel only to find it occupied? “That’s,” I get the mental impression of him winking while putting a finger in front of his lips in a fashion very reminiscent of a particular Slayers character, “a secret.” What? That’s bullshit! I feel a soft touch on my forehead, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face. I look up and see the blurry features of my mother. “There’s my little girl,” she says softly. “Here, I brought something that should help some with the pain.” She passes me a warm object made out of a leathery material I can’t identify. It sloshes as though filled with fluid. “Put this on the lower part of your tummy and it should help the muscles relax a bit which will help with the cramping,” she continues in that same soft tone. “You’re growing up so fast, it’s probably wrong to still call you my little girl, but even though you may be a woman now, you are still my beautiful little girl to me. We have talked about getting your first period before, but you likely don’t remember due to your memory loss.” “I know about p-periods, Mom.” I assure her, my face burning. “Ok, ok,” she says, a smile in her voice. She reaches out and gently strokes my hair with her soft hand. “You know you can talk to me about anything you feel the need to, period related or otherwise, right? I will always be here for you, Beira. You are my treasure.” “M-mom!” I say a bit loudly, embarrassment clearly written on my face. My mother chuckles softly, giving my head a soft pat before leaning in and kissing me softly on the forehead. “I’m so proud of you, my daughter, and I look forward to seeing the beautiful woman you grow into. I feel as though I don’t tell you enough how proud you make me.” Her kind words wrap me in their warmth and I can’t help but compare and contrast her with my mother from my time as Michael. Both were strict and rigorous in their views on the importance of my education. Both would push for perfection on this front, but whereas Michael’s mother would push me until I broke, my mother would push me to my limit but never beyond. Both were restrained in showing affection to me, but whereas Michael’s mother would turn her back to me when I needed comfort, my mother was here trying her best to be reassuring and let me know that I am loved. Pain shoots through my skull and I gasp as dual memories flood my mind. In one memory, I was sitting on the floor, tucked into a corner of the funeral home room that the viewing for my dad was in. I had gotten overwhelmed from the amount of people I didn’t know who had shown up to the viewing and started to cry despite my efforts not to. I missed the man who was always open and encouraging to me, the man who I never got to tell my secret, the man who I would never see again. I had turned to my mother for comfort and she had just stared back at me, her eyes cold. She told me to go sit in the corner out of sight if I couldn’t control my emotions, which she thought was pathetic for someone who had just turned fifteen. That was how I came to be sitting in the corner, hidden by the wreaths that people had sent for condolences. This was where I hid, even during the funeral that followed the viewing, coming out only for the interment, where the finality of everything completely broke me. That night after we had gotten home was the only time I heard my mother cry that day, and only after I had retreated to my room. Never once did she try to comfort me over the loss of my dad. In the second memory, I was being held in my Daddy’s strong arms, my small arms wrapped around his neck as I bawled into the side of his neck. My grandpa, the former Count Whoriskey MacBain, my mommy’s daddy, had died suddenly and we were currently standing, well, I was being held, beside the MacBain family mausoleum while a local priest performed a ceremony before the placement of his body within. My parents had explained to