Sweet Julie Darling

Ugly Mysteries

Gran puts down a jug of fresh milk and 2 berry smoothie bowls.
"These are the reasons I'm still hauling those ol'girl's bucketfuls." She says digging in.
"I'm sure Gran."
"Honest! Or I'll dig my grave, carve my coffin and kiss bitter almonds."
"Gran!" I laugh. It's been ages since I've heard that saying.
"Julie today I want to ask if you could help clean out that dust-collecting attic of mine?"
"Sure."
"Good since these creaky bones are struggling to make it all the way up there." She twists on her stool making a squeaky noise for emphasis.

I push open the door. For an attic it's surprisingly bright in here due to a large skylight speckled with bird crap. I look around a little unsure of where to start. That's when something catches my eye; a small white (now faded and yellowing) trunk with a unnecessarily large padlock. I pick it up and give it a good shake. It's lighter than expected but the only sound is something around inside. Why lock away a single object? It's definitely too little to be a weapon. I spend almost an hour searching for a key.
"For crying out loud it has to be here somewhere!" I'm gonna give up. I try pulling on the padlock in hopes of dumb luck but it gives and pops open!
"What? How?" Well I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I remove the lock...

There are so many qualities that make us human: MRS GREN, emotions, the capability to create etc. But the most obvious thing is the fact that humans have flaws. Greed. One of our most horrible flaws that just end up hurting others and eventually ourselves.

Confusion. All the articles in the box are about a family that was murdered. Shot to be exact. "Family of 3 torn apart. 2 dead and 1 missing." "Daughter still alive? Is escape a possibility?" "Young couple dead with disappearance of baby girl." Each headline causes my head to go BANG BANG. My shaking hands pick up the photos and for some reason the house in them seems familiar. BANG BANG. Lastly I grab a rose gold locket. Inside is a picture of a smiling couple, in the woman's arms is a baby and their smiles are for the child. BANG BANG. Engraved onto the opposite side: Juliana our sweet darling angel. Tears stream down my face. BANG! BANG!
"Mom! Dad! Wake up! Wake up!" Memories long-forgotten come flooding back to me. The shock of it so hectic that I fall to the floor. My body feels numb.
"My my my name is Juliana van Velders not Julie Groblaar. My parents were killed b..by m..my mother!" I spit out the word. She killed them mercilessly and stole me! How she got rid of my memories I don't know but I believe I'm owed an explanation.

"GRAN!" My voice is sharp and rings across the yard. Workers stare but all I can think of is how she knows! She turns and her eyes widen at the sight of the locket around my neck.
"Julie..."
"It's Juliana."
"Juliana we should go to the house and talk there ok?"
"You better explain." Heartbreak and understanding seem to flash in her eyes.
"I will. Come." I follow her more tears flow clouding my vision.
"This is my fault. When she was younger she was declared 'unstable'. I should've realized mental health was a real issue and not just something I'd fix via stern lectures and sending her to her room without dinner."
"And?"
"She snuck out her room one night, got drunk, got hold of a firearm and you know the rest."
"Why'd she take me?"
"I don't know but raising you seemed to be a kind of therapy for her and eventually she could once again be declared 'stable'." I slowly digest this information.
"You and her fought about this?"
"It's why you stopped coming to see me." I look everywhere but at Gran or fake Gran to be exact.
"I should call her."
"You should." She opens the fridge and pours me a glass of milk then pulls out a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard.
"Here you need this." I gulp down the milk and she takes an unholy swing of alcohol.
"Thanks for telling me the truth."
"I've been wanting to since the day I first met you child. I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner." We sit in silence (that seems to be happening a lot lately). She hands me her phone.
"Call her."
"Then what?"
"Then I'll do what I should've done a long time ago: get my daughter help and give my granddaughter justice." I can only stare at her in amazement. She might not be blood anymore but this is what family does for each other. Protect and help their own.