Seventh Excerpt from Ellory (a fiction novel)

Ellen Effy Su. August 15, 2025.

Ellory shook in her sleep, drenched her mulberry silk Tiffany blue pillowcase with tears as her eyes remained tightly shut. Her dark brown hair spiraled around her head in a jumbled mess, unusual for her straight locks. Awake, Ellory was a different person from asleep Ellory. 

Ellory’s nightmares violently disturbed her beauty sleep. They were powerful enough to shake her boyfriend into confusion and concern. 

“Hey, earth to Ellory. Are you okay? Wake up. It’s a dream. You’re fine. You’re safe,” Elliot said in a subdued way. He tried to show tenderness, although he did not grow up with a maternal mother, either. He understood this fatal flaw was one of Ellory’s many quirks. He knew he had to accept it because this girl was the one he loved.

“Ah! Oh, gosh. You scared me, there. What’s up?” Ellory flashed her eyes open while simultaneously blinking away the wetness in her eyes. 

“I should be asking you that. What’s up with you? Why are you crying in your sleep? Do you remember what you dreamed of?” Elliot thought his girlfriend was sobbing over a fictional dream. 

“It was a memory. A painful one. I was molested when I was four years old by an assistant teacher at a ballet studio. It happened in an empty office. He called me his good little butterfly and pulled down my pink stockings. It was a sick form of punishment. I defended my friend for not being able to do a split. He called my friend lazy, and I responded in kind. He tried to touch me, but only got to my thighs and stomach because I was sobbing too loudly. His left hand gripped my right thigh as I sat on the wooden chair. The door was closed. He stopped. He said my noise turned him off. He touched another girl in my class, who was brave enough to tell her parents. I think he was fired. We never saw him again. I don’t know why I sometimes remember things in my sleep. For me, that was one of the most painful years of my life. Being physically abused by a stranger and then seeing my sister’s body hanging in our living room drastically altered my opinion of the world. I wish I hadn’t seen cruelty up close at such a young, impressionable age,” Ellory’s voice flowed melodically. 

She looked like a child when she slept. She sounded wise beyond her years when she spoke. She was always deeply depressed, underneath the happy exterior she displayed to the outside world of insincere smiles and fickle conversations. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me that. Thank you for sharing with me. You can trust me. I will always be here for you. Would you like some tea before trying to sleep again?” Elliot tranquilized Ellory’s nightmare with his question. 

He had a special ability to know what, when, and how to say it. He swerved Ellory from her low moods to moderate moods. He knew how to maneuver Ellory away from her pit of hollowness. 

Only the broken understand the broken. And only those who have been previously broken are capable of fixing others. 

There is no quick fix to grief, assault, or bankruptcy, yet there is a miracle drug not sold as a pharmaceutical. The miracle has always been the golden people, the ones who see light at the end of the darkest tunnels. The golden ones are the miracle drugs that magically invoke joy in the hopelessly underjoyed. They respark the matches, relight the candles, and rebuild destructive arid paths to create luscious botanical trails that lead toward happiness. 

“I wouldn’t mind chamomile tea. I’m sorry for waking you. It’s 3 AM. I shouldn’t mess up your sleep schedule with my troubled memories. It won’t happen again,” Ellory felt embarrassed.

After all these years, why were her most torturous memories coming to life in her unconscious mind? 

Ghosts haunt those who cannot move on. Ellory never saw the ghost of her sister. All of her ghosts were very much alive and not departed from the realm of life. Ellory could barely recall the names of her former friends from middle school, but she could still see her sister’s face through closed eyes. Seventeen years were not enough time to erase Sfera. Ellory would see Sfera in each ice cube, every shard of glass, and in aquamarine pools. 

“I’ll help you up,” Elliot lifted Ellory from the bed and set her down on her feet. 

Ellory stepped into her plush robin egg blue slippers, a stark contrast to the cold hardwood. 

“Thanks, lovey,” Ellory cooed in a grateful tone. 

The couple walked down the hallway to the kitchen, where Ellory began steeping chamomile tea. He wasn’t one of the lazy individuals who tossed a teabag into a mug and added hot water to soak. He turned the gas stovetop on after placing the kettle. 

“Alright, sit tight. It’ll be ready in a sec,” Elliot consistently did everything he could do. Performing acts of service came naturally to him. His former girlfriends didn’t have to ask him to do anything. He enjoyed helping the ones he cared about. 

Ellory wrote a letter to Sfera once, on the day she turned fifteen, the age Sfera will forever remain. The letter was dated April 15, 2019.

I will see you in every shard of glass, each ice cube, all pools of water, the aquamarine we jumped in, the crystal I lift to my lips, the lip gloss I wipe off, the stain on my stainless steel thermos, the reflection off of the refrigerator, and the house of mirrors you once chased me through.

I will live the life you never got to see. 

The luck on my side was you, the wondrous angel protecting me.

I will see you for the rest of my life because you were bigger than the whole sky. 

I see your smile in mine, hear your laugh in mine, and I braid my hair like it's yours. Your voice will forever echo in my mind. 

I see your quiet confidence and high-heeled struts in my walk. 

I see your fears that I tried to calm with my Cheshire cat's smile, in my nightmares.

I see your wisdom when I backtrack to remember what my superstar sister would do. 

I see you in every shattered and reclaimed fragment of me. 

I see you in butterfly wings, cumulus clouds, unsuspecting profiles of flight attendants, oolong tea, winged eyeliner, purple highlights, leather jackets, silk blouses, sliced cucumbers, ripe persimmons, and rose perfume.

I see you in any mirror. I see you. 

I am not angry anymore. I know you left for the better, and paradise must be nice. I understand you now. Life is cruel, unusual punishment once you are unable to see the sun. 

To be born with your face was a blessing and a curse. I disliked being a replacement, a counterfeit created to replicate a rare work of art. To absorb your sorrow and not your compassion was a character flaw of mine. To choose to be guarded instead of being the golden one was a choice I made. To build up impenetrable walls was a decision I regret. To be as wonderful as you must have been exhausting. 

The memory of you makes me want to live. For better or for worse, I have to yearn for your unfinished dreams, reduce your disappointments, remember your string of heartbroken boyfriends, and recall your eternal strength. 

You were incomparable.

I was made from desperation, not love. So, I begrudgingly accepted my fate. I attempted to earn love through collecting trophies and weaponized my achievements to feel elation, but the hole in my heart has never been stitched. 

You were the best part of me. I don't think I ever told you I loved you. I forgot to. I thought you knew. I am a living ghost, and I know you are at peace because I am at peace today. 

Nobody calls me Lennie anymore. It's our thing. You are infinite in my world, integral to my past, and ever-present in my perspective. 
Love, 

Lennie. 

Ellory thought of the words she set in ink while sipping on the chamomile tea steeped by Elliot. She imagined a million what-ifs.

What could she do to bring Sfera back? The normal answer would be nothing. 

The answer to Ellory was to save a girl who reminded her of Sfera: a young woman caught up in this shady worldwide business, someone who desperately desired an out. Ellory wanted to nurture someone similar to Sfera. She planned to nurse the girl back to health. It would be what Sfera would have wanted. One less mattress actress meant one less paid company. Rehabilitating a grown adult is atypical for most people. Ellory didn’t see things the way the average person perceived. She saw lost souls trapped under monetary and emotional baggage. 

It inspired Ellory to find a woman resembling her dead sister’s personality and save the girl from a life no parent plans for their daughter. 

Ellory found Vivian. Vivian found Ellory. Ellory gains a sister in this uncommon, unorthodox, possibly asinine method.

Who else goes through the trouble of stalking pimps, brothels, and middlemen agents to find a sibling replica? Who else, except Ellory?