Matilda Garcia is married to one of the most established lawyers and land owners in Trinidad, and she cannot be more happier. Until, an object from her past suddenly appears in her life which leads to solve the mystery of her dead daughter, and circ...
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There she was lying on a bed. She was asleep, never to wake again. Her face was strangely peaceful, so unaware of the suffering it was currently bearing. Her eyebrows creased slightly as if she was thinking intelligently in her horrid state. Her pink lips pursed outwards in a doll-like pout, unexpectedly making her face glow with childlike innocence.
This was exactly what she was- a child who was stripped of her happiness by unfortunate circumstances, eating away her vivid soul.
This was partly my fault. I shouldn't have closed up my heart and acted oblivious to her mental distress. I was her mother. It was my job to be there for her and I failed at that. My last hope as a mother was to make it known to her that I loved her, despite my actions yesterday.
Slowly I brushed my hand across her delicate face. She still slept and was relatively unmoved by the action. I sighed and turned my attention to the beeping monitor. The rhythmic beep and the lines on the screen were the only sign of life she showed. I watched the lines cautiously as they formed angular patterns on the screen. The longer I watched the stronger my hope became.
At first I felt foolish for basing my hope on some lines created by a damn machine, but then I began to consider the thought of it being accurate.
Suddenly I heard the click of the door being opened and the footsteps of an expected visitor. Then a hand rested on my shoulder.
It didn't take a person with half a brain to figure that it was the nurse.
She let out a sniff behind me. It was low and barely audible, but I still heard it.
"There has been no improvement in her critical condition. If this continues she'll..." she trailed off.
I cut her off before she got the chance to say the rest. Was she predicting that my daughter would die? She would never die! I'd be damned if she ever did.
"Don't say that!" I demanded, "I know she can fight this."
My voice was more raspy than normal, but I didn't mind it. In fact it matched perfectly with my mental state: coarse and filled with cracks. I pressed my lips together and waited for the stocky nurse to respond.
"Mrs Anderson there's nothing we can do. You just have to accept it," she replied with a touch of concern.
She left the room without another word.
Having felt the absence of her presence, my heart began to beat fast, and my brain was beginning to throb. I soon began to realise that I was remembering my last words before I...
