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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A teenaged golden skinned girl clung to my torso as I approached a certain visitor that was waiting at the door.
"Anna let go of me," I ordered her. The girl only responded by tightening her grip around my chest. I let out a frustrated groan. I tried to walk with her arms around me, but I didn't get any far. With a sigh, I removed her hands from my chest and pushed her away from me a little too harshly. She stared at me, mouth wide open in shock.
"I don't have time for you Anna," I said. After I said those words, her mouth opened wider. Then suddenly she was angry.
"Are you that eager to see the man behind the door that you don't even have time for your own daughter?" She asked, the rage rolling off her tongue. It was now that I realised what I had said to her.
"No, it's just that this is really important and I don't necessarily want my daughter around when I'm discussing matters with that man. You might feel uncomfortable," I attempted to explain. Deep down, I knew that I was only wasting my breath. The damage had already been done and there was no way to repair it.
The girl snorted. The action made me cringe inwardly.
"Oh spare me your lies!" she exasperated. "Ever since you got engaged to that white snob you have changed! You keep ignoring me and when you do speak to me you treat me with little respect!"
"Oh you should hear yourself, you little brat," I started, "thinking that you're entitled for respect. And..." I paused to grab her and jerk her body close to me. "...for your information that white snob who you are referring to is your future stepfather. Don't ever let me hear you disrespect him again, you hear!"
The girl slowly nodded. "Now go to your room," I ordered. I released her and she hurried to the foot of the stairs, but not without turning to me. Our eyes met for a brief second. Hers were filled with tears, ones caused by me.
"Honestly, I don't even know you anymore," she stated, finally letting out all the bitter tears she tried so desperately to hide. Then without another word, she turned and headed to her room.
I let the visitor into my house, while not bothering to wipe away the painful tears that were currently running down my face.
I allowed a tear to roll down my face as the memory left my mind. Looking back now, I could see how right she was. I was being insensitive and rude to my own child. I was so focused on impressing Henry that I forgot about my daughter. Heck I even admitted that I didn't have time for her. I sighed deeply. My mind told me to stop beating up myself. It wasn't good for my physical and mental health.
I sat up straight and averted my gaze to the burgundy book on the bedside table. My mind had been thinking about it for a while now. It told me that the answers that I was looking for were in this book. There had to be something that was related to her death. I stretched my arm and reached for the book. The leather cover felt cool under my touch. This was actually unusual. When she was alive, and I touched the book, it felt warm like her skin. Now this sudden cold temperature sort of implied that the diary died along with her. I scoffed at the thought.
