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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I was surprised that I still had the ability to breathe after reading that. My body was frozen in place, and my lips were twitching rigorously. Goosebumps had found themselves on the surface of my skin, but I hardly cared. The words blinked in my vision, and I shuddered at the sight of them. My slightly numb fingers rubbed the page lightly.
Then I cried, and cried until my head hurt, until I couldn't cry anymore. My wails echoed off the walls. They were audible manifestations of the grief I felt for my daughter's death, and the betrayal I felt towards Henry's betrayal.
My feet moved by themselves, and I found myself walking outside of my room. As I walked to the living hall, a few maids called my name, but I was oblivious to them. I walked out of the mansion, and continued to walk until I reached the streets. Tears escaped my eyes, rolled down my cheeks and damped the neckline of my blouse. In addition to that, it was raining, and people who didn't have umbrellas, were rushing to their homes. Memories clouded my mind. I let them.
"But Ma he mistreated me, he hated me."
I cried harder. She had literally told me to my face that he had violated her, and instead of demanding her for an explanation, I decided to lash at her like a common dog. How stupid of a parent could I have been, to throw out my own daughter in the favour of defending my spouse? I was absolutely pathetic.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked my words were harsh, but my tone was motherly. Anna stopped in her tracks, and turned to face me.
"Nothing, Ma," she replied. I frowned. She was obviously lying. I could see it in her face. I didn't like it when she was upset. It made me upset.
"Then why are you walking like you're feeling pain in your vaginal area?" I asked as a joke. Her face paled when she registered the words.
"Yeah, Ma, look at the time!" she suddenly exclaimed, completely dodging the question. "Shouldn't you be heading to night service?" She was right. I did have a late night church service to attend, and her reminder made me forget my previous question.
"Okay, I'll get ready," I replied.
That memory had taken place on the day she was raped. She was stepping down the staircase, when I noticed that she walking with a weird space between her legs. A thigh gap couldn't have been the case because her legs were bigger than the average skinny person. The way she was reminded me of women when they lost their virginity. It was both funny and saddening now that was indeed the case.
I barely registered a car pulling up at my feet. The car, no doubt, came from the mansion (Henry had made me study his cars' appearances and licence plate numbers to prevent me from entering strangers' cars). The driver winded down the window. As usual, it was Bernard. When he saw me, his face turned from neutral to relief. He slipped out of the car with a shine in his eyes.
