⫘⫘⫘
𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘.
❛ chapter five ❜
𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯.
when i walk in, the house is eerily silent. the air carries a certain weight and before any of the maids say a word of greeting to me- i can already tell.
"hello-"
"where is my mother?" i wonder, staring down at the woman by the name of catrina- a maid who's old enough to be my grandmother, but has loyally served my family for decades with the promise that her own would be looked after. perhaps that explains the stress that amasses upon the italian woman's delicately aged features that can't lie to me or hide anything despite her efforts to.
"...your mother has instructed for you to go over to your cousin's house sir," the woman begins. "if you like, i can arrange for you to ri-"
"i am not going to mateo's house." i clarify, trying my best to be patient to the elderly woman, but the more time she takes the more i can begin to feel a sense of urgency weighing on my shoulders. "where is my mother?"
the question goes unanswered, only met with concerned eyes before the slight revelation of far-off voices strikes a realization into me i've had the privilege of not having for a while- but the air is too tight and dense, and my lowered guard will prove useless. i simply stare at the woman before walking past her and up the stairs of the main house; the one that contains the dining room, living room, kitchen, my room.. the study.
"please," the woman calls out, scrambling behind me. "don't. your mother-"
"i do not listen to my mother." i offer, walking down the hallway to the room with the door that's always closed; the one parallel to mine- the one that's not so soundproof after all these years. i cannot help the inhuman way my expression remains completely still as i open it, expecting exactly what i knew what would happen.
my father often travels abroad for months at a time, this time a whole year; but it seems as if he's come back home
my mother's dark hazel eyes immediately land on me in a mortified horror; one deprived of the upright pride she usually wears upon her face. instead, she wears nothing but a black eye and bloodied bruises upon her face that looks as if she's been mauled by an animal.
"m..mariano." she whispers so faintly that if it wasn't for the embarrassment on her face, i'd barely know what she was saying. she scrambles as i near her, but doesn't resist as i help her off the floor, brushing off her dress and placing her upon her feet. there are many things i could say to her but instead i choose nothing, only giving her a knowing glance because this is what's normal for me to see- her beaten down and dehumanized like some sort of creature that doesn't at all resemble her worth- so even though i say nothing, it's obvious that she feels my anger with the way she struggles to meet my eyes. "you.."
"is that you figlio?"
i did not look in the direction of the man who stands opposite to us, nor do i choose to focus on the clinking of glass bottles and the pouring of liquid; instead, i'm more focus on inspecting and cleaning my mother who's injuries are quite obvious.
"mariano," she whispers again, grabbing my arm. "just go."
"go?" i repeat, refusing to match her quietly tone of voice and appease my father. "anda tu. por que entrarias aqui? tu sabes como es."
"what're we talking about?" my father hums. "i clearly remember telling you both to speak in a language i can understand."
