JOANN BLANCHETT

"That bastard ruined my childhood"

Recap

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As he calmed slightly, he looked straight into my eyes, and I felt a chill run down my spine. The next words that came from his mouth, the words no child should ever hear from a parent, words that will haunt me for years to come: "You're a heartless little devil who doesn't even know what makes her dad happy. You always give him disappointment. he snarls, his voice filled with venom. And then, the final blow: "And now, I think that you're an accident."

I could feel the world around me begin to crumble, the love I had always sought from him twisted into something I could never comprehend. I wanted to scream, to cry, to fight back against the unfairness of it all. But instead, I felt small and trapped, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a heavy blanket.

Suddenly, I jolted awake, heart racing, gasping for breath. It took me a moment to realize I was safe in my bed, the shadows of that nightmare still clinging to the edges of my mind. I glanced over at the nightstand; the clock read 6:45 AM. Relief washed over me—there was still enough time to gather my thoughts and get ready for my flight.

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I opened the car door and squeezed into the backseat beside my mother. There was more than enough room for both of us, but at that moment, the space felt stifling, as if the air itself was heavy with unspoken words. I found myself staring out the window, watching the London streets blur by as we drove to the airport.

The ride was silent, each of us lost in our thoughts. I could feel my mother's concerned glances, but I refused to meet her eyes. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions - anger, frustration, and a deep-seated anxiety about what awaited us back home.

Before I knew it, we were boarding our private jet. As we settled in, I heard my mother instruct the attendant to tell the captain we were ready for departure. Her calm, authoritative tone grated on my already tattered nerves.

As the jet engines roared to life, preparing for takeoff, I turned away from her, staring out the window at the runway. The distance between us felt far greater than the physical space in the luxurious cabin.

As we lifted off, leaving London behind, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were flying straight into a storm of my father's making. Once again, I found myself caught between my mother's attempts at peacemaking and my own raw, unresolved anger. The journey home was going to be long in more ways than one.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I turned to her. "Mother," I began, my voice tight with suppressed emotion.

"Yeah?" she responded, her tone cautious.

"What did he want now, Mom?" I asked, the words coming out harsher than I intended.

She feigned ignorance. "Who?"

"Dad," I spat out, gritting my teeth in frustration. "What did he want now?"

My mother's face softened, and I braced myself for what I knew was coming. "Jenny, I can understand that he had said and done many horrible things to you, but you see, after all, he's your dad," she said, her voice maddeningly calm.

I felt a surge of anger rise within me. "Mom, please. I clearly know what kind of person he is, and I still don't understand why you are defending him."

She tried to interject, "No Jenny, it's not lik-" but I cut her off, unable to contain my frustration any longer.

"Uh-huh, nope," I interrupted, my voice rising. "If I'm being honest, you always do this, defending him. I just don't understand why. If you really cared about your children, you wouldn't be doing this."