Pretty lies

fifty two- abuela

Isadora Rose:

The sun beams down on my face as my body gradually adjusts to sit up on the bed. I didn't sleep a wink last night, neither did Alessandro- and this was not for good reason.

Every time I'd find myself ready to fall asleep, I'd catch a glimpse of something strange in the corner of my eye. It was always that or I'd hear what sounds to be footsteps.

Alessandro and his men checked the house three times over and nothing indicating an intruder could be found. They all told me that I shouldn't worry and that it was probably one of the kids sleep walking or something. I know what I saw and I know what I heard, so I didn't believe a word.

Considering he had only managed to fall asleep in the early hours of this morning, I didn't attempt to wake Alessandro. He looked far too peaceful for me to disturb it. I cautiously twist to pull myself up and out of the bed as I make my way to the bathroom.

A steaming shower should fix everything.

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A steaming shower did fix everything.

Something about the steam consuming up the space like a tsunami would land. Now standing in my closet, back in a satin robe, the only thought lingering in my mind is whether I should go for the blue or the-

"The red one would suit you beautifully, neita."

That voice. It rings through my ears as the room fills with an every silence. I want to turn around but my legs don't move an inch, keeping me grounded.

"Please look at me."

She's not here. She's not here.

"I'm not a very patient woman and you know that, mi vida."

I grip the shirt in my hand as if it were the only thing keeping me from colliding with the ground. My nails could've pierced holes through the fabric from the sheer pressure applied.

This was the moment I had been awaiting for such a long time yet I couldn't bring myself to face the truth. In my mind, it is all a figment of my imagination until my eyes meet hers.

A gentle hand comes up to graze my shoulder. Her touch burns against my skin as my chest heaves like a beating drum.

"I am so so sorry."

Those are the words that make me spin to face her, mi abuela. She looks at me with me a sorrowful gaze that I can only combat with my own hateful eyes.

"If you were truly sorry for me and my family, you wouldn't have done this to us." I tell her through gritted teeth as traitorous tears threaten to fall down my face.

"It wasn't meant to happen this way, but it had to happen one way or another and things just happened to fall into place." She tells before pulling up a seat for her and I.

I reluctantly sit across from her with reminders of her lack of presence in this disaster that is now my life take over each and every thought. She seems so painfully calm that it almost hurts me. Does she not care? Does she?

"Why did you do this to me?" My voice betrays me as it cracks at each syllable.

"I never meant to hurt you, but I know it may seem that way. I did leave a letter-"

"Yeah, I got your fucking letter. Did you plan the welcoming party too?" I snap at her as more memories come rushing back in harsh waves.

"That was out of my control."