Berceuse for The Suffering (Complete)

6. {The Suffering}

In the quiet depths of her mind, a storm raged. A tempest of emotions that she couldn't quite understand or control. It was as if a part of her was missing, a piece of her soul that had been torn away by some unknown force. Like someone had clawed inside her and ripped away her soul. And yet, she couldn't quite remember what had happened. All she knew was the pain that lingered, an ache that never quite went away. An ache that broke her mentally and physically. It tore away her innocence with something hard, long, and musty.

"Mommy, my pipi hurts."

"No honey, it doesn't.

"But it does."

"No, it doesn't. If we believe that, then it wouldn't."

A growl escaped her daughter's mouth.

"Mommy, it does," a cold and chilling voice screamed inside the room.

***

With a heart heavy as stone and eyes filled with tears, Martin knelt upon the cold bathroom floor, his trembling hands gently lifting Lylibeth from the unforgiving tiles. It was as if he were cradling a fragile bird in his grasp, his fingers afraid to grip too tightly lest he mars her already bruised form.

With a great effort, he rose to his full height, his gaze black as thunder as he studied Linda where she stood trembling in the doorway. It was then that Martin spoke, his words barbed with bitter pain and seething anger.

"This is all your doing," he spat, his voice thick with the taste of his own sorrow. "Your thoughtlessness and selfishness have led us to this place."

Beneath his breath, he cursed her for every misstep, every moment of inattention that had led them to this bleak and sorrowful place.

With a heart filled with grief, he carried his daughter from the bathroom, his body wracked with sobs as he deposited her upon her bed. And there, in the stillness of the room, he wept bitter tears for all that had been lost, for all that was yet to come.

Linda's face remained stoic as Martin's tears flowed down his face like a never-ending rain. The weight of his accusations and blame felt like a heavy boulder on her chest, threatening to suffocate her. Yet, she held her composure with a resolve born of a deep sense of responsibility for what had occurred.

Deep within her soul, Linda knew that her husband's words were the only truth. She had made mistakes, miscalculations, and selfish actions that had led to their child's unfortunate predicament. Her mind accepted this without question, and her posture was one of submission. But in her heart, the truth felt like a jagged blade, tearing at her sense of self-worth.

She held on to the belief that she did the right thing and that her decisions were rooted in love and concern for Lyli. But a silent whisper, one that kept knocking at her soul, questioned, Was it? Was it truly for Lyli or yourself?

Linda shook her head. She held on. Her conviction was unwavering, despite the accusations hurled her way.

As her husband continued to blame her, Linda's eyes became distant, as if she had retreated into herself. Her lips trembled with unspoken words, but she remained silent, letting her husband's tirade play out.

"Your selfishness had led to this, both of you."

Linda and Martin in unison swung their head to look at Minerva. The woman stood in the doorway. Her countenance bore the markings of life's journey, of enduring trials and tribulations, evidenced by the deep creases etched upon her visage. Her eyes, weary yet perceptive, glimmered with a sense of ancient knowledge and foreboding wisdom. The gentle slopes of her face were lined with age, yet their softness hinted at a youthfulness that belied her years.