Berceuse for The Suffering (Complete)

25. {Mother, Mother, Where Art Thou}

Two hours ago.

She heard the car engine roar to life, but Latifa Mercedes couldn't bring herself to go after her husband. She had no idea where he was headed, or what he was planning to do, but truthfully, she didn't care. She loved Billy. From the moment he was born, she had loved him with all her heart. She had tried to be the best mother she could be to him, and she believed, oh, she believed she had succeeded. But now, after everything her husband had revealed, she couldn't help but question where she had gone wrong. For twenty long years, she had spent her time looking out of her window, condemning Linda Adams for how she treated her child when she should have been looking at her own reflection in the windowpane.

As she heard the car drive away from their house, she whispered Billy's name. Slowly, she rose from the bed and made her way down the hallway, then descended the stairs of their home. She settled onto the living room sofa, cloaked in darkness. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to finally release the tears she had been keeping back from her husband. She had been foolish. She had been consumed with the wrong child, the wrong mother, and had been living under false pretenses. Her sobs continued for a few more minutes before she rose to her feet, walked to the cabinet beside the front door, retrieved her jacket, and left the house.

***

After Minerva left, Linda had locked the door, preventing the old woman from returning to her household. Although Linda knew it was wrong, she couldn't accept that she didn't have control over her daughter's actions. Linda had become consumed with the idea of making Lyli normal again, leading her to brainwash the demonic piece left behind by her real daughter. Unlike Martin, who saw both girls as his daughters, Linda had never truly accepted both of them. In her mind, one was her real daughter and the other was an abomination. She couldn't help but question whether her thinking was wrong.

As she ran a hand through her hair, Linda Adams cursed. She was exhausted, not just physically, but her heart and soul were tired as well. She wanted it all to end, and she wanted her daughter to be at peace. But she also wanted her daughter back, to braid her hair again, to hug her playfully without fearing a growl, and do all the things that normal mothers and adult daughters do together.

But that could never happen now, and it was her fault. If only she had held on a little longer, she could have had her Lyli back. But it was too late. The thought of burying her daughter made her heartache and forced tears to stream down her face. Just then, the sweet chime of the doorbell broke the silence of the night.

Frowning, Linda got up and headed for the door. Peeking at the peephole she saw Latifa fidgeting outside. Linda's frown deepened. It has been twenty years since the woman rang her doorbell. She had been curious and offended but never dared to question the woman why.

They were never really close, to begin with, so she never called or attempted to visit the woman. They passed by each other on many occasions but neither of them acknowledged each other. In the beginning, they threw smiles but as the years progressed, they fell into a series of simply nodding at each other or avoiding each other's gaze altogether whenever their paths crossed.

Latifa stuttered as she knocked on the door again, begging Linda to open it. "I know you're there. I heard you cry just now. Please, I need to talk to you," she pleaded.

Linda let out a sigh. She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. After taking a deep breath, she controlled her breathing and replied, "It's late, Latifa. We can talk about whatever you need to tomorrow."

The other side of the door was silent for a moment before Latifa spoke up again. "It's about your daughter," she said.

Linda furrowed her brow. "What about my daughter?" she asked.
"I-I have information about the person who raped her."