Shattered Innocence

Secrets Unveiled

The drive to the church located on the outskirts of the small town only takes another hour. It's approximately thirty minutes from the estate I grew up in, and it's also the church where I was baptized, against my father's beliefs. He didn't believe in any higher power or deity, only in what he could perceive with his senses. However, having unbaptized children made him stand out in our close-knit community, and he wanted to fit in. Consequently, we were compelled to have the ceremony, and now he must have a service and be laid to rest in the same hallowed grounds he criticized. The engine of my motorcycle rumbles loudly as I pull into the attached car park, habitually choosing a spot near the exit.

After removing my helmet, I notice a group of older ladies and gentlemen in military attire staring at me, most likely due to the noise of my bike. They soon turn their attention to greet the vicar standing at the open double doors. The church bells remain silent, and the enormous stained-glass windows allow sunlight to stream into the vast, one-room church with its lofty arched ceilings, ancient stone pillars engraved with names and dates, and hard, uncomfortable wooden pews adorned with colorful kneeling cushions. Letting out a sigh, I turn off the bike and scan the area and car park, searching for my sister, Lily. However, I don't see her and wonder if she is already inside or if she didn't come.

She probably still has affection for Father, completely unaware of his monstrous actions, but I can't be certain. She maintained contact with him and even lived with him until about two years ago to save on medical school expenses. After all, Father believed in self-reliance and would never have paid a penny for her education, likely expecting her to learn to fend for herself. He was most likely disappointed that she didn't pursue a career in scientific research like him, as she had both the intellect and the drive. So why did she choose a different path? I suppose I'll find out. I just need to gather my courage, enter the church, and hope I don't cause any trouble. The thought amuses me briefly before fading away. It's more likely that I'll be recognized, recaptured, or followed—perhaps even harmed. He might have given orders, and his acquaintances could be on the lookout for me.

However, I no longer resemble the compliant and obedient Nora who ran away, and that works to my advantage. Hanging my helmet on the bike, I put on my sunglasses and take a moment to glance back at the cars behind me. There are several BMWs, Audis, a Rolls Royce, a couple of Mercedes... and a black SUV that stands out at the end of the row. Nevertheless, I shrug off any concerns and decide to stop being afraid and head inside the church. If they want me, they'll have to deal with me first. Passing through the squeaky wrought iron gate, I stroll down the cobbled path and join the line of mourners. When it's my turn to enter, I nod at the vicar as he hands me a small booklet, which I open with a snort. The booklet reads, "Beloved father and friend. Dr. Thompson was an inspiration to everyone he met, a diligent worker, and a genuinely good person." I mutter under my breath,

"What a load of rubbish." The older vicar looks at me quizzically and says, "Excuse me?" I quickly correct myself,

"I said, beautiful." He nods but appears puzzled. Passing through the ornate entrance, I scan the crowded pews. It's not until she stands at the front, wearing a knee-length black dress, a cardigan, tights, and flats, she exudes an impeccable sense of elegance. Her demeanor is composed and flawless, evident in the graceful way she accepts condolences and greets people. I find it hard to look away from her, but as the door shuts behind me, I quickly take refuge at the end of an empty pew. A man in the neighboring pew glances over and offers me the familiar sympathetic smile one often wears at funerals.

"Did you know him well?" he asks. "Probably better than anyone," I reply. "I'm sorry for your loss," he offers with a tinge of sadness.

"Don't be," I retort, leaning back and propping my legs up on the pew. I observe the vicar making his way down the aisle towards the podium at the front. The man I was speaking to gapes momentarily before leaning in to whisper to his wife, who then glances in my direction. I lower my sunglasses and wink at her. She gasps and swiftly turns her focus forward, causing me to chuckle as the organ music begins to play. I nearly drift off to sleep, but then the vicar starts speaking. He drones on about my father, his speech punctuated with hymns and heartfelt tributes. And then it's her turn. Lily. She stands with her hands clasped at her belly, making her way to the microphone, her eyes filled with sadness and lowered gaze. Her hands tremble slightly, betraying her nervousness. I know she dislikes public speaking and being the center of attention. Lily delicately clears her throat, and I notice that her exquisite features remain the same, only grown-up now.