FELICITY

EPILOGUE

It has been five years now that I have lived without my love and I hurt the same way I did when he left me. Every year is like a fog that is slowly disappearing; the memories I have of him get fainter each year and I hardly have anything to hold on to that will remind me of him. I still hate myself, I really do. I look at my reflection everyday and think 'why am I even here'. I do not deserve to be here over Timothy. I should have never even been born in the first place, that was the second mistake, the first was the rape of Madam, I came from evil therefore I became an evil seed in this world planted to get rid of the goodness that was Timothy.

Timothy was almost right when he guessed my age, Madam was forced to give out information regarding myself that she kept hidden. I was sixteen when I met him, I was sixteen when I escaped that place because of him. Madam said I was eight when she pushed me into that dark hole, which means she kept me there for eight long torturous years.

Two years ago I visited Madam in prison. Like the officer predicted she was sentenced to life in prison. I visited her not to see how she was doing, not to make sure she was suffering, but just to look at her and try to understand her. I also went there to find a way to forgive her for I do not want to spend the rest of my life hating someone that is dead to me. I cannot not say I have completely forgiven her, it is hard to do that when the wounds I look at everyday are a constant reminder of her relentless cruelty. The day I visited her I remember sitting behind the glass that separated us, I picked up the telephone and just placed it on my ears, she did the same. I sat there unmoved and I stared at her, she could not speak either. She looked at me but I could not figure out what ran through her mind. It seemed like regret but I can never be sure. After five minutes of us staring at each other, I got up and left. 

I just celebrated my twenty-first birthday, I would not call it much of a celebration, some people I met at the university tried to throw me a party, I stayed for ten minutes and left. It was not a party without Timothy, there was nothing for me to celebrate. It is especially depressing because I am now the age that Timothy was when he died. Today he would have been a twenty-six-year-old man, maybe even my husband.

Four years ago I began receiving education at a private school, the people there were really nice, but I always kept to myself. I did not want any friends, because friends make you happy and I did not think I deserved any happiness. I graduated after two years, they thought I would be there longer, but they said my intelligence shocked them. I enrolled into a University that same year and I have just begun my third year. I am studying to become a psychologist; I want to understand people and help them understand themselves.

I live in a nice, small apartment that one of my caretakers is generously paying for. She is a fifty-year-old cheerful woman with no children of her own, her husband died a year after they were married and she never re-married. I wonder if I will end up like her, I wonder if I will be able to move on from Timothy, or if I even want or deserve to. My apartment has many windows which I always leave open; I lived in darkness for far too long.

Last night I had a dream, Timothy was in it. I dream of him quite a few times but last night's was the most vivid. Once again he told me that he wants me to be happy. He also asked me to stop punishing myself and allow people to love me, even men. The problem is, I do not think anyone else can make me melt with sweet words like the ones he showered me with. In all my life he was the only person who could make me smile a genuine smile that made all my problems seem non-existent. I will forever compare anyone I meet to him. Timothy was the sky and everyone I see is either the sun, moon or stars, they are great, but everything they have is what the sky holds.

After seeing Timothy in my dreams last night, I made up my mind to do something I had been contemplating ever since I got freed from Madam. After waiting for so long I think my heart can handle it, today, I shall watch Cinderella. I want to finally know why he insisted on calling me that peculiar name.

I walk into the kitchen and I pack enough snacks for two — enough for me and Timothy to feast on.

I balance on the sofa and I wait for the movie to start, luckily it shows in five minutes, Cinderella is always showing on the television these days. The movie starts and I see that it is an animation. I laugh at the fact that Timothy watched this, he did not strike me as a man who would watch animated movies. He did say he has a sister, maybe she made him watch it. My heart sinks in my chest when I think of the fact that he never got the chance to keep his promise of introducing me to his sister. Death turned him into a man who would never keep his promises. I shake off the sad thought and I put my full focus on the movie and my snack. Cinderella comes on the screen and my goodness is she gorgeous. I do not deserve to share her name. I keep on watching, and a particular scene catches my attention: The clock strikes 12 at the ball and Cinderella is terrified, she must run back to her home before her wicked step mother realizes she is gone. The first night I met Timothy I told him I needed to be home by midnight, just like Cinderella. Although Timothy did not realize this when he gave me that name, my life is much like Cinderella's. Like her I have a mother that does not love me, and I was trapped and eventually saved by my Prince.

Painstakingly, I watch the movie till it is over. When it is done I find that my face is terribly wet from tears. Watching this brought back so many memories about my life, about the pain I suffered from Madam and about the love I enjoyed with Timothy. Truly I am like Cinderella, and if my life mirrors hers, then that means I will have a happy ending. I must. I am still crying but it is not exactly sad tears now. Even without Timothy I know I will have my happy moment too. I will be happy. I hug myself tight and imagine I am hugging Timothy. And then with him on my mind, I place a kiss on the locket around my neck, and then I let sleep take me.

I wake up the next morning feeling rejuvenated. I shall go out today for some air, I have lacked freedom for so long and by confining myself to this apartment, I am only going back to that place and time that I desperately wanted to escape.

I shower and put on my nicest dress; a beautiful deep yellow A-line dress that stopped right at my knee, and I wear a baby blue cardigan over it. I finish my outfit by placing my locket around my neck like I always do. I brush my hair, grab a novel, put on some black shoes walk out the door. There is a park not too far from my apartment, so I walk under the blinding sunlight toward the park. My hair is gently lifted by the soft wind and I watch as children run around carelessly, under the supervision of their parents. I smile. 

I soon arrive at the park and make myself comfortable on an empty bench that faces a beautiful garden. I settle down and start exploring the book in my hand; 1984 by George Orwell, the librarian promised me it will be a brilliant read. I read the first page and then I flip to the next, as I do so the paper slides sharply against my index finger and cuts it. I flinch and I pull back my finger in pain. I press my thumb together with my index finger to reduce the bleeding.

"Here," someone says from beside me, and then I see a checkered handkerchief being stretched out to me. I take it and I wrap it around my finger.

"Thank you," I say, looking up.

Beside me is a nicely-dressed man who looks like he is in his early thirties. I did not even notice him take a seat beside me. I get so sucked into books that sometimes I fail to notice what is happening around me. "You're welcome, love" he smiles. "I'm Christopher by the way," he stretches a hand out to me. I notice that he has an accent similar to Timothy's.

"You're British?" I ask as I take his outstretched hands in mine.

"Affirmative," he smiles. He is very handsome, I cannot deny. He has red hair and dimpled cheeks, a nice smile and piercing green eyes. "What's your name, love?" He asks. This question causes me to freeze. I have never really had to introduce myself to anyone, most people do that for me and I squirm whenever they say the name Felicity. But this young man who reminds me of Timothy has made me realize that I have nothing permanent to remember Timothy by. I know I have the locket, and I have the pictures he drew of me framed and placed on my wall, but I do not have anything that is sure to last forever. Something that will remind me of him everyday, something that is ours.

I look at Christopher and he is looking at me expectantly. He must think I am crazy for drifting off the way I am doing. A tear slips out of my eyes, but I have a big smile on my face. It time to move on, but I refuse to move on without Timothy. And so, I look Christopher in his eyes and almost breathlessly, I reply;

"Cinderella"

THE END.