Three Last Days - an emotional short story about Depression

Day Three - Truth

"A painful truth is better than a lie"-Thomas Mann

The moment Aurora learned the truth, she understood that she had always been wrong when she thought she knew what pain meant. It wasn't the sleeplessness, it wasn't the constant ache that riddled her body like a hailstorm, but it wasn't the feeling of emptiness and the sudden fear that crawled up your spine. No, the words that came out of Josephine's mouth, these words hit her in the pit of her stomach, they robbed her of air and threw her to the ground. The realization hit her harder than the asphalt, but she didn't lose consciousness, no, cursedly she understood everything even better.

"Your daughter ... Kara ... killed herself because she was ... raped by a ... man ..." Josephine sobbed and closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto her gold necklace and staining the pure gold. Romy gasped for air, she sank to the floor and whimpered. "I didn't mean to..." she whispered, trembling. Aurora shook her head.

"No ... that ... that can't be. That ... isn't true," the woman winced, her legs gave way and she fell onto the chair. Images flashed before her inner eye, images of Kara, her innocent smile - in the next moment these images were torn apart, an inner scream rent the air. Kara had been raped. Her daughter. "She hadn't said anything," Aurora mumbled depressed, the world spinning around her. Aurora couldn't believe it, she didn't want to believe it. "My dear Kara..." she sniffled. Then she cried. She cried and cried, her tears, her grief, all her pain bursting out of her like a thundering waterfall. As if she was letting a storm out of her veins, stormy waves that were now crashing against the surf.

"No, this... who did this to my Kara?" she sobbed. That was it. That was what her daughter had been trying to tell her. Aurora hadn't been able to understand her. She hadn't been able to understand ... her own daughter. What a terrible person she was. Her poor Kara must have been through so much.

 All those nights, her pain, her fear.

And no one could help her.

Neither Josephine, nor Romy, nor ... her own mother.A world had collapsed for Kara.

"No... Kara... I'm so sorry," her voice choked on her own tears. "I should have protected you, I'm... a terrible mother," she sobbed, covering her eyes. Josephine didn't dare move, she wanted to hug her friend, but fear held her back. Romy crouched down on the floor and sobbed quietly. "We should have told you much earlier ... but I couldn't. I was scared. Very scared," Josephine sounded hoarse. Her hands clutched Kara's diary, she held it away from her, but didn't dare throw it away.

"You've been lying to me! For years!" Aurora screamed hoarsely, with the last of her strength. She snatched the diary from Josephine and swept the plates and vases off the table. The colorful heather scattered across the floor, the purple leaves formed a puddle of wet, dark stains. Shards adorned the living room, shining treacherously in the dim light of the lamp. "How could you not tell me! My own daughter was raped! And you knew it!" Aurora screamed with her lungs full, although she wished she could choke for good. "I should have helped her! I should have found the perpetrator. But you... you closed yourselves off out of fear. So you deprived me of the opportunity to protect my Kara!" Aurora's voice faltered. How can you be so terrible and not help a young girl? What kind of people were these who had abandoned Kara?

"Humans are monsters. They are not worthy of being allowed to live. People took my daughter from me - they destroyed her life!

"Kara had come to me, she had told me - but ... I didn't believe her," Josephine confessed and fell silent.

The pain was written all over her face. Romy shook her head. "She came to me too, damn it, I didn't know what to do! I never wanted to get involved in this!" Romy tried to justify herself, but Aurora wasn't listening to her.

"Cowardly, that's what you are! Lying and cowardly!" she sniffed as she felt her heart being torn to pieces. Into a thousand, tiny, dead pieces.