Here I Stand (BWWM) (AMBW) [COMPLETED]

Chapter twenty two: Hello stranger

Isa's pov

On our way back from the park I received a call from Myong, my lawyer/ University's friend, asking me for help. Rajiv decided to look after the kids.
While the twins and Jennifer were excited to have a sleepover with Rajiv, Adaline started to fuss so I brought her with me.

"Who's in for a pj's party?!" Shouted Rajiv, "Me" they all answered, I mouthed a "Thank you" to Rajiv, kissed the kids and left, I was able to leave without worrying because it was Rajiv, I could not trust the kids with no one but him and my family and my siblings' nanny.

It took me about twenty minutes to get to the place, where Margaret was staying. Getting out of the car, I accidentally woke up Addy, she was about to start crying when I cradled her in my arms, "Che c'e mamma?" (What's wrong, mama?)
"Hi, sorry I know you're busy..." Hugged me Myong, she then grabbed Addy from me, from her voice during the phone call she was evidently in a hurry.

I entered the room and saw Margaret, sitting on the sofa in silence, "You should try talking to her, she hasn't said a word since I started to talk about the trial" suggested Myong.

I approached her, "Hey, there do you remember me, I'm Isa Thompson" I introduced myself, Margaret looked blankly at me, I'm gonna have to check your wound to see if it's healing ok" I notified her. I put on my gloves and a mask and took out my kit.

During the whole check up, Margaret kept staring at my chest, "Did he do that to you?" she whispered referring to the visible scar on my collarbone, feeling sorry, I smiled happy that she had finally talked. "Doesn't it make me look tough?" I joked caressing my new scar.

Margaret became serious again, Adaline suddenly run to me, "Ouch" I huffed after getting hit by Addy "Susa" she apologized, "This is my daughter, Adaline" I introduced her. "If you're here to convince me to press charges, it's not gonna work" she said annoyed, "No, I'm not here to do that, I'm here to know you. Now I have a Sprite, a beer and a bottle of wine, which one do you prefer?"

I was taking out the bottles from my purse when Adaline snatched the Sprite's bottle from me and run away "Hey! That's not for you, come here I have your bottle" Adaline, laughed hearing me scream, which also made Margaret smile.

Margaret grabbed a beer, and I sipped some organic fruit juice I had left in my purse. "Who are you?" " Ugh.... That's a five million dollar question, no just kidding, I am just someone who has been hurt many times by a lot of people..." I spoke slowly as the memories of those who hurt me was still painful.

Adaline stopped in front of me, "note, notte" (night, night) She said yawning, "Oh, you're tired come here" I placed her in my arms, even though she almost didn't fit anymore.

Once Adeline had passed out I laid her on the bed between two pillows. "... So do you feel like talking?" I asked shily, Margaret looked up at me "What are you a psychiatrist or something?" she inquired still hostile, and feeling insecure. I laughed, "No, I am not. So do you wanna talk or not?" I repeated "I really don't want talk about it" she admitted playing with her hands.

"Let's not talk about it then, let's talk about the good times when all we cared about was whether were gonna have ice cream after dinner" I proposed getting comfortable, she gave that look: the 'Are you high?' look, which I ignored "I didn't like chocolate that much, so I would always choose vanilla..." I rambled.

Eventually Margaret started to talk, as a sign that she was someone else, other than a victim of domestic abuse. Margaret David was a young woman, who loved dancing, dogs and late night chats accompanied by snacks.

In the end she made the decision to press charges.

Even then as comfortable as I was couldn't tell her, I my throat, my mouth, my mind, refused to make that confession behind my actions: that I too, and my mother before me had been victim of domestic violence, people often use the term pathetic to describe us, not knowing the Greek derivate of the term, which truly is one the one who has suffered.

I wasn't old enough to understand and yet it felt wrong, the first time my mom was carried away by the ambulance, I was too scared to talk, or to cry as kids should be allowed to do. The day after, life went on as if nothing had happened, except that in my mind it had not, later as I grew up, I resented my mother for it, for allowing a demon inside our home, for failing to make us feel protected, for allowing her daughters to think it was normal and okay, in the end though I could never really talk to her about it as I realized that "We accept the love we think we deserve" even if it is toxic even if it may kill us, that hit me with the sudden realization as to how we had been treated and raised to accept abuse from when just kids.

It amazed me how people who were abusive acted, their tactic to make you a stranger in your own body, among your own friends, isolating you from everything you liked and were acquainted with, in the end they were only cowards who failed to overcome their demons and instead chose to inflict others the same abuse they may have been exposed to.