Broken By Secrets

02.

I am baffled by how the silence in my grandmother's bedroom grows into the night, even the clock does not seem to be working at this moment. My grandmother having indubitably nothing to say only show one thing-Lily Rosetta may know too much information about me, pieces of my life that i know nothing about.

Could she be right?

What did she mean?

And Grant? My name does not sound that great with the last name Grant. Reese Grant.

“Majorie Scottson . I know you well enough to say that something is definitely going on here and you are going to tell me.”    I had to ask even when i knew it pissed her off when i called her by name.

What amazed me the most was when my grandmother took a deep sigh and uttered eight words that change my life utterly.

“it is time you know the full truth.”

What?

**********************************************

A FEW DAYS LATER.

“Leave me alone!” shouting to my 'motherʼ

“Honey, let me explain what happened.” Monica pleads

I do not understand why she wants to explain when there is nothing more i need to understand. The mere thought of being lied to all my life is excruciating enough that i will not accept any justifications for putting me in this situation.

And what do i call myself?

Diane Reese or Emilia?

A more clearer picture now exists in my head exactly why my parents resent my aunt Amanda and her husband George.

“i do not want to see you anywhere near that woman, do you hear me!”

The words echoed in my mind all these years, i blindly and simply obeyed my mother when she instructed my siblings and i to play far away from our aunt and uncle, the reason that was given as to why we should is that they were 'bad influences'.

I remember reading a story about a woman getting physically and sexually abused by her own husband. She did not report him to the police for abusing her because she ended up pregnant with his child and he eventually got better with her and the abuse seemed to have disappeared. However, months later after she got back to the house after labour, it was if she walked straight into the lions' den again. The abuse ended the day the woman decided to give her two week daughter to her mother to raise but was refused and given to her youngest sister who just recently got married and was absolutely not thrilled about the idea of raising the daughter of her abused sister and her abusive husband.

I would have never known that the two week old baby being tossed around in that news article 22 years ago was none other than myself. How did i not notice that such a life story could possibly be mine. So the couple who raised me up as their own are actually my aunt and uncle, the couple i grew up being told not to get anywhere near are my parents biologically. What life is this?

The question to that answer is rather mysterious.
I have to find my aunt and uncle, rather my parents.

**********************************************

“Honey, can i come in?” My grandmother asks and i could feel the worry in her voice.

“Come in, grandma.” 

The mere thought of my grandmother trying to stop the missionary conquest i am embarking on gives me such confidence in myself not letting anybody discourage the choice i just made by myself for myself.

“what?...what is goi-”

“I know what you are thinking, i have to do this for myself! ”  I cut her from her trails before she tries to say anything.

From the expression on her face i could tell she immediately understood my situation. All my life i have spent every birthday wondering why my aunt and uncle were never present, all i ever got from them was a birthday card for my sixteenth party and a “Congratulations” card when i graduated high school two years ago. Now that i am a Sophomore at Harvard.

I find myself searching for my aunt's house and the frustration i have with twenty two physical addresses is weighing on me,i even notice a pound or two momentarily whisking away-finally.

By the time i had traveled across town in this quest, a rather disturbing call with an unknown number flashing from my screen turns me into a nervous wreck. It was my grandmother and she insists that i return home right away, for some odd reason i do not have an ounce of resistance so i grab my bag and fly back.

The minute i step inside the house i smell an unfamiliar scent of a strong perfume that not only confirms what i think is happening but also sends chills to my rather tired body.

“Aunt Amanda!”

“Uncle George!”