When Bluebirds Fly | ✔

Part Three : Chapter Seventeen

Stop shaking, stop, stop, stop! I mentally chided my fingers which trembled as they scrolled through the pictures, my eyes concentrating on the twitches of my fingers instead of the pictures which unravelled in the background of my vision. I had seen enough, yet I couldn't stop myself. A video appeared too and I accidentally clicked on it, him masturbating to my naked body, standing just a few steps away as I lay unconscious. I was hopeless and pathetic looking, my eyes closed, my hair dishevelled, my breasts drooping, my nipples erect and the dark hair of my nether region, all seemed lifeless. He had rendered all those parts dead with every callous touch like a finger prodding at a shame plant.

But it was me, my body.

Goosebumps rose on my back and like waves, the fear and discomfort engulfed me, over and over again.

I shut my phone, placing it on the desk when Marta knocked on the door. "What happened, Mariana?"

I swallowed hard, wiping my eyes with the end of my t-shirt. "What do you mean, what happened?"

She gingerly entered, rocking a sleeping Juan in her arms. "You don't look well. I know you didn't sleep well last night."

"Oh, just boyfriend problems."

There was doubt written all over her troubled face, but she nodded as coolly as she could. "Maybe you shouldn't have gone last night."

"Maybe." I shrugged, but my muscles tensed when she stood close to the desk, my phone right next to her fingers that were drumming against the wood. The sound struck a sensitive chord in me as I mechanically stood up, grabbed my phone and under the scrutiny of her, headed straight out. "I'll be back soon."

My voice had wavered at 'soon' in spite of my self-restraint and the moment that I stepped out of the warmth of the house, tears rolled down my cheeks like a frail boat which had been fighting against the stormy wind and finally tipped over in the ocean. I didn't know where I wanted to go, in fact, I didn't want to go anywhere at all. I wanted to be in the deepest, bottom of this earth where no one could see me and I would be left alone, unbothered, untouched, unviolated.

Goosebumps rose on my back and like waves, the fear and discomfort engulfed me, over and over again.

I paced on the street, a sense of agitation and urgency to do hell knew what bent me at their mercy. I desperately searched for something, what, I didn't know as I kept hitting the back of my phone on the palm of my hand. My restless eyes landed on a public toilet and I entered it, shutting the door and burying my face in my hands.

In the confines of the room, the much-needed privacy elicited more tears which refused to cease. Thoughts of my father and Isaac made something lodge and constrict in my chest as I let out short, forceful breaths, hoping to get that out. Eventually, I had to lean against the dirty, stained wall, to catch myself from falling into the bottomless pits of ruination.

My eyes were puffy and sore, they hurt as I stepped in the sunlight. I was blinking rapidly so I could see clearly while trying to breathe, the constriction of my chest had reached my nose now, blocking it completely. My breathing was noisy and some people passing by gave me odd looks as if I had committed a crime and had the audacity to walk freely.

Or did they know . . . ?

Now I was sprinting to the house, wishing to not attract any such looks. However, in my despondent state, I soon realised that I didn't know where the fuck I was. I didn't possess the admirable courage in me to open my phone and come face-to-face with the video again, so I asked some random stranger who gave me stranger looks at how haunted I must have appeared. Eventually, I found myself in front of the loving house, alienated from all the warmth because of the coldness residing in me.

My eyes were no longer hurting, I felt the dead weight of my eyelids as I looked up. The sky was dark and the sunlight which had irritated me was no longer present. My face felt fewer sensations as I walked abstractedly to the door, ringing the bell and smiling kindly at abuela.

"Oh, child, what happened to you?" She anxiously held my shoulders.

My smiled widened. "Nothing. I just studied a lot at the library."

"You'll get sick if you study so much! Come in, first have a nice, hot bath and then eat. Your father has come to visit you," she announced, taking me in by my hand and leading me straight to the bathroom.

"Papá?"

"Sí, sí. Ha estado esperando en su habitación," she said, letting the water gush from the tap and fill the spotless tub.

"But why?"

"I don't know. He got Juan this- what's that thing that flies and makes this noise?" She imitated the sound of a helicopter, her hand checking the temperature of the water.

"A helicopter," I offered and her wrinkled face brightened up like a child's.

"Yes, that! I'll bring you your clothes and a towel," she said, smiling at me for the last time before closing the door.

I discarded my clothes with difficulty, my mind comparing my this body with the body in the video and the resemblance made no fresh tears well up in my eyes. I was that tired. I sank in the warm water, hugging the knees to my chest and splashing water on my face repeatedly till I got clarity. What if he had already forwarded those images to my father?

No, no, no, it couldn't be. After the last fight, Abel wouldn't want to unnecessarily provoke my father. He needed something from me, perhaps money or this body that looked innocent, unsullied under the crystal clear water. It was solely on me to get those pictures back and I felt a vague sense of purpose making my body that I was coming to despise, alive.