Isabela Part 2

"You should have fought for me, defended me. I would kill a man if he abused my child! I would die protecting a child who didn’t ask to come into this world. You were all I had, damn it!"
"I know. I was a coward!"
"You were a coward because you were an abuser too! Mom, you tortured me physically and emotionally. You destroyed me. And I will never be able to forgive you. When you die, I’ll cry at your grave, but I will never get rid of the wounds you left. No one hurt me like you did. Not even the pedophile you married. You’re the one who truly broke me. I expected love from you.
But that was the one thing you never gave me."
"I know. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I wouldn’t dare ask for it."
"Good!"
There’s a lump in my throat, a weight gathering on my shoulders. And bile threatens to rise to my mouth with every word I speak. There’s no pleasure in throwing the truth in your face. I never wanted to see you again. But it’s the burden I will always carry: being the daughter of this woman.
"I messed up a lot in my life, and I tried to kill myself the same way I saw you do that night. You’ve seen me cutting myself when you were just a baby, when your dad was cheating on me with women from work, and I, desperate, with a small child, cut myself because I didn’t know what else to do," she says, seeming to gather the last scraps of strength left in her body, wrecked by chemotherapy. Liar! My dad would never cheat on her! "That’s why my love for you was tainted. I blamed you for being tied to Lucas. He was a womanizer, even though he was sweet and kind as a husband, even though he was an excellent father to you. But he lied when it came to other women.
I always mutilated myself to cope with that." She shows me her wrists covered in scars, identical to mine. I never saw that shit, she always wore long-sleeved dresses. I… I don’t want to be like this woman. I will never do that again. I’m not like her. We’re not the same! God! My head is going to explode. "I left in your brain, in your unconscious mind, the memory that a cut could ease the pain. And it’s one of the many things I’ll never forgive myself for. One of the sentences that guarantee my privileged spot in hell."
"Liar!" I scream, slamming my clenched fists into the arms of the leather chair as her words about my dad echo in my mind. These damn light walls shouldn’t be the place for this wretched woman. She should be behind bars with her ex-husband! "Are you really going to try and tarnish my dad’s image before you die? You liar! Mom, you’re a narcissistic bitch, and I don’t even know why I came here! You don’t deserve my love."
I stand up, furious that she had the audacity to claim my dad was a cheater. He was sweet, and just, and good! My dad was the only person I ever loved in my life. She has no right to do this.
My chest is boiling with rage. I’m possessed, itching to break everything. To shake her by the arms and ask why she’s so hell-bent on hurting me. And how she dares say my dad’s supposed cheating would have affected her love for me? She’s the one who was never capable of loving.
Why did I subject myself to this?
Why did I come to watch this wretched snake take her last breath?
"Isabela, I need to tell the truth before I die," she says weakly. I’m unmoving, gripping the damn door handle, desperate to get away from Diana’s traitorous mouth. "Your father was as much a liar as the woman you call your grandmother, the one who ended your relationship when you were fifteen. I didn’t call you here to beg for forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve your love." My steps freeze. Hot tears stream from the deepest pit of despair within me, and I know I should run. I’m sure the cursed chill down my spine that I feel when my world is about to collapse is a warning. Run, Isabela! Live a perfect lie! Pretend your mother never said that. Don’t let her destroy the only sandcastle you have left. Don’t let her stomp on it and tear it all down. "Hellen always knew what your life was like in our house."
I fall to my knees.
The world collapses on my shoulders once again, making me doubt how much more I can bear without dying.
I’m not crying.
I’m screaming.
In despair.
In pain.
There’s no more space to rip pieces out of my heart. It can’t function without so many essential parts.
"Mom…" I beg, feeling the familiar scent of beach days around me. Ana has entered the room, and she’s wrapping her warm arms around me, whispering that we should leave. "She’s lying to me, friend. She’s killing me."
"Stop talking, for God’s sake!" Ana begs my mother, giving in to tears along with me.
"Isabela, I asked your grandmother to take you in when you told me Marcos was spying on you in the shower. And I won’t lie: she slapped me across the face and asked what kind of mother I was. Hellen really wanted to take you. But your grandmother has a long list of lawsuits over birth defects in children as a side effect of one of the drugs she sells. She’s neck-deep in shit. So she’s always been under my ex-husband’s thumb, who sold her the profits from those lawsuits for a good amount whenever she asked for your custody." I try to cover my ears, fighting to force my brain to erase the image of the day I arrived at Hellen’s house and saw one of Marcos’ interns leaving her place when I was fifteen, while I was already with Nate. I tried to lie to myself that it could’ve been some message from my mother. I chose to deceive myself, so I wouldn’t lose the last bit of foundation I had. "Hellen was blackmailed by him, who started withholding the proceeds from those lawsuits every time she asked me for your custody. Your grandmother chose her fortune, forged in pain, her wealth built on the tears of other families, on your tears."
My mother is a manipulative bitch. She always tries to triangulate and shift the blame onto others so her own mess looks less filthy.