Isabela Part 4
The day was amazing, filled with so many significant and unexpected events. It was hard to part ways with Nate, but I managed to say goodbye with a kiss so long at Grandma's house that I think I nearly ran out of oxygen from not breathing.
And my grandma still wants to know all about that kiss because I didn't even need to tell her. She noticed my swollen lips and started asking me to narrate how it was, right in front of Nate! Hellen has a way of making me shy with her special and peculiar approach. But my little guy adores her, and he answered for me, saying it was like tasting the best candy in the world. I was so embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom, leaving the two of them laughing in the living room.
Now I’m in the car because Hellen sent her driver to take me back to the damn house I live in. And even though I know I'm heading to the worst place in the world, my heart is calm. I touch my lips with my fingertips, still laughing like a fool at the thought of how much we kissed. It was so incredible, so special...
It’s already past eight when I walk down the gray brick path leading to the entrance of the flat, contemporary house in light tones. I finally open the huge white doors, feeling the dark, heavy breath of the room sending chills down my spine. I leave the key on the gray lacquered console table in the hallway, as well as my red flats on the shoe rack beneath it. I pull my hair up into a high bun to get it out of my eyes while I walk into the living room.
It's incredible how I felt like I was strolling through paradise, and now I feel like I’m walking on the coals of purgatory. This house has a macabre energy. And I hate it. I despise living here. Everything is dark, shrouded in gloom, so I flip the switch to turn on the lights. I jump back in shock when I see my mother sitting on the living room couch.
She was supposed to be at work!
She’s wearing a black satin nightgown, her hair is a mess, and there’s a horrible swelling on her right cheek. Marcos must have hit her. He always does. But the worst part is the way my mother looks at me with pure hatred, and I know all too well what awaits me when she gives me that look.
I’m always a great target for her to vent her bitterness.
Her upper lip curls into a strange laugh.
“Every week, the little whore goes to Grandma's house,” she whispers, breaking my heart with her bitter tone. I bite my upper lip, my breath heavy and my eyes overflowing. There’s an acidic glint in her brown eyes. “And comes back smiling, with that lost look... Irritating the hell out of my husband!”
I take steps back as she stands up, blood boiling in her eyes from rage. Is it possible she got hit because my stepfather didn’t like Grandma demanding I go to her house every Wednesday?
I’d say Diana breaks my heart when she acts like this with me, but she’s been grinding all the pieces of it into dust for a long time. There’s nothing left for her cruelty to erode.
“So today I decided to follow you, and you know what I discovered, daughter? That you’re finally letting the little slut inside you out,” she mocks, laughing with disdain, and I can almost see the venom dripping from her chin. The way she talks about me always hurts, but you know how they say you develop calluses where your skin usually rubs? Well, I’m calloused from having this piece-of-shit mother that life gave me. But I’m still terrified of her hitting me. “Have you given your little pussy to him?”
“Mom...” I murmur, walking backward as she slowly closes the distance between us until my back presses against the front door of the house.
It feels like I’m in a horror movie, at the mercy of an entity made of malice, because that’s what Diana strives to be: one of the nightmares haunting my soul.
“And do you give it to my husband too?”
“No, Mom...” I scream, raising my hands to try to protect myself as she lunges, taking a precise swing at my face.
I feel the sting scream on my right cheek as the slap reverberates off the walls of the house. Her harsh hands grab and pull my hair, making my scalp burn with pain. I try to break free, but she’s stronger and throws me to the ground, then kicks my stomach with such force that I feel the air escaping my body.
“Stop!” I plead, clutching my belly in desperation and fear. “You crazy woman!”
Even with the agony of pain, I manage to get up just in time to shove her against the console table, avoiding another kick. Diana loses her balance, falls backward, and bangs her head against one of the wooden legs of the piece of furniture, but I can’t even feel sorry for her grimace of pain.
In fact, my whole body is trembling with rage.
I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to live like this. This isn’t life, and she has no right to hit me or treat me like trash.
Enough, damn it!
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