Page 2 of Soulless Rivalry

I couldn’t help but notice the distinct similarity between them and my mom: blond hair, hazel eyes, pale skin… it made sense they looked so alike.

After all, they were her family.

A family she ran away from ten years ago to be with my dad.

A part of me was a little jealous. They looked so much like they belonged together and I was the odd one out.

With my brown, wavy hair, tan skin and dark eyes, I couldn’t have been more different than the men and women in this room.

One man in particular was standing right behind the old guy, a hand gripping the back of his leather chair, his eyes strained on me. Glaring.

I took a step back and hid behind mamma a little, clearly intimidated.

A woman with short straight blond hair was sitting on a corner of the large desk. She was wearing a white blouse with a tight red skirt that stopped right under her knees; her legs were crossed and bright red stilettos adorned her feet. She kept looking between me and mom, pinching her lips together like she was dying to say something but couldn’t. Her eyes were glassy; she was holding back tears.

But it was her face that made me blink twice; it was exactly the same as mamma’s.

Twins.

My mom had a twin sister and it had taken me ten years to discover it.

She had a whole life aside from the one she built with me, and realizing it made it hard to breathe.

I didn’t linger on the other people around us, but there were three men total, including the one glaring daggers at me, and two women. The other woman, taller and a bit older than mamma, was smirking haughtily, like she knew something we didn’t.

But even though they all looked at us, mom didn’t spare anyone a glance, not anyone but the old man behind the desk.

Her father.

When he got up suddenly, my breath caught in my throat, and I knew I wasn’t the only one. I felt mamma tense, her hand trembling in mine.

I squeezed her hand, sending her some of my strength, even though it was scarce.

The woman on the desk sat a little straighter, her eyes finding mine immediately.

Heavy steps echoed around us as the old man walked up to where we’d been standing. He wasn’t the tallest man I’d ever seen, but he still hovered well over me and was a few inches taller than mamma. His suit was black and perfect, not a thread was out of place and it fit him perfectly. A big, silver ring adorned his pinky finger and as he came to stand right in front of us, I saw a feather was engraved on it.

I didn’t have time to linger on it, because next thing I knew, he brought his hand up and delivered a sharp blow right to my mother’s face.

I screamed in fright and surprise.

Mamma didn’t.

As I got older, I understood why.

It was better not to, and she knew it.

The force of the blow was so hard it made her stumble down to the floor.

I threw myself on her, circling her neck with my small arms, ready to act like a human shield, but there was no need.

He was done for now.

Mom’s hand rubbed slowly at my back to reassure me but it was no use, my whole body was shaking with shock and fear.

Baba had never been violent, not once. Neither with me nor mamma and certainly not with Jedde.

When I looked up at my mother, the whole right side of her face was red and starting to swell; her lip was split, blood seeping from it, probably from the impact of the man’s ring.

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