Page 107 of A Beautiful Crime

Because even in her years of life I felt lonely.

Not seen.

Not heard.

Inconsequential.

And it’s a bitter truth that’s hard to swallow. To finally admit that my mamma never once saw who I really was.

Her eyes were too clouded by fear. Her heart always in a panicked state. Her mind surrounded by dark ominous clouds.

Mamma only ever saw the little girl in me. The baby she held in her arms was precious and pure. And she had wanted to protect that light she saw in me when she first cast her eyes upon me.

But mamma too, was blind.

As was I.

I’ve always been tempted by sin.

I’ve always had darkness inside me.

And instead of accepting it my mamma refused to see it.

She refused to see me.

My mamma’s own beliefs have wreaked havoc on my mind. They caused me to wage a war upon myself of good and evil, right and wrong, darkness versus the light.

Mamma believed that one person could only be all good or all bad.

And when she died I held onto that belief.

That I had to be all good for mamma. That I couldn’t be all bad like my brothers and papa.

Until the day came where I couldn’t be anymore.

And I thought I had found the meaning of loneliness on that day. I abandoned the girl mamma loved. I ruined her with one perfect shot. There was no direction in my life. No meaning without being good.

I thought that I had shed all of my innocence that night but what if I was wrong?

What if I still hold components of goodness?

What if the light inside me dances with the darkness in a beautiful rhythm?

What if I can’t exist without the two?

And how come the only person to ever truly see me, know me better than I have ever known myself, is the man who I had first loathed but have grown an undeniable connection to and feelings towards.

Constantine Donati is the only person who has made me feel seen.

The only one who has made me feel heard.

The only one who has made me consequential.

And in these past ten days apart from him, ten days of not being seen by avoidance, ten days of not one word uttered to one another, ten days of feeling bereft and hollow, I know the true meaning of loneliness.

My heart I’ve neglected flares.

As I sit at the dining table, a plate for one but longing for two, I have a strong burning sensation prickling at the back of my eyes.

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