Page 32 of The Heart of a Villain

I swing my head toward the rose bushes spread around a bench designed specifically for Mom by our father a few years back because she loved to read in the garden, although she hasn't done that in a while.

Blooming red and white roses surround it, polluting the air with their fragrance, and I exhale in relief when I realize Mom is sitting on it. Her head is resting on the bench’s back while her eyes gaze up at the sky, her hands lying by her sides while her bare feet rest on the ground, several bruises marring her legs and arms.

“Mom,” I whisper, racing to her, and a bubble of laughter escapes me when I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her hard. “Mommy!” I whisper again, and then my brows furrow when her body stays lifeless, and the weird scent attached to her penetrates my nostrils, flipping my stomach. The desire to vomit assaults me, making me cough and lean back to study her closer.

Her eyes are unmoving, just reflecting the sky while complete sadness shapes them.

And she is cold—so, so cold. Her usually tan skin is a shade of blue, and I place my fingers on her, gently rubbing her cheek, calling her again. “Mommy?” She must be in shock. I read about such cases in the psychology books Rafael loves so much. “Mom, I’m here. It’s okay.” Since she still doesn’t react at all, I slide my hand to her chest and freeze when there is no heartbeat, panic slowly enveloping me whole, and that’s when I see it.

Just the hilt of a silver sword. It’s pierced through her middle, keeping her sitting up straight. There’s dried blood all over her white-as-snow dress, and realization hits me, so painful the shocked scream gets trapped in my throat while a buzzing in my ears begins.

Shaking my head, I step back, shutting my eyes and slapping my cheeks, refusing to believe it all, and I open my eyes once again, hoping that the earlier image was just my imagination.

But the same picture greets me, and that’s when I scream, “No!” Tears stream down my cheeks, and the air sticks in my throat while my heart crushes into tiny little pieces inside me, breaking my soul in half while the hurt consumes me.

Because my mom is dead.

“No, no,” I whisper, touching her again, rubbing her chin, and begging her, “Mom, please.” However, she—or rather, this cruel life—stays deaf to my pleadings and dumps me in hideous reality instead. “Mom.” I hug her again, uncaring about the smell, desperately trying to cling to her former warmth and thinking, even if it’s stupid, that maybe my love can bring her back to me.

In all those fairy tales, they say true love is the most powerful magic. Anything can happen as long as you have a good heart and are willing to love something beyond yourself.

I love my mom the most.

I squeeze her hard and kiss her on the cheek, stilling for a second, hoping for divine intervention to come and swirl us both in the air as the magic breathes life into her once again. I will it to give us all a second chance, while our mansion transforms back into what it used to be, breaking the curse that has haunted us for what seems like years.

Seconds, minutes, or maybe hours tick by, though, and nothing happens, while my sobs intensify, my tears soaking her body as agony shakes my entire system.

How can one live in this world without a mother?

I raise my head, slowly closing her eyes with my hand, and kiss her on the forehead, my tears dropping on her skin. “I love you, Mommy.” Willing all my strength into my fist, I wipe away my tears and decide to go find a shovel.

She can’t lie here. The birds would start to tear at her flesh. Not to mention the rotten…

I might be small, and it might take me forever, but I will dig the grave for my mother so she can rest in peace, all while ignoring the hurt eating me from the inside out.

I get up, my foot stepping on something, and I look down to see a paper sticking to my heel.

Picking it up, I read in perfect handwriting the words that inspire nothing but rage within me, so foreign and unfamiliar I’m not sure how I’m supposed to contain it.

You should have listened and never crossed me.

Now you have to face the consequences

Whoever this man is… he left a message for everyone to read, and I crunch it in my hand, right in this moment wishing to see him in front of me so I can kill him.

Because he doesn’t deserve to live after what he has done to my family.

I drop to my knees, covering my ears as pain assaults me from every corner just imagining breaking the news to my siblings, the ones who trusted me the most when I told them everything would be fine.

I don’t know where our father is, but it doesn’t matter anyway because from now on we are orphans, as the only person who truly loved us is gone.

Nausea hits me, the bile rises in my throat, and I vomit all over the ground, my head becoming dizzy from all these horrible experiences and not having anything to eat or drink in all this time.

I wish to lie down on the ground and let nature take me, following after my mom and maybe meeting her in the afterlife. My soul already yearns to be back in her arms, where everything once felt safe and right, while love poured into my every cell.

Something I’d never, ever feel again while I’m breathing.

But I cannot allow myself to be weak now. I have to be strong.

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