CHAPTER FOUR

A respected, potent oil tycoon, my father's routine of tending to his business was abruptly interrupted by my mother's two-year hospitalization, whilst my siblings and I took turns sitting in the waiting room, the place where we prayed for her fasr recovery, erasing the days from the calendar, devoting every moment to caring for our mother. Once vibrant and full of life’s lessons, she now lay fragile. Each second spent with her became a testament to sacrifice, and unyielding regret. Throughout his recounting of the ordeal, Dad's voice carries an agony, his throat raw from speaking of the pain. Amidst the tears and chaos of the funeral, my father's capacity for lamenting remains resolute and unwavering. Yet, the gentle melody of his voice eases the weight I carry, though I fear the sorrow that has long dwelled within me must now make room for the boundless anger I have kept hidden. It stirs restlessly, threatening to consume, as his voice becomes both comfort and a reminder of my turmoil. The bustling noise of this small town pales in comparison to the fury of his daughter.

On the day my mother met her horrible end, I sat trembling inside my bedroom. I bit my lips to keep them from quivering and blinked my eyes to get rid of the blur as my gaze strolled over the bedroom suspiciously and paranoidly, desperately searching for answers and unsure of what agonizing horror may have followed me here. My chest tightening despite the surrounding chaos. Amidst the noise, I barely heard the sudden wail of the ambulance siren, its faint red and blue lights flashing brightly under the intense sunlight. The contrasting urgency of the moment clashed with the stillness around me, as if time itself momentarily paused to acknowledge the chaos unfolding. The specter of rot lingered within those walls, consuming unsuspecting bystanders.

The rot voraciously consumes, relentless and unforgiving. It hides with a gentle grace, a sly deception unnoticed by the unobservant. Yet, despite its efforts, there remains an undeniable truth lurking beneath. The subtlety of its trickery may deceive for a time, but eventually, the reality it tries to mask will surface, no matter how carefully concealed since the rot cannot erode the fury of a f'ed up woman. Nestled within the hollow of my chest, anger rises like tumultuous waves crashing against stone, a fierce struggle to preserve any trace of kindness that remains. When the crafty touch of fate brushes against my sensitive soul, what destiny now awaits me? Will I succumb to the forces pulling me away from all I hold dear, or will I find the strength to resist its relentless grasp? If you must know anything, know that the hardest task is to live only once. My peers are launching business enterprises, owning rental properties, pursuing higher education, and being accountable for the betterment of their existence. That really hit home for me—the commitment to building a secure life. But all I do is act like our family is still a goddamn big deal, wasting money like there's no tomorrow just to satisfy everyone that I'm still the worshipped, envied daughter of poor f'ng Dalton Bloom.

Life was cruel in its irony.

I can't explain how fate brought me here. Just then, I opened the car window, and the evening breeze wrapped around me like a cloak. I watched the clouds, their darkening shapes heavy with meaning, as a quiet intensity settled over me, stirring something deep within, a sense of something inevitable. As I ignited the cigar and took a drag, the scented smoke wrapped around me.

Life here is so different from my life in the city. This truly is a curse. He knows how shattered my life was there. Now, he has brought me to this bleak, desolate place, where emptiness seems to stretch endlessly. It feels like I’m caught between the weight of the past and an uncertain future, searching for something to hold on to. I heaved a weary sigh and raked a hand through my already bleached hair as the idea in its entirety gave me a headache. Will I push myself further to the extent whereby I might be able to love this place and decide to cease in the high society, or will I grasp that this is the world I need to conquer? I rubbed my tired eyes and gazed up at the blue sky, now covered by soft, pearl-like light lazily drifting with the gentle breeze. I raised my palm to shield my face from the bright, harsh rays of the sun, feeling the warmth slowly seep into my porcelain skin. The soothing heat mingled with the refreshing scent of the air, grounding me in the moment. For a brief second, everything felt still, as if the world had paused just for me.

I recall the image of my father, stoic yet silent, and the absence of tears that echoes within him. This old man, weary with wisdom, might have thought it's weak to weep. Yet, in that suppression, did he not hide the very essence of what it means to be human? When I think of my mother, I see the pride in her eyes—a testament to the resilience she imparted. I wonder if they see us clearly or if they too are blinded by the ideals they hold. Can pride exist in the mess we create? Or does it only blossom in the redemption we seek?

I simply closed my eyes, unable to believe that this was happening. It felt as if the heavens and earth themselves had come crashing down upon me.

We finally makes it to our destination — the now dark, decrepit mansion that I once lived in. The dust swirled in the faint, hazy light that filtered through the dirty windows. The air was stagnant, thick with memories. I entered, my heart pounding as the familiar, unsettling atmosphere enveloped me like a cloak. As I walked through the corridor, each step felt like a whisper from my past.