Page 35 of Speak No Claim

Something in her voice rooted me to the ground I stood on.

“Stop following that curiosity of yours just because someone tells you no. Do you understand me?”

“That’s an impossible request.”

“Do not mistake our woods for your rainforest, little girl. They’re not just trees. They’re witnesses.”

“To what exactly?”

Her tone dropped a little, and she backed away from me. “If you insist on wandering into places you don’t belong in”—her gaze drifted toward the direction of the Devereaux estate—“then be entirely prepared to find what you’re looking for.” She eyed me up and down with a look of disdain and disappointment. “Before it finds you first.”

Not surrendering, I argued, “Is that a threat?”

“No, my darling girl.” She simply spoke with conviction, “It’s a promise.” She spun and left.

I stayed there for a few seconds, inhaling a deep breath. My stare also wandered to the Devereaux estate.

Did she mean those woods or my uncle’s?

I walked into my bedroom, throwing my backpack next to the ripped dress that hadn’t moved from the chair I left it in. I told the housekeeper I didn’t need them to clean my space and that I could handle it myself. I appreciated that they actually listened to me. They seemed to be the only ones who were.

I jumped in the shower, trying to wash away the unpleasant day, aware it was only the beginning of something I wasn’t prepared for. I was always a firm believer that water had the power to change your timeline. Standing beneath the steam felt calming.

The shower was big enough to fit an army, with jets splattering in all directions. The rainforest showerhead was my favorite part. I stood there, trying to pretend it was a waterfall cascading down on me. Once the fantasy wore off, I dried off with a towel, then changed into a pair of white cotton shorts and a white tank top.

This was what I normally wore at home. It was probably a little too revealing, but I was alone, and I knew I’d be for at least the rest of the night. Since it was getting a bit chilly, I grabbed an oversized hoodie next, feeling at home in my comfort clothes.

Twisting my long wavy hair into a messy bun, I slid a pencil through it to hold it up before sliding my phone into my hoodie pocket. Not bothering with any shoes or socks, I made my way back downstairs.

There was no second-guessing myself. I did what I wanted to do since the moment I stepped through the front door… I walked into the backyard. Nature had always been my happy place, and I refused to follow orders on something I felt so dear to my heart.

The stone steps led to an enormous pool and patio. It was picturesque with the sun setting perfectly over the horizon. The travertine stretched for what looked like acres, wrapping around an infinity pool that could have belonged to a luxury resort rather than someone’s home.

Water spilled over the edge, disappearing into an untouched forest. My gaze wandered farther down the cobblestone path where perfectly manicured gardens burst with roses, lavender, and other flowers extending for miles upon miles.

Marble and stone statues stood like silent warriors among the sculpted edges. Their faces were still prominently showing, despite all the rain and snow they endured through the years. I didn’t recognize any of their faces. None of them looked familiar to me. They were strangers as much as everyone else had been.

Everything I saw was immaculate, pristine to the point of being obnoxious. Almost like someone had torn open a magazine and designed this estate from that alone. It didn’t feel lived in, though. Nothing was out of place, not even a towel or a cushion or a pillow. It was preservation more than a home, a museum of sorts.

Unlike his estate, the woods weren’t polished. They were wild, calling out to me. The scent of pine drifted through the yard. Birds chirped somewhere high in the trees while the breeze carried the earthy smell of moss and damp leaves.

For the first time all day…

I could breathe.

While I was growing up, whenever life became too loud, nature always reminded me the world was bigger than whatever was hurting me.

I stepped off the stone patio and into the grass. The cool blades tickled my feet. Without thinking, I just kept walking past the garden and the old fountain, toward the tree line. The woods welcomed me like an old friend.

I found an outhouse that stored anything you’d need for the outdoors. I grabbed a flashlight, a few logs, and some matches, deciding it’d be a nice night to start a fire under the stars and moon.

It was one of my favorite things to do: be one with the earth. I didn’t notice how far I’d gone, stopping when it felt right to. After I built a small fire, I turned on my playlist and listened to “Le Dije a Papa” by Eva Ayllón. A traditional Afro-Peruvian song titled “I Told Dad.”

It seemed fitting for what I was going through. It was a daughter singing to her father, searching for pieces of herself through the music.

I knew how to dance to all sorts of music, but this one was my top choice. Something about the beat made me feel like my ancestors were calling. Dancing wasn’t just a hobby for me. It was woven into my upbringing.

Music was a huge part of my culture, and I performed for people from all over the world. I was one of the dancers at our resort, and I loved every second of it. Out of all the tasks I helped with, this one was by far my favorite. My body was made to move. It was who I was. It was how I was born. It spoke to me in so many different ways, saving my sanity more times than I could count.