AllFreeNovel
Share Us
PROLOGUE
CATALINA
I coveredmy ears and crouched down in a corner of the bedroom, while the sound of sirens filled the air. Outside, the ambulance's lights cast a red glare against the white walls of my mother's room, as she was being taken out on a gurney, a white sheet covering her body.
I had just come home from school, a good student, focused on my studies, hoping it would free me from under my father's hand. The older I got, the more I found out that my dad was not the hero I thought he was. He was into some bad stuff, paying campaigns for politicians, just so he could get away with murder. The current campaign for Mayor Beaumont was just another tactic for the law to look the other way.
My mother couldn't have the freedom that I had. Night after night, the emotional abuse would tear her down. I always wondered why she took him back. He never beat her, but he'd threaten her with killing her time and time again. Hell, he even planned how he was going to get rid of her.
As I got older, I'd scream, kick, curse at him. He never dared come near me since I'd threatened him with going live on social media with his abuse. That led to my mother's neglect. I thought, maybe stopping his words would help her, but his indifference hurt her more.
I loved my mother deeply. She was everything to me. My friend, my confidant, my protection from the world. And now, as I crouched by her bedside, remembering her eyes blankly looking back at me, I realized I was truly alone now. That love she gave me, I would never feel again.
A female social worker came into the bedroom and sat down on the floor next to me. "My name is Raven, what's yours?"
"Catalina," I whispered, hugging my knees to my chest, afraid to speak for fear of a river of tears flooding out.
"That's a pretty name," Raven said gently.
"Yeah," I managed to say.
"Catalina, I know that this must be very hard for you."
"You don't know anything. You don't know me."
The lady quieted, thinking for a second. "You're right, I don't. But I know pain. I know what the loss of a mother feels like."
My eyes were drawn to hers, and I scrutinized her carefully. She appeared youthful, in her early forties, and incredibly beautiful. Midnight black and blue strands of hair were woven into a lengthy braid that trailed down her back. Her eyes were sharp but kind, and her voice was gentle, almost melodic.
"I want you to understand that it's not your fault," she said.
"I know that. It's my father's fault," I replied.
"As long as you recognize that and don't blame yourself. I've also lost a lot, and I can tell you that it's okay to cry."
I nodded. "I can't. I'm frightened. I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."
"It's natural to be afraid, but repressing those emotions will only hurt you in the end. It's good to let it out. You're safe here. I won't tell anyone."
She didn't say anything else, but sat with me as tears streamed down my face. I wept into my knees, comforted only by the sensation of her hand on my shoulder. SHe had been kind to stay with me for as long as I needed her. When she left, that loneliness penetrated the air. I never saw the woman again after that. She had given me her card, but I never contacted her.
My father stumbled into the house a few hours later, as he always did, drunk and violent. I stood at the top of the stairs, holding a bat, ready to defend myself if he turned his rage towards me.
"Qué haces? Get out of my way, where's your mother?" he slurred.
Disgusted by him, I stared him down. He hadn't even bothered to pick up his phone to receive the news that his wife was dead.
"Muerta," I uttered.
"What are you talking about, get out of my way," he demanded.
I swung the bat over my right shoulder in a menacing way, and he stopped short.
"You're going to hit me with that? I'll cave your head in with it," he threatened.
"Get out," I repeated, my voice low and steady.
"Where is your mother?"
