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“Phillip,” she says, addressing him curtly as she steps into his embrace.
“I’ve missed you, little sister,” he replies while inhaling her fragrance, lost in the past.
“Let Mia go,” she pleads against his shoulder. “I beg of you, Phillip, let her go.”
The moment she pleads to his humanity, Phil snarls, pushing her away. “I haven’t seen you for so long, and you want to ruin it by begging for her life. You haven’t changed,” he spits, looking at her with disgust.
“She’s my daughter!” she cries. “And she’s your niece. You promised me you would look after her!”
I stand spellbound by the scene before me because I know the last piece of the puzzle is about to be revealed.
“You are pathetic, sister. And you’re still so fucking weak. No one forced you to leave; you made that choice all on your own.”
“I was going to come back!” she shouts, wiping away her tears.
“What?”
She was going to come back?
She never told me this. But I guess I never gave her the chance.
“Yes, your runaway mother was going to come back after she decided to grow a conscience,” Phil snaps, curling his lip in disgust as he looks at a sniveling Cynthia.
“But she didn’t?” I say, phrasing it as a question because I don’t remember her ever coming back.
“Of course she didn’t,” Phil replies with a wave of his hand. “She was too busy being a whore!”
Cynthia flinches but stands her ground. “You told me that she was happy, and that she didn’t remember me! You told me I would ruin her if I came back into her life, taking her away from the only family she ever knew. You lied to me.”
“I never prohibited you from seeing her. It was your choice to leave her in the first place.” Phil shrugs, refusing to take the blame.
“I know,” Cynthia sobs. “And it’s a decision I will have to live with for the rest of my life. But I thought she was happy. You told me you loved her and that you were looking after her. I trusted you!”
“You believed what you wanted to believe because facing the truth was too hard. You left her because you are a coward, and you’re weak. I did her a favor by raising her because if she stayed in your care, she would have grown into a weak victim…just like you. I’m ashamed to call you family,” he concludes, looking at her like she’s a piece of shit under his shoe.
“That’s not true,” Cynthia says, shaking her head. “You ruined her life!”
“She’s strong because of me!” he yells, jabbing his finger into his chest. “You would have only turned her into a sentimental fool, and I needed a winner. Someone who could help build my empire, and she did.”
“You’re sick,” I whisper, my hands shaking in rage. “You manipulated me, just like you did my mother.”
Cynthia gasps since this is the first time I have referred to her in such a way.
“I did what I had to,” he simply replies with a nonchalant shrug. “You are a somebody, Mia, not a nobody. You’re special. I could see it the minute you were born.”
“You used me!” I scream, storming over to him, not caring if he shoots me down. “I was just a child!”
“I looked after you,” he replies with a scowl.
Scoffing, I can’t stop the sarcastic laugh that bubbles from my throat. “Looked after me? You used me. And I did it because of him,” I snarl, pointing toward the van.
There is one thing, however, I can’t figure out.
If Phil was around, why don’t I have clearer memories of him? Surely, I would unquestionably remember calling him Uncle?
Wouldn’t I?
Then I realize that my self-preservation undoubtedly kicked in, blocking out the horrendous memories of my childhood. This explains the blackout period of my infancy because my mind was obviously learning to protect me from an ugly reality.
