OBSIDIAN ISSUE #2 : WOUNDED

FORTY FIVE

Trigger warning

The last time I came to grips with this fledgling rage was when I confronted that same person who first mothered the scars of my past. The echoes of my wrath, fresh as a newly caught meat in my mind. The spread of shattered glass on the floor along with the fragments of my dying tolerance for everyone who caused our bleeding youth was a deafening call from a hundred yesterdays back when I was made to believe the very hope of mine has been slain.

No fuel is needed as my paces picked up. The urgency alone to face her again and strip my son out of her sight kept me pumped. Sabay sa tulin ng mga hakbang ay ang bilis din ng paghinga ko habang natatanaw ang maaaring mangyari sa mga susunod na araw ngayong harap-harapan na niya mismong nakikita ang anak ko!

Aminado akong hindi ko ito masyadong nabibigyang pansin noon. After escaping the confines of her tyranny, I thought that phase of my childhood has ended. That just because I met some good influences and the imperfect love of my life, I thought I have completely broken free.

But I had been blaming myself for situations that weren't really my fault. Or even when it was, I still perpetually crucify myself. My breezing thoughts of dying for I always believe I wasn't worth of any warmth, lest a second-hand devotion. My empathic tendencies... My recurrent desire for self-destruction!

I only had rage without looking deeply into it. That after all these years, despite to have been served with love, I still carry with me the reverberations of her ill disciplines. I have breathed the ashes of verbal persecutions. The rage in me as an armor to defend myself. The rage in me acting as power to violently writhe against the likelihod that I might turn out to be just as exactly like her.

May mga pagkakataong nagagalit ako, pero sa tuwing nasisilipan ng pag-asa na magbabago siya, lumalambot kaya mabilis ding natatablan ng kirot sa puso. Just like the phone calls I received from her and Lolo. It was probably the last and only decent conversation we had since I was also able to stand up for myself.

Until I storm inside the mansion and confronted them about their involvement on Angelov's death.

That was the last straw. I had believed that my all-out wrath and the prices they paid would quench every squirming memory of her dominion over me. Ngayong kaharap ang anak ko, mas napagtanto ko lang na dala-dala ko pa pala ang epekto ng pagmamanipula niya at kung paano ito naapektuhan hindi lang ako, kundi ang mga tao sa paligid ko.

"What are you doing, Deirdre? This is not you," a baritone echoed.

My mind flailed against the quicksand of time, refusing to swim through the harsh currents of the past until I was helplessly drowning back our mansion walls.

"Maybe what we are really here for is to see how the world change, Quentin. That as well includes people..."

This is one of those memories I repressed thinking they don't really matter. Tapos na, hindi ba? Patay na raw siya, at ikakasal na ako sa iba. But maybe it did matter because... it had only helped me realize more...

"So... this is it? What's your plan?"

"What plan?"

Nilingon ko si Quentin mula sa pagtutupi ko ng damit. I just changed into my night gown ready for sleep when he went in, as per their request, so we could sleep together after the occasion.

He chuckled darkly. "Now don't bullshit me. I know why you agreed to marry me. C'mon, I'm willing to play along."

"I told you I will kill your uncle. Or kill them all."