Scintilla

9. People Don't Change

Before

"We can't change the past," Lucrecia says, she is kneeling at my feet, with her hands cradling my jaw. "We can't change it so we mustn't allow it to consume us."

"You're talking like they've been gone for years. It's only been six months," I state, my hands pushing her away. I begin to pace the room, already feeling like a caged animal. 

"Six months where you've wasted away."

I laugh, in between sobs, "I just need time but nobody is allowing me to have any. Everywhere I turn people are there telling me how I should mourn, how I should react. I just need everything to stop for a moment."

"Luna, you have all the time in the world but we are worried. You're sick. You're not eating right. This isn't the way forward," She replies her eyes tracking my tears. 

"Don't say that. I can only decide the way forward. Not you. Not anyone, only me," I say. I'm tired, my bones feel heavy like the very act of existing is a chore.

"In your grief, you're forgetting that we all lost them too. Not just you," She whispers. Is there a hidden accusation in them? I don't know but I feel cornered just the same. 

I take a step towards her, my finger pointing at her face, "What have you lost?" Lucrecia takes in a breath, her eyes wide. I continue speaking, "Tell me, what have you lost that is similar to what I have lost? How can you even begin to compare our grief when it's not the same."

"My pain isn't lesser than yours. I lost my brother. My nieces and my nephew. I lost someone that was like a sister to me. I lost everything too."

"Did you? Because from where I stand after you're done here you will go home where you will be welcomed by your husband and your children. You will pick a phone and you will call your sisters and brothers and tell them how horrible I'm doing. Then you will call your mother and father and fill their minds with lies. So no, I don't think that you can compare our grief."

Lucrecia begins to cry, her head shaking. I don't feel pity or guilt, not for her. My mind is already on fire with guilt that has been with me for six months and that will never go away, a burden that I will carry for the rest of my life. 

"That isn't fair," She gasps, wiping her tears. "But I will ignore it because I know you're in pain. You are letting anger win and it will destroy you."

"What's there left to destroy," I laugh. I'm done playing this game with her where we both ignore the elephant in the room. I'm furious at myself and her and at everyone that told me to forgive, to let go, to move forward. 

"I don't even know why you are here. You were never here and looking at your face makes me sick because it reminds me of him."

"He was your father," she says. 

"He was a monster," I reply. 

"No. No, he wasn't. He was troubled and sick but he was getting better," she insists. 

My smile is as vicious as my words, "Troubled and sick? No, he was abusive and he made our lives a living hell. He was a manipulator and he died a murderer." 

Lucrecia steps towards me, her arm raises. I tilt my head defiantly. She takes me in, my worn clothing, the eyebags under my eyes, and the hair that remains after all the stress. She slowly lowers her arm. 

"It was an accident," she states. 

"An accident? No, seven people are dead including him. Five innocents, it wasn't an accident."