Aurelia grew up without much love from her mother, and she never thought her real dad would ever come into her life. But then, he did. Now, she wonders if it's too late for him to rescue her from the darkness her parents left her in, or if there's s...
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After leaving the tailor, Aurelia's mood has been awfully odd. I'm just trying to figure out where we went wrong today; maybe we pushed her a little too fast?
These questions keep popping up one after the other. When we finally got home, I suggested that we play a game, but she looked so exhausted, so I let her be.
She went into her room, saying that she wanted to rest a bit, but then we heard glass shatter.
Both Fernando and I stood up, running to her room to find her on her knees, crying.
"What's wrong?" I asked carefully, sitting beside her.
"Make it stop!" she yelled, gripping my arm.
"What?"
"These voices, please, I'm begging you!" she said, and it felt like she was in physical pain.
Aurelia's distress was palpable, her cries echoing through the room as if they were a chorus of anguish. Fernando and I exchanged worried glances, unsure of what to do to alleviate her suffering.
She was usually so composed, but now she seemed utterly overwhelmed by whatever haunted her thoughts. As I looked into her tear-filled eyes, I realized that we needed to help her, no matter the cost.
"Tell us, peanut, how can we help you?" Fernando spoke softly, settling beside her.
She looked at us with hopeful eyes, but the hope quickly faded as she realized what just happened.
"I'm sorry for breaking the mirror," she said, her tone cold as she avoided our gaze.
"That's okay. Just tell us what's bothering you," I urged gently.
"No, I'm sorry. Please don't say anything to the others," she pleaded.
"Aurelia," Fernando's voice was firmer now.
"There's nothing wrong. I don't know what just happened. Can you guys just leave me alone?" she murmured, almost inaudibly.
"No can do. Tell us what's going on."
"If I tell you, you won't tell the others?" Aurelia's voice trembled with uncertainty.
I looked at her, ready to make that promise, but a nagging feeling crept into my subconscious, reminding me that the first promise she's asking for might lead to breaking it.
"Yes, we won't tell them." I assured her.
"I was bullied a lot in school, so when I looked in the mirror, I heard all of those comments that the kids would make." she explained, though it didn't sound like the whole truth. But for now, it would have to be enough.
"What are their names?" Fernando asked, his anger tightly controlled.
