Blame it on our Fates

f o r t y o n e

Why would you do this, Cadence? Digging your own grave, why?

Mark turned to look at me with his brows raised and eyes flickering in confusion. "Kimbitchy who?"

My father's figure turned rigid and he took his time and slowly turned around to face me. "What are you talking about, Cadence?"

And suddenly bam! The brave Cadence was out, the one who wanted to confront my father about it all.

"Don't you remember her, father dearest?" I asked, my British accent just being the cherry on the top. "Kimbitchy? The Japanese doll that you asked to tag along with yourself? The one who looks extremely pretty with her hooded eyes and a slender figure? The one with whom you are having an affair with?" I continued and smirked mentally when I saw the colour drain from his face, turning him into a Michelangelo sculpture, deadly pale and white.

"Wh-what?" He stammered out. I gave a pat to myself on the back for not stammering once while saying all of that.

"What?!" Exclaimed Mark as he turned to me. "Is this true?"

I shrugged, "Ask him." I knew I was being a bitch, but really? Could you blame me? I mean I found out my father was having an affair just after two-three months of my mother's demise. He deserved the cold shoulder, I believed.

"Is this true, dad?" Mark asked. My father looked I daresay this, a deer caught in redlights. He knew he was caught.

He was quiet. Dad didn't say anything, didn't meet out eyes, just casted his eyes down to the floor.

"He's speechless," I snorted at him. "Honestly dad, got nothing to say? How about you talk the way you did when Kimbitchy was asking you to choose between us and her? How about 'I really like you and can't let you go?'" I mimicked his voice and shook my head in utter disappointment. "God, dad, it has not even been three complete months since her death. Is this how you show your love for her? Trust me when I say this, you had me shaken that day, completely and utterly wobbled, trembled and quivered. I couldn't believe it was you. It was you making those promises to that-that barmy little courtesan!" I exclaimed.

Mark looked at me with a ridiculed expression, "Seriously, Cadence, this is not the eighteenth century. Try calling her something else. How about a whore?"

"Belt up, both of you!" My father exclaimed suddenly. "I know you both are all cheesed up but please, no matter what is the situation, always respect your elderly."

"Here comes the hypocrite," I snorted loudly, rolling my eyes at my dad. "Did you respect mom's memories enough to not start an affair at least until-I don't know- maybe three years of her death? No, all you had to was snap your fingers and bam! You flew to Japan and found yourself a toy." I was fuming, my father looked almost teary eyed and for a second I felt guilt gnawing at my insides, begging myself to stop before I cross the limit. But then I held myself together, he was the person who had hurt me, hurt Mark and most importantly, he hurt mum and her memories, disrespecting the, crumpling it beneath his feet.

But he's also your father, a part of me reminded.

I tore my eyes away from him, my emotions in a haste and my eyes blurred with tears, God, how could I continue telling all of this to him when at the end of every syllable I was an ineffable, sobbing mess. I couldn't insult him further, I decided. I really couldn't. Though what he did was wrong, unbelievably wrong, I couldn't continue.

"How could you do this to us, dad?" Mark questioned in a whisper. "To her?"

His voice was almost similar to mine, thick and dense with emotions unspoken but one of them stood out completely and prominently; hurt.