Dire silence enveloped them as they drove down the dark street. Angelica couldn’t bring herself to speak. She couldn’t do so knowing the words that would come out of her mouth would not be to Henry’s liking. Her breathing was getting heavy as she saw the familiar street of her neighborhood—yes, her neighborhood, not Henry’s.
God, the guy was not willing to buy them more time. He was that eager to part ways? Shit, she was feeling crappy all of a sudden. She could feel a lump in her throat. Why did it have to happen so fast? Why did he have to take her home now? Why?
She wanted to tell him there could still be enemies lurking around, but she knew there wasn’t anyone else free to harm her.
“Wow, you’re really taking me home,” she uttered, clearing her throat, fighting the lump building up inside.
She couldn’t look at him, so she just stared ahead through the windshield.
“You’ll be safe now,” he said, almost in a whisper. “But I’ve assigned a few men to watch after you for a few weeks until everyone is behind bar.”
She just nodded. One stupid drop of tear dropped down from her eyes without rolling down her cheek. She couldn’t breathe so she sniffed and with haste, she dried her eyes.
*****
Of course he saw it and he turned to throw her a glance. He looked away and focused his eyes on the road. He couldn’t stand seeing Angelica Dalton crying.
“You know this is eventually going to happen, Angelica,” his voice was gentle but hoarse.
“Yes, you were so clear on that, I know,” she nodded, sighing.
“You’re crying.” That was just plain stupid of him to point that out.
“I know how to cry,” she snapped. “But why?”
He couldn’t process her question right now, but he got a good feeling what she was talking about. “Why what?”
“Why do you have to send me back?”
“Because it is what’s right,” he answered.
“Because you have too many skeletons? And they concern me? I think I can handle that,” she insisted, sniffing.
He wanted to keep her away because he couldn’t live with her knowing he was responsible for one of her loss. She wouldn’t forgive him.
“Did you do something wrong?” she asked, this time her voice was desperate. “Henry, I can forgive you. It couldn’t be that bad.”
Henry stepped on the brake too harshly and both of them almost fell over against the dashboard.
He took a deep breath and held it in.
“What? Just tell me why,” she didn’t dare hide her tears anymore. She looked at him boldly, making him see how he was hurting her right now.
He felt a pang in his chest.
“You can never forgive me,” he said with a touch of sureness.
“I didn’t know you before everything happened. How can you do something that would hurt me?”
He looked at her sharply, “Because it happened before you knew me.”
She squared her shoulders, “Tell me. Tell me now.”
*****
“Is it about my father?” Angelica asked.
“No, but it was because of him,” his face looked rigid now and she had the urge to touch them, to soften every corner.
“Then tell me!” she cried out with another drop of tear.
A car passed by them and honked, but Henry did not make a move to maneuver the car to the side. Instead, he took another deep breath and closed his eyes. She waited anxiously, her heart thumping against her chest.
“I was already working with your father back then when it happened,” he started, his voice blank. She wished he would look at her but he didn’t. “I knew he was too consumed with his work and the things he was doing for me. Your mother—” he stopped and shook his head and then he continued, “your mother, I only met her once when she came by his office. She looked distressed and she smelled of cigarette. That time, I didn’t even know she was your mother.”
She nodded, a strong feeling of loss and ache enveloping her at the memory of her mother’s last days. “She used to be strong,” she whispered.
He nodded and gulped, “I know, before your sister died.”
Her tears continued to fall. God, she got a feeling this was not leading to something shallow as she had hoped for. But she waited anyway. She waited for him to tell her everything.
“It happened so fast, you know,” he snorted dryly. “Your father called me that he left some papers about the firm in your house, saying it might help with my case. He told to get it and I did.”
Angelica’s heart was slowing down in heavy thuds. One part of her brain was calculating the number of years Henry had been present in her family’s life. He had always been in the background. God, he must have been very young by then, may just fresh out of law school.
She didn’t like where this story was going at all.
“So,” he huffed, blowing out air, opened his eyes and looked up blindly, “so, I went, eager to get the evidence to hand in to my superior. The maid ushered me inside and into your father’s office. I took the files and I was just about to go out the door when I heard the maid scream.”
A frown crossed Angelica’s face. She didn’t know of anything about a maid screaming in their house before. “Was it me?”
“What?” he scoffed and shook his head. “No, you were not home. You were at school that time.”
Her heart started to race once again. “Then what happened?”
“I dropped the files and ran upstairs. The maid was crying, running almost everywhere in panic when I reached the top. She dragged me to your parents’ room and into the bathroom.”
She didn’t dare ask what he saw. She was afraid to.
“And there, lying in the bathtub was your mother, red liquid floating about her,” he rushed on. “Her wrist was cut.” He looked at her as he said it.
Angelica shook her head. “No, my mother did not kill herself,” she said desperately. “Henry, she didn’t kill herself!”
He nodded. “She was not dead. I felt for her pulse and then in panic, I tied her wrist with my tie to give pressure. She was still in her dress when I lifted her out of the tub and ran downstairs. I carried her to my car. I didn’t even think of calling 911,” he snorted bitterly. “I guess it was the fighter in me that was in control.”
Angelica’s heart stopped, completely frozen now as she looked in his eyes. She knew what happened next. “No, you’re lying. You’re just making it all up…” she shook her head vigorously.
“Angelica, I’m not lying,” he answered and when she did not say a word and just sat there, looking at him with tearful eyes, he sighed and closed his eyes. Without a word, he placed the car in gear and started driving.
She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to tell him to stop and let her calm down for a moment—let her process everything.
It can’t be true, her mind chanted. It can’t be true, she almost cursed.
*****
Henry wouldn’t dare say a word while driving. And when they reached her place, reached the place she had neglected for a long time when she started to live with him, he heaved his chest.
He got out of the car, his feet heavy as he circled to her side and opened the door for her. “Angelica, you’re home.”
She didn’t move. With a heavy sigh, he reached inside for her and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her out. She let him guide her across the street and to her door.
Her face was dry with tears now, her eyes shocked.
He couldn’t help himself and crushed her to him.
“Say something,” he shook her. “Say something,” he repeated.
Another ball of tear rolled from her eye as she looked up to him, “Tell me…tell me she didn’t kill herself,” she choked.
“She didn’t. I did,” he said, his voice hard. “She was dead the moment I found her and carried her to my car. She was dead because of me. I could have saved her.”
“It was an accident…” she whispered.
“I didn’t see that truck running red light. It was my fault,” he insisted. “It struck her from her side of the car. I killed her.”
“It was an accident…” she repeated, shaking her head.
With so much emotion whirling inside him, he closed his eyes and planted his lips against her forehead. He felt her flinch and he moved away in an instant. His heart was sinking. This was what he feared. She hated him now.
“I know sorry is not enough,” he gulped and looked up, placing his hands in his pockets to refrain from reaching out at her frail state. “Now you know why you can never forgive me,” he said, taking his hand out from his pocket and reached for the top of the doorway. She had once told him where she hid her keys and he opened the door for her. “Goodbye, Angelica,” he murmured when he finally managed to open the door. He said as he stared down at his feet. He couldn’t bear look at her anymore. She hated him now.
With hunched shoulders, he walked to his car and left.
*****
Angelica couldn’t remember how she managed to blindly walk inside her house and close the door behind her. She was still lost in shock and hurt.
Why did he leave her like that?
Why did no one care to tell her how her mother really died?
Why did her father lie to her?
And why did Henry think he was to blame?
Was she supposed to be angry and furious at him? Was that what he feared? Well, news, news, she was not. She was not stupid.
But she was hurting. How could everyone around her be so freaking stupid and shallow as to think she couldn’t handle the truth?
And he left.
Just like that.
He left without even looking at her.
One flinch and he stepped back?
What a moron, she thought bitterly.
Her shoulders started to shake as she finally let go. Too much hurt…too much…
Her mother chose to die because her sister did? Then what of her then? She chose death over her living daughter?
Her dad chose to lie to her. To what? Protect her? Or did he think she was still his weak daughter who couldn’t handle the truth as strongly as Jessica could have?
Henry chose to freaking go away because he was stupid enough to believe that he was the one responsible for her mother’s death? Did he think of her that little that she would blame him?
Angelica whimpered with too much ache. Nobody wanted her, nobody trusted her, and nobody would even fight to have her.
Why did she have to be the one to always have to prove everything? Why did she have to be the one to chase them around?
But she was only a woman and she needed somebody. She needed someone…anyone…
She walked to her phone with the huge weight in her chest and dialed the first number she could think of. Chanty would be impossible to reach because of Willie.
“Hello?” Cassandra’s groggy voice answered from the other line.
“Cass,” she said brokenly and then she was crying, crying like a child.
“Ange?” alarm was in her friend’s voice. “Ange? Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I just need someone right now, please,” her tone was like that of a child. “Please…”
“Are you home? Where’s Henry?”
“Don’t say that bastard’s name ever again!” she shouted and then she shook once again. “I’m at home. My home.”
“Okay, I’m coming right now,” her friend said and then the line was dead.
She wanted to call Cassandra back and tell her not to come. She wanted to show her friend she was as strong as her.
You need someone right now, the voice inside her said. And so she waited.
She waited, her tears falling like the freaking endless waterfall as the faces of the people she so desperately wanted flashed in her mind.
Her sister… her mom…her dad…and Henry, that freaking bastard! He was the only one left alive and he chose to leave with his useless, unreasonable guilt.
She heard a car’s engine from outside half an hour later and she almost jumped with joy when Henry’s name crossed her mind. But she slumped right back in her couch when she heard a pair of voices from outside.
“No, babe, just go home,” Cassandra was saying irritably. “What? No, I can’t tell you. Just go home. I’ll call you later.”
“You better, Cassandra,” Philip’s voice said with warning.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” her friend answered and then she heard a knock.
She heard Philip and his car drive away and she got up. She walked to the door and when she opened it, she saw Cassandra and her eyes watered once again. Her friend was wearing a bathroom robe, but she knew she looked worse.
“Oh my God, what happened to you?” Cassandra asked, taking her in her arms.
“I just need someone,” she cried harder. “That freaking bastard…” she couldn’t finish one statement before she added, “nobody wants me…nobody wants me…”