{unedited}
The airline she had booked with was one of those that landed in the international airport of Bordeaux in France, her home.
She knew her way from there. Knew her way around a majority of major landmarks in the country from all the travels she'd had with family.
Looking back on what her father once said,
"It's a good thing for one to know their own country."
She understood his words better.
Her father had pointed it out when they played their customized game of '60 second words of wisdom'.
This had been the time where she'd found Jane Eyre moderately intelligible. The only classic tale amongst many that her late grandfather from her father's side had given her, one she'd bothered to read until completion.
The female protagonist was headstrong and to put it mentally, despite the descend of feeling the book brought about, she admired the Jane's strength.
Admired her blunt honestly.
'Very sir, you always were you know.'
Was Jane Eyre's answer to Mr.Rochester when he'd asked her if he were hideous.
She'd carried that kind of honesty with and it had probably stayed and built with whatever context Geneva had been in.
The sad part was, when she'd dated, she had been a different kind of independent that shut out any negativity directed towards her relationship because she assumed they had been simply biased by his dark and lack of bright colour in appearance. Only realised too late that her family and friends were on her side and not particularly against her love life at that time.
So her father had picked up on the nearly forgotten game of ' 60 second words of wisdom'.
She wasn't the protagonist in the book classic nor did she share her personality make up therefore there was no need for condemnation of personal character in Geneva's already broken state back then.
Zane, her ex, had stopped being as emotionally available. Something she'd ignored to be a passing phase. He'd needed time was her assumption. And she'd give it to him. Because where he was concerned she was willing to give . Give with no limits. The kind that didn't think before acting. That's how bad she'd had it for him.
It took a shuttered heart for her to break out of her own reverie. Seeing a female on top of him with his hand on her ass sharing the same puff of smoke before kissing. Their display had hammered the glass called her love life.
He couldn't have been bothered even when he knew she'd caught him.
She'd given her heart wholly and he tossed it back with disregard. Squishing her throbbing heart while looking her in the eyes with indifference.
It had been emotional torture moving on. Expecting him to fight for her or apologise but he did none. Probably for the best because if he had, she'd have run back into his arms at the speed of lightning. All forgiven.
Thinking about Samuel tagged at her heart. Maybe that was why she hadn't given him a direct answer, a part of her still probably healing. And her dilly-dally had cost him his life. By the hands of another man. One who frightened her, the same one she was running away from.
Geneva soaped her face with both hands and rinsed after removing the make up with a small purchased bottle of remover. Looking at her real reflection through the mirror she took in her tired appearance.
Her eyes on the plane surface, it was suddenly tempting to cry whilst looking back at her worn out reflection.
She gripped the edge of the sink holding the air inside her lungs and exhaled before grabbing paper towels to clean her face and hands.
A few tears escaped, she tried to smile and ended up succumbed to tears . Feeling relief , exhaustion, and joy with gripping worry a persistent participant.
She was home. And she didn't want to give a damn if Marcelo come for her because she wouldn't be going anywhere without a fight of sort. But she couldn't fight the thought that made her freeze up and her activated speedy heartbeat.
Marcelo's wasn't a nobody.Dante had pointed out that he controlled the family business in Mexico. Which meant someone else controlled things her side? What were the chances another Rodriguez wasn't in charge of or in her country ?
She pushed off the sink and picked up her bag then walked out the toilet stall. It was early evening and she had deliberately locked herself inside the washroom . Ignoring the glares thrown her way by the women lined outside and blunt advice about using a toilet, she found her way outside the restaurant.
She'd go home and worry later.
Home is where she wanted to be. She didn't want to drop from exhaustion or double over because of trepidation.
She hailed and got into a taxi after buying a bottle of wine. Wine was relatively cheap and she bought it as a last minute 'gift' for when she'd return home. Freshly baked bread would have been a better option but she'd seen a line in the bakery of choice.
Woken by the driver once they arrived at her destination, she paid, having changed currency and exited the car . The drive to her home was a lengthy one, more than a mere forty five minutes from where she'd been picked up.
Geneva took in the familiar scenery of land and the road. No sooner had she turned when she saw the black gates opened and out came a Bentley that stopped close to her.
"Geneva?" Her mother's voice sounded in surprise and she climbed out of the car.
Her mother verbally confirmed with excitement and hugged Geneva who was at the brink of tears.
Her arms went around her mother and she shut her eyes unable to fight the tears. The muscles in her throat tightened and she buried her face in the crook of her mother's neck. Inhaling her rose signature scent that accompanied found memories.
And she broke down.
Poured it all out in the comfort of her mother's arms . Her deep sobs fueled her mother's concern who tried to pull her at arms length to take a look at her daughter who refused to let go.
Her daughter's state alarmed and brought about motherly concern in her core. And the longer her daughter cried, an air of sadness spread.
It took a while, and when Geneva finally loosened her grip, her mother pulled back with affection as she took in her daughter's state.
"Oh Geneva." Her mother touched her cheeks wiping the trail of tears away.
Geneva tried to speak, to say anything but the moment she opened her mouth, a shaky breath after and she the tears rushed back alongside a sob.
It was all coming back.
Samuel's death , her first attempted escape, her second and the result in the bathtub, her third attempt accompanied with it's dreadful result and her forth experience while doing so. Gabriella, Dante, how it begun.
It hit her. The situations that she'd been subjected to that had brought about , pain, sorrow, anxiety, panic, fear, nausea and lack of qualms where Marcelo was concerned.
Her mother embraced her until she calmed some before helping into the car and driving back into their compound passed the the tall gets and into the gigantic square designed paving. Round the pink and red colored flower bed and packed the car at the chateau entrance.
Geneva calmer than before got out of the car . Backpack still on her back dressed in the same clothing and wine package strings in her folded hand.
She passed the individual trees each on either side and climbed up the few steps before pushing one of the black double doors and entering.
Something settled and she felt tranquil, smiling seeing the familiar. Geneva turned around and hugged her mother as though seeing her after returning from a long trip.
" Tu m'as manqué maman" (I missed you mom.)Geneva pulled back and handed her the packed wine arms stretched forward with both hands holding the brown strings and a smile on her face.
Her mother looked at her, trying to understand the quick change in her daughter's mood.
Accepting the wine, she placed it aside and run her hands down the length of Geneva's arms before holding her hands.
" you were so sad a minute before my love," her mother pointed out and continued the conversation in French. "Tell me what happened . And don't conjure up a false story because I'll know."
Geneva gave off a breathy laugh laced with sadness.
" A lot has happened mom, It was stupid of me to demand for space and cut-off communication-"
"I don't care for the communication and wanting space sweetheart, I wondered when you'd blow up about wanting it. I know your father and I can be very involved."
Geneva nodded in agreement, her lips tagged upward.
"But that can't be why you were crying like that. Come seat and tell me what made you feel like that."
About to move Geneva reminded her about the wine.
"You bought one of your father's rival wine." Her mother pointed out with a snicker, examining the bottle.
" They made up." Geneva pointed out remembering how the feud had begun.
The owner had tried to Romance her with many wine bottles sent to their house in hopes of winning Geneva's hand in marriage.
He was nearly twice her age and she had only turned eighteen. Age wasn't a deal factor in her family, her mother was ten years her father's junior.
The problem came when her refusal hadn't detoured his advances an ounce and when her father had taken a stand behind her decision, he'd insulted and mocked her father's family legacy in the wine industry.
"No surprise your daughter's deluded by your low quality wine Beaumont."
It was a false insult but it must have been the last straw among the many remarks her father had heard and ignored from the man.
Safe to say the gates where shut on his face.
On their way, Catherine retrieved wine glasses for the both of them before seating in the guest lounge. The two facing each other.
"You haven't drunk from your glass mom." Geneva pointed out placing her glass down after taking a sip of her white wine and glanced at her mother's untouched one.
"I took a glass earlier."
Thanks to papa they were big on wine. A small smile graced her face as she recalled the fully stalked winery with Pinot noir red wine bottles.
"I got lost in Mexico mom," she rubbed her hands. " narrowly escaped a trafficked running from a bad man."
Geneva stopped and glanced up at her mother who least expected such a story. But she went on to explain how she saw fit. The fact she was in the safety of her home with one of her parents besides her reignited her energy.
"I was alone, Gabriella wasn't close nor was Dante." She didn't see how involving them wouldn't change her parent's perspective so she chose to withhold the complete truth. "encountered a dangerous man and in doing so , I collided with another set of them.
María. She helped me get back here."
Geneva observed her mother who's eyes had widened with raised brows.
" did they harm you?" Catherine drew in, holding her close with concern. " why didn't you call for help?" Her mother's eyes filled and turned glossy.
" I , I wasn't in the position to."
"How come?-"
"Mom I just -" Geneva looked away with tears in her eyes.
She didn't know. Her mother didn't know how serious she was when she said a dangerous man is who she had run away from. A man capable of killing without remorse.
She couldn't even guarantee that her running back home wouldn't harm them. She wasn't sure if her decision was a solid move against Marcelo. Thinking what he'd do to her parents made her turn her body away from her mother's and place her head on her open palms that lay flat on her laps. Crying silently.
Catherine placed her hands on her back about to embrace her but Geneva beat her to it and wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, crying in her laps for a long time.
"What does he want from you? The man you run from." Asked Catherine whilst physically soothing her daughter.
"Me?" Geneva sniffed and lifted off her mother's lap. Wiping her cheeks, feeling an approaching headache.
"He claimed to like me ." Her breath shook as fresh tears run down her cheeks and she wiped them with the back of her hand.
"Did he force himself on you?" Catherine gently asked . Hoping for a negative answer. It frightened and broke her to see and know that her child could have gone through what part of her organization fought against. Working in human rights had exposed her to the harsh reality. Holding a high position in the child welfare department, her comfort and empowerment was contributed by knowing her child was well taken care off and that no child should have to go through anything less. No human .
" I -, no he didn't rape me ," Geneva held her arms looking forward.
"You know I'm capable of killing amor yet you still fantasized about me."
"I, I hadn't thought he'd-" Geneva struggled with her speech. She couldn't call it rape because when she remembered how frightened she was when the man who dragged her had touched her violently wasn't the same feeling she'd had when Marcelo touched her.
"He -"
"Don't talk about it if you're not ready my love ." Catherine took in her daughters distraught and her heart throbbed painfully.
" no." Geneva shook her head and faced her mother, looking into her brown eyes. "No he didn't rape me. I fought him but it never hurt like that, I, I wanted him too but -"
"It's okay." Her mother encouraged. Expressing comfort and patience.
Geneva dropped her gaze. Gathering some of her thoughts. It was messing with her. Knowing and then saying it out loud made her feel like she was personally confirming to sleeping with someone she shouldn't have.
And she felt a sob rise, her throat swelled and she fought the tears.
It pained Catherine to see her daughter desolate and held her through the tears and went up the staircase toward her wing to let her take a bath. Sent John, her husband, a message to come home as quick as possible while she waited for her daughter to clean herself.
Geneva took her time in the shower after brushing her teeth . Scrubbed and rinsed here body twice, the same for her hair and wrapped one of the white towels around her body. She rubbed out the water in her hair with another towel whilst watching her moving reflection feeling physically relieved before exiting her bathroom. Saw her mother on the bed with a large comb in hand and smiled.
"Are you hurt ?"
Geneva lifted her head , muscles stiff upon hearing her mother's question.
She felt for her thigh and exhaled in relief. The markings on her thigh were covered by her towel. Geneva guessed that her walk must have given her away.
"My leg got injured." Was her answer while she walked into her closet.
She pulled her long pajama bottoms underneath the towel after drying herself followed by the half sleeved shirt.
She got out of her closet and walked toward her mother's direction who was seated waiting. Catherine indicated she sit down and Geneva complied.
" we'll go to the hospital tomorrow." Geneva's heart skipped a beat at her mother's words. Felt her comb and cut her hair into positions for plating.
"Tomorrow?"
"To get your leg checked."
Geneva folded tattoo free leg and rest her cheek on her knee. Letting her mother work on her conditioned hair that was agreeable while wet.
"Mom,"
Catherine hummed in response, finishing to braid a cut potion.
" can I go alone?"
Her mother stopped working on her hair for a short moment before she resumed the task.
" you don't want me to come?"
Geneva detected the hurt in her mother's voice.
"I'd like to go alone."
" Geneva," her mother stopped with the hair and lifted herself to sit down in front of her. " I only want to be by your side when you get the check up my love." Her eyes held Geneva's.
She knew her mother meant well but she didn't want her seeing what Marcelo had done to her . It had personally affected her, how would her mother take it?
" I know maman, but it's something I want to do on my own. Please ?"
She saw her struggle before nodding in agreement with Geneva. Stood up and went back to her former spot resuming to plate her hair.
It wasn't everyday that her mother stopped herself from being involved in her life whenever she could.
It was after a talk Geneva had had with both her parents present about letting up a little did she receive more room . And the now might have been because of the state she'd received her in, starting from the gate.
Her mother brought food up to her room and watched her eat even though Geneva said she didn't have to. Catherine stayed by her side until Geneva slept off without difficulty. The painkillers working effectively against the headache that had proceeded from lack of sleep and all the crying.
Her father was the person she woke up to the following morning and lunged at him in a fierce hug when registration settled in.
John Beaumont held his daughter in a firm hug. His wife had told him the most of it and he'd rushed back from the short trip in Spain he'd taken with his cousin who was a current minister.
No words. She didn't need to hear any. Being held in her father's arms was enough to melt away her troubles. He always made her feel safe. And to date that never changed.
Eager to get out of bed more than ever, Geneva got out from underneath her covers to spend time with her father who headed downstairs to prepare his coffee whilst waiting for her so they could eat breakfast together.
Geneva wore a designed black dress T-shirt accompanied with leggings and a thin long sleeved blue denim. Afraid to try on the maxi dress or any dress in her closet in fear of any mishap that'd lead to exposure of her thigh.
She found her father sipping on his coffee in the family dinning room before folding the newspaper and placed it down. His scarf off and turtleneck long sleeved shirt on display.
He'd grown his silk hair longer than usual. The black still in even as he neared fifty. He didn't look it. With all the physical activity he took part in.
"How are you papa?"
Geneva asked while she took a seat besides him. His silence made her look at him.
Was he angry she'd asked them to back off and given them a timeout before they could resume communication?
His face broke into a smile and his rich low laugh sounded.
" better now that I know you're home and safe . I don't like that you wanted time away from us." He spoke in French, they both usually spoke in the language when communicating. "But after you left," he unfolded and placed the white napkin on his laps " I reflected and got an idea what you meant."
Geneva scooted close to the table with a smile on her face. It was nice to know that he got her point and that he wasn't angry about it.
" This man," her father's tone hardened " do you know him?"
Geneva knew what he was referring to and guessed that her mother had already told him . She didn't have to start from scratch all over again. So she nodded, gaze on the food.
"What's his name?"
Her father asked and her spine stiffened with a chill brought about by the thought of Marcelo. Her nerves awoken she brought her gaze towards her plate. Her stomach reacting to the adrenaline brought by the additional anxiety. Her breathing and heart rate quickened and she focused on calming down, assuring herself with different thoughts.
"Rodriguez."
Rodriguez
Marcelo's
She deeply inhaled " Marcelo Rodriguez."
" do you have an idea what he does , where to find him? The investiga-"
Geneva's blood froze. Taking a hint what her father was about to do or was already doing.
It wasn't a good idea. It wasn't. Despite the fact that her father was a high judge and a loved one by the public or his vast connection to the members of the French government, Geneva knew it was a wrong move to deliberately go out to Marcelo.
Her pounding heart knew that so well.
The only way was to let him come to them and not the other way around. Marcelo had power. Mexico was probably his playground and he'd play them, blood shed involved.
"Papa," She called out before turning to face him. " there's no need. There're many groups in Mexico and his name isn't uncommon." Marcelo or Rodriguez maybe but both his names together, the search might be narrowed down a great deal if the search was done in his very own territory where those who were knowledgeable about his business resided.
She saw her father's eyes slightly narrow in thought.
Geneva didn't want to have to think about it but Marcelo was a real danger.
John figured all too quickly for himself that his daughter was scared of the man who's name she'd just mentioned. He never saw Geneva scare where people were concerned and it confirmed his assumption from all Catherine had told him to the limp she had spotted that she had been hurt and abused.
He wouldn't push her. She was fighting tears and in angered him to see his daughter so.
He'd let her heal. And in the meantime, tighten the security. He'd still investigate and once they got a proper lead, he'd ask her to confirm his face.
Unbeknown to him, the search would be unfruitful because of a bias against the link in family name he least expected to be involved based on a long term and honest relationship that made him wrongfully and without intention, turn a blind eye in the process.
~*
Geneva had opened up to her father about something that had laid heavily on her heart when the topic had been brought and talked to her father about it after the conversation had shifted to lighter topics.
She'd brought up an idea to start up a foundation for both girls and boys subjected to abuse. Sexual or not. Inclusive of those on the streets who had a high level of exposure to it.
What had happened before and after she'd met María concerning those men was proving hard to move past. Closing her eyes to rest, at times the dream carried on whereby María wasn't there to stop or help her.
Bringing it up to her father was easier than telling her mother. Not because she couldn't tell her, she wanted and needed her to be a part of it the most. It was easier because unlike her mother, she knew that her father's eyes wouldn't portray as much sorrow and understanding like her mother's. And she'd just end up crying because of the reflected pain.
The foundation plan would extended to the airport and places a majority of tourists would be. A representative who'd give free verbal guidance or help set up tour plans for one's who wanted to tour individually with trustworthy companies.
There were companies in place doing so and seeing more available was a good thing. It wasn't for business purposes, her aim was safety.
Safety and relief to those both victims and ones already subjected.
She hinted at her father to tell her mother who later let her know how supportive and on board she too was and was waiting for the plan out she could present to her organization.
Geneva would have loved to see it through not only in a part or parts of her country but in Mexico where she'd experienced it. But she didn't see herself being up for it emotionally and mentally because she had developed an attachment fear to the country regarding her experience and encounters there.
Postponing her trip to the hospital for her body check up was near impossible. The appointment was already set by her mother with their family doctor.
Her father would be the one to accompany her and she had tried every trick in the book to convince him let her get it alone.
" Today , tomorrow or any other day, I'm going with you mon petit chou. "
Her father let her know with his usual calm.
She had no choice but depart with him that very day. She prepared herself for the questions before or after her body check up. Nervous, she found her gaze wonder back and forth during different intervals between the road and her father who was driving.
"I won't go in or ask ."
And her eyes met his kind ones.
"Thank you papa."
Geneva leaned backwards on her seat using her sides facing her father and closed her eyes for a bit as he drove before dozing off and getting woken up later. Entered the hospital with her father close by.
He left the room after exchanging greeting and she remained with their family doctor who engaged in light conversation after inquiring how she'd gotten the scar below her rib cage and what had occurred on her thigh.
Geneva had seen the shocked then unsettled expressions when on the doctor when her eyes had landed on her thigh.
"Can we keep the tattoo between us?" Geneva lifted her gaze from the ink.
She didn't want her parents to know about the permanent wordings on her thighs. It was something she hadn't come to terms with and she neither wanted to talk about nor discuss it.
She saw the kind smile laced with pity on her doctor's face before she agreed to keep that part confidential. Offering a therapist's number.
The body check up requirements finished, Geneva sat down to listened to what their doctor had to say. Her father welcomed back into the doctor's consultation room, Geneva found herself inquire about her dancing. It had been heavy on her mind. Not that she didn't trust what the doctor at Marcelo's had said, she simply wanted reconfirmation from someone she trusted in the field. One who had no relation with Marcelo. And what she said had brought comfort.
Muscle tissue healed relatively fast because of rich blood supply that was essential for any healing process.
Because of the pain and numbness Geneva had informed the doctor about, she opted for RRT [rapid release technology]. A therapy that was used to treat soft tissue. Anti-inflammatory medicine that would help on her swelling and also spoke about her diet including a healthy amount of Vitamin C .
Their doctor set a laser treatment appointment for her scars after asking Geneva's take on working on her scars.
Her father had been quiet throughout. Listened until the end. She spotted him unclinch his feast that casually lay on his lap and knew he was angry.
There was nothing she could do about and it bothered her to see him like that.
" papa?"
Geneva leaned on the hood of his red convertible after shutting the car door.
"Yes?"
He neared the car.
"Don't be angry."
He smiled slightly after a moment. Hearing her words.
" I'm not angry at you. Never with you."
"Really?" She pushed off the car smiling.
"But you're grounded, indefinitely. To be surrounded by guards, no exception."
He knew she hated having guards surround her but this time, she found she understood why people had them. Some nearly all the time.
An early dinner done, her mother at a work function, Gabriella retired to her bedroom after borrowing her father's non work phone and giving him a goodnight kiss. Left him drinking coffee.
Geneva showered and pushed her feet underneath the covers. Her back against the headboard and she called the contact saved on the phone that picked up after the third ring.
"Gabriella?"
Geneva called. Hearing a sniff on the other end that stopped when she spoke then resumed.
"What did you do?" Gabriella questioned. Her voice tight.
"I-, are you okay?" Thoughts run though her mind. Horrid ones of Marcelo attacking her best friend and Dante.
"Am I okay?" Gabriella repeated the question before sound of movement was heard and the sound of a door closed shut. She had gone outside.
" you escaped." Gabriella reasoned it out for herself and run her fingers through her hair. "I don't know if I should be happy or scared Eva. Marcelo..., Eva If Marcelo isn't there already, "
"Gabriella," Geneva worried about it more than anyone else so much so at a point she had asked the doctor subscribe her anti-anxiety pills but was scared to do so because she'd seen a few get addicted.
She closed her eyes, experiencing the now familiar chest pain and gut discomfort.
" I know."
She was scared. Even in her own home with security around she was still frightened. And it was a feeling that wasn't comfortable carrying every second of the day. It was heavy and horribly dark.
It was silent before a long stream of curses in Spanish left her best friend's mouth and she smiled in slight joy knowing she was fine.
"Did you not promise you won't do anything stupid."
"It's not stupid."
"You're right, it's not stupid. Suicidal is what."
"Gabriella!"
"Eva!" For the first time in a long time she heard Gabriella's voice crack and she remembered she'd been crying over the phone earlier . "Eva I'm scared. I worried when you were in Marcelo's house and now I'm downright fearful . No one I know can do anything to help me help you because his influence and that of his family is mad crazy . I don't want him to hurt you again. He already did. And..."
Geneva heard Gabriella's low cry's and her heart sunk.
What was she supposed to do?
It was suddenly overwhelming and invisible walls begun to close in on her. Her body slowly dropped and she lay on her side. It became difficult to breath and she fisted the material covering her chest with a whimper.
"Geneva," Gabriella called for her but She couldn't answer. Her chest constricted in pain and she whimpered again.
"Geneva? -" like a sixth sense Gabriella knew something was wrong and instead of panicking, she pushed herself out of her own turmoil.
" I'm sorry."
Geneva heard Gabriella's voice , tears streaming across her face that lay on the bed. Thoughts and wishes of being elsewhere and never being born played at the back of her mind.
" it's not your fault. None of this is and no one is blaming you. I'm over the moon you reached home and I promise you're not alone in this. You're never alone. And when you feel like you are, remember it's not true."
Gabriella went on, the list a lengthy one with words of encouragement. The walls stopped caging in at a point and pushed back, she was able to breath. Her tears reduced on their own accord .
" I'll be there with you Eva."
"Okay" Geneva's voice was so low and Gabriella would have missed it if the phone had been far from in front of Geneva's face.
"I love you."
"Love you too." Geneva responded lowly and coiled into fetus posture holding the covers close to herself.
AN
Thank you for reading.
🧶
A little insight.
Geneva communicates using French with everyone when at home excluding those to whom don't use it. With her mother it's both English and French though it's mainly with the former.
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My mother was telling me a story about how angry she got a certain period back when something had happened to her and then she said, " I saw black."
I laughed and told her it's , " I saw red. That's how the saying goes."
So she shook her head and I thought, oh she must have blacked out or something to have seen black so I waited to hear what she said next, and this was it "No I saw black. I want mine to be unique."
😂♥️
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