This time around, Ayleen seemed to have really fallen to despair. When she wasn’t uncontrollably angry, she was hopelessly sad and crying. Her health kept on getting worse. As per her wish, Eyria made those people's lives even more difficult. She had already brought back Vargas’s family’s stocks and started breaking the enterprises to sell them in a more beneficial way. That adopted person’s trial ended and he had been recognized guilty, sentenced to thirty-five years in jail. Edward, who didn’t have a job anymore and whose friends deserted in fear of being implicated, couldn’t pay for their house’s bills and had to rent out. That homewrecker, who had long stopped working, found that her contacts were unwilling to help. That homewrecker’s daughter found that the role she had been given previously had been attributed to another and no matter what she did, it didn’t work.
They finally couldn’t keep it up like this. They first tried to use the media, to denounce Eyria but found that here too, they weren't successful; someone was constantly blocking them. Swallowing their pride, all three of them came to beg her to stop.
Behind her desk, Eyria listened as her father was talking. The man's violet eyes had now a shade of red and dark pouches under his eyes. The woman he took fancy to wasn't any better. Their daughter wasn't looking towards her but at the floor, unwilling to even meet eyes. Eyria curled her lips. How many liters of tears did this man think her mother shed since married to him?
“I am really not the person you should be saying all that, no?” She finally said once he stopped talking.
She saw that woman dug her nails in her palm, her lips shaking.
“Beg." Eyria opened again, after looking at the three people once more and finally settling her gaze on the man, "Beg for Ayleen Vargas’s pardon and if she gives it then I may even help you.”
They all had various expressions. Anger, embarrassment, shame. It was really a myriad of things. Eyria's smile didn't leave her lips as they trembled on their chairs with thoughts of her murder certainly.
Hearing no words of contradiction and seeing them nod, she brought them to her mother’s hospital room, and let her mother finally hear the remorse and pleadings of her husband as well as that of the woman he chose over her. Their daughter didn't come or rather, didn't enter, for she was still in the corridor and thought it better to not appear at all.
Ayleen, sat on the bed, and leaned against the border, listening without looking at them, her hands clenched so much that her fingers blanched.
“Get out,” she finally managed in a whisper and Eyria, who was sitting not too far on the chair looked at the standing people and sighing, she stood up and show them out.
“What? What is it?” asked the father on the verge of getting angry, “we did what you wanted right?”
Eyria clenched and unclenched her hands. She really wished she had a cigarette right now. She was dying for a whiff.
“I’ll let you know about her decision,” she said unfeelingly and close the door.
The father wanted to open it and shouted at the two women inside, but was stopped by his beloved,
“Let it be. If she forgives, then she forgives. If not, then what could happen to us worse than what we are already living? Let’s go, let’s not wasted it if she chose to help.”
Inside the room, Eyria took her seat once again, near her mother.
“What do you say?” She asked softly.
The woman was once again crying. Eyria wasn’t sure she understood why. She thought, for once, she would be happy with this choice. They had, after all, apologized for the things done to her.
In a broken voice, Ayleen said,
“Why? Why is it that I don’t feel any joy?” She looked at her daughter, her eyes had long turned red, her voice barely heard, “I’ve wasted so many years. So many… I regret... I regret it so much.”
Eyria couldn’t do anything more than just taking her mother in her embrace, caressing her back to soothe her.
***
Ayleen died some days later and as per her wishes once more, Eyria let that family go. Giving a credit card and three tickets to the man, she asked him to disappear, never to stand in front of her again.
Taking the plane tickets, there was still a worry in Edward’s eyes,
“Callen, he-”
“His lawyer has appealed. There’ll be a hearing in five months. I will see what I can do, though I can’t promise anything.”
Edward closed his mouth, holding the plane tickets tighter. He seemed to want to say something. Maybe to comfort her. Maybe to apologize. But the words were stuck in his throat.
“Get out.” She spat, her eyes holding venom, barely restraining herself from punching him. He could see it. The hatred she had for him. There was no turning back. Never having his baby again in this life.
So, he turned around and left her office, never uttering words of condolences. If he did, he wondered if she wouldn’t have torn up his skin and let his blood flowed.
***
Eyria buried her mother the next day. Not many were present. Somehow, as heartless as it sounded, although she was truthfully heartbroken, Eyria finally felt that the weight on her shoulders had been lifted.
For the rest of the day, she went back to her family’s house, the same one she chased that family away from, some years ago now.
Sitting in front of the tv, the ashtray on the small table in front of her full of cigarettes, she was twirling the alcohol in her glass. She was sitting here, a bit dazed, still in her mourning clothes. From time to time she would take a sip from the glass, her cheeks had long flushed. Once she emptied the bottle by the table, she got up to search for another one. The woman was half-drunk already and was unsteady on her feet. As she was coming back, the news on the tv changed and some breaking news stared. The crash of an airplane.
She blinked and when the information finally registered in her brain, she suddenly laughed. Wasn’t this the flight that family boarded on? Heavens really have eyes! She laughed for a long time. Her lips hooked up, her mood wasn’t as morose anymore.
“Look, mom,” she said as she down her cup in one trait “they followed you there, there’s no way you’ll feel lonely now, right?”
She took the remote control and increased the sound and when she confirmed that it really was their flight, she frantically searched for her phone in her bag,
She took the remote control and increased the sound and when she confirmed that it really was their flight, she frantically searched for her phone in her bag,
“Ah yes, Mr Andrews, yes!”
Giggling, she called her lawyers and let them redrafted the divorce papers and the land’s deeds before ordering to send to her the edited version as fast as possible. They had at most three hours. Chuckling, she called that man too. Which expression was he carrying now, she wondered?
***
Some hours later, she was still sitting in front of the tv. Already turned off now. Instead, she was looking at the ring on her finger. A marital ring. It was really beautiful, made of gold and encase with diamonds. Supposedly the proof of eternal love. Not in her case though. Eyria felt like it was mocking her loneliness.
The euphoria from before went down. Fast. The grand house was empty not a sound to be heard, quite eerie for this previously animated familial house.
The euphoria from before went down. Fast. The grand house was empty not a sound to be heard, quite eerie for this previously animated familial house.
“What do you want?” The cold man’s voice rang as he appeared in the lounge steeping out of the corridor. Her husband. Robert Higgins.
A handsome man who was in love with that woman’s daughter. Ah, for a time he sincerely went out with her and she supposed their feelings were somehow genuine but they couldn’t be compared to what he felt for that person. To crush that woman, she took him away nonetheless and blackmailed him into marrying her. A land and the promise to not touch a hair on Clarinda’s head. That was all it took.
“You weren’t here yesterday,” she reproached, standing up, not without difficulty. "You're supposed to assist me in every ceremony."
“I was in a meeting,” his nose crunched at the sight of all the cigarettes, the smoke in the air, and the still heavy smell of alcohol, “our contract mentioned nowhere about funerals.”
“Isn’t that also a ceremony?”
She heard him breathe in like every time he did when he was about to argue with her.
She heard him breathe in like every time he did when he was about to argue with her.
“Calm your tits,” she said, so drunk was she that she slipped into vulgarness like in her young days, “I didn’t call you to start a fight but to give you back your freedom. The divorce papers are over here.”
She pointed the table at the far corner. He frowned,
“Ms Vargas don’t play with me.”
“So little trust”, she smiled, staggering all the way to him. She gently patted his cheek, “the land’s deeds are right beside them too. You won’t have to wait for the end of our six years agreement. Aren’t you happy?”
He ignored the smell of alcohol in her breath which was fanning his nose so close were they and instead, held the hand that was touching his cheek and brought it back to her side. Without words, he slowly walked to the papers and paused briefly.
Looking at his trembling hands, she said,
“There’s no need any more right? She is dead now anyway.”
He froze, in the end, bend down, took hold of the pen and slowly signed them.
“The money will be transferred to you.” He paused as he was about to get out, his eyes cold he enunciated slowly, “may you burn in hell.” Then he was gone.
She blinked and finally laughed.
She hated them so much that God let her revenge by burning down their airplane!
What goal was left to her life than?
Somehow, amidst her wild waves of laughter, a strangled sob sounded; hadn't she too wasted many years of her life?
***
She roamed in the house, rediscovering it. She was drunk enough to walk staggeringly but still sober enough to think. And she didn’t want to think; Right now, thinking just led to her imagining her mother’s crying face, the dead expressions of these three people and it was creepy and a little frightening… and somehow, there would be this unsurmountable feeling sinking down her guts, and her mother’s words would echo in her head. Regrets would then be all she would be left with. She didn’t want that. Why must she regret it? She didn’t put a gun on their temples for heaven’s sake! She had nothing to do with their death. Sure, they died while on the plane she bought for them but that was just a coincidence!
Staggering all the way, she went to take a bath, so that she could sober some more.
Her hair still wet and in her nightdress, she entered what used to be her bedroom when she was a child. No furniture was in there. She had the renovating men take everything out of the manor. However, closing her eyes, she could still see the light violet curtains, the yellow and brown tapestry, the small cage for her toys.
Her hair still wet and in her nightdress, she entered what used to be her bedroom when she was a child. No furniture was in there. She had the renovating men take everything out of the manor. However, closing her eyes, she could still see the light violet curtains, the yellow and brown tapestry, the small cage for her toys.
She was finally home after all these years.
Passing by the corridor to exit the room, she saw a slightly opened door. Lightly pushing it, it let appear what used to be that woman’s daughter. Eyria laughed a bit. Since when hadn’t she called those people by their names even in her own head? It had been so long that it became a sort of normal thing to do now.
This room too was completely empty but there were cardboards by the door. The renovators had stacked them there. A bit curious, she opened them to see. One was filled with toys, another with books, there was also one, with letters at the bottom.
They were all written by that woman’s daugh-, no, Clarinda; they were all written by Clarinda. She should call their names now. What did it matter anymore if she acknowledged them or not, at the very least, she should acknowledge their existence or that they used to exist!
At the time Clarinda was writing these, she was certainly still very young, maybe they were still children going to the same school. Her writing wasn’t as neat as it was today.
Younger, that person used to be a shy little girl who teared up at every little word one said to her. She always had an expression as though she had been bullied. It drove Eyria, who wasn’t really a soft-spoken child, to madness. Clarinda was like the shy, pretty, little doll, and she, Eyria, like the bullying sister of Cinderella. They had been compared to figures like these for years and the fact used to make Eyria’s blood boil. One just couldn’t have a conversation with the girl, just frown a bit and she would cry all the tears of her soul, not talking about when you really lose your temper with her, then her whole face would go red, tears silently falling as though she was enduring great hardships and still silently holding on, struggling, to not make a noise, with her little hands on her breasts, her mouth down, desperately trying to stop shaking. Eyria didn’t know how many times she thought about wringing the girl’s neck!
Later, when he had entered the family, Callen was always coming to her rescue, putting on that righteous face of his and using those righteous words as though he was a knight in shining armor coming to slay all of Clarinda’s dragons! That person too was insufferable!
The boy was adopted. The Vargas old man was a chauvinistic prick and though he professed to love his daughters unconditionally, he still desired for a man to inherit the family’s legacy. This wasn’t the ideal premise for Eyria to like that boy: he came for the sake of taking away her birth’s rights! Just the thought was making it impossible for her to like him.
The boy was adopted. The Vargas old man was a chauvinistic prick and though he professed to love his daughters unconditionally, he still desired for a man to inherit the family’s legacy. This wasn’t the ideal premise for Eyria to like that boy: he came for the sake of taking away her birth’s rights! Just the thought was making it impossible for her to like him.
Thus, she messed with their lives quite badly to the point that she even forgot to live her own life. Her lifetime goal was always to make them uncomfortable. Now what? They were no more. Her mother was no more. She suddenly felt lonely. In the end, she was a prisoner of her own thoughts.
The letters, she discovered while reading through the accumulated dust, were of apologies. There were ones calling out to friendship also. Maybe, that girl hasn't always been set on hurting her either. For the first time, Eyria tried thinking about that family that had been forced her way without any bias. Clarinda’ fault, in the end, what had it been? To be alive? To be the living proof of her father’s untrustworthy personality?
And Callen? Where was he wrong? He must have been, certainly, quite happy to be adopted. Maybe he even dreamed of a perfect family back in the orphanage he used to live in.
Ah, what good will come in thinking about it all? She took the cardboard and went to the living room.
She opened another bottle of alcohol and started drinking. Cigarettes and alcohol numbed the pain. She planned on drinking until oblivion tonight.
The bottle fell and crashed. She laughed giddily for no real reason and hungry, she devastated the fridge. So full was it, she should raise the cook’s salary, she thought. Accidentally, she opened the gas conduct without being aware of it.
After eating messily she fell to exhaustion and slept, never waking up again in this lifetime.
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