Chapter 0002

I honestly don't know how I would face the world after this. I mean, everyone thought I'd gone crazy. I'd lost my baby on top of that, so I knew even if I were to get out of here, life wouldn't be the same, but that was not my focus now; leaving this place was.

“D-dad?” I mumbled as I tried to stand on my feet but fell back on my butt as my legs were literally weak, not just from the beatings but from hunger too.

Well, I knew trying again wouldn't work, so I settled on my butt and crawled to the mattress, which was surprisingly fixed. In fact, my room was now looking all clean as the nurses finished the touches of the pillow before they walked to where she was.

After a few more moments, the door was opened by one of the nurses and revealed Mom and Dad.

“Aaliyah?” They both ran to her, looking and sounding concerned.

“I'm fine, Pappa, Mamma. I'm fine.” She told them as they crowded her.

“No, you're not fine, honey; look at you. Look at how puffed your eyes are.” Mom said as she wiped her imaginary tears.

“Rodrigo told us you're rarely sleeping, that you're having nightmares,” Dad added. They both sounded so worried for her, and even though I'm supposed to be used to their favoritism, I still couldn't stop my heart from twisting in pain and maybe a hint of jealousy.

I'm the one here looking all crazy, the one who has been bullied, who hasn't had a proper bath, who lost their baby, who is about to go through a divorce, and who the world thought was crazy. I am the one who lost everything, yet here they were, disregarding my pain.

“You need to calm down.”

“How, Mama, how?”

“Honey?”

“No, Mama, I can't be calm. I can't knowing she still has my life.”

“And she's giving it back to you.”

“Oh really? Because it’s been more than a week now, even in this place, she still refuses to sign them. I am sick, Papa. I'm sick and tired of all of this!” She raised her voice, clearly forcing tears, and of course, they fell for it as they gently rubbed her back in a comforting manner.

“She will sign them,” Mom assured her.

Okay, these people haven't even spared me a glance since they got here. I can understand Mom since I wasn't her real daughter, but Dad? I was his blood, for God's sake; why on earth did he treat me like this?

“I just want my life back. Mama, I gave her eight years, eight years to enjoy herself. I went to live my life, and now that I'm back, she's supposed to give it back. She's supposed to sign the papers and then let life go on instead…” She broke off, sobbing. Now, I knew her well, so I could tell she was faking it.

“I know, baby, I know. Oscar, better speak to your daughter because I won't let her get away with this.”

“She will sign them, okay? Just take Aaliyah outside; let me speak to her.” Dad assured her, and she nodded before she led Aaliyah, who was now in her arms, out.

I was just staring at Dad with tears rolling down my cheeks; they had reached my neck and were dripping between my breasts. I could feel them through this stupid clinic dress I was wearing since it wasn't made of strong fabric.

Yes, they have really turned me into a crazy one, as they dressed me like one of their patients, too.

“You too, out.” Dad's authoritative voice shook me out of my thoughts as I looked up at him. He had his hands in his pockets. I silently watched him take small steps toward me, and when he reached me, he squatted and picked up the envelope.

He tore it open and then took out the papers, which I'm sure needed my signature. He didn't say a word as he threw them on the small mattress next to me. I dodged it on time, or it could have hit my face.

Sniffing, I continued watching him as he walked to the small window, his hands crossed on his back.

“Eighteen years ago, I took you to an island. Do you remember our conversation?” He asked, his voice neutral. Having grown up with this man, I knew how he could lose his temper over simple things, so I quickly nodded my head and forced my voice out, saying I did remember, “Are you sure?”

“Y-yes, Father.”

“Good, now…” A knock stopped him as he turned toward the door; my eyes were already there as I wondered who it was.

“It's her husband; he said he wants to speak to her.” It was one of the nurses.

“Rodrigo?” Dad sounded confused as he stole a quick glance at me; well, I was, too.

“Yes, sir, and he says it's urgent; he needs to see her now.” The nurse said, and before Dad could respond, the door slammed open, and there came my husband, Rodrigo.

Security men came right behind him, clearly trying to stop him, but didn't dare touch him. Of course, nobody dared; he was Rodrigo, and he ran Atlanta.

“Privacy.” He demanded just one word, which sent everyone, including the security men, stumbling out—well, everyone except Dad: “You too, Mr. Wilson.”

“I—”

“Five minutes.” He cut him, and yes, if Dad could listen to anyone, it was Rodrigo, so nodding his head, he exited the room after clapping on Rodrigo's back.

When the door was closed, my heart skipped a beat, and I took in a shaky breath.

I haven't spoken to my husband since all this happened. I didn't know his reaction or what he had to say about all of this, and his facial expression wasn't helping either, as it was mild.

God, I didn't know what to hope for, even.