Chapter 7

Chapter seven

Emily

After Tasha dropped me off at home, alone - which was the most reckless decision I'd made that evening, I drowned myself in some few bottles of whiskey. What was I thinking? That it would soothe my pain? Crap, I only woke up with a banging hangover.

The next morning, my noisy phone ringtone shook me awake. I shot a glance at the screen and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It was my cousin, Julian. What did he want?

"What is it?" I started, bracing up for a verbal war, but out came the softest reply ever.

"When you didn't reply to the message, I thought something happened." 

I cringed. "Message?" I repeated, sitting up on my bed. "What message?"

"Erh, about grandpa's gathering. Today. I mailed it to you yesterday, and was looking forward to a quick response from you."

Did something happen? Julian was being too nice. I opened my eyes wide and looked around, zooming my attention on the brown envelope on the table. Slowly, I recalled picking up the mail the night before and dumping it on the table along with some other notes.

"Yea, okay. I'll be there." I replied, wide awake.

"You have to come." Julian added, not hauntingly, and not politely either. But there was something in his tone that I couldn't pick up.

"Sure." I replied, and ended the call.

I was going to drop my phone when another call came in. This time, it was Tasha. "Hi," I said into the phone, wiping lines of saliva off my face.

"Hey, girl, are you okay?" She started in her usual sing-song voice. "I felt disgusted at myself for leaving you by yourself last night, but I didn't know if you wanted company."

"No, it's fine. I had a good sleep." I lied, looking down at the empty whiskey bottle now laying close to me.

"That's good to know. I also thought you wouldn't want me around after," she stopped abruptly, probably choosing her choice of words. I didn't mind. Tasha was ever considerate, and I didn't take that for granted. "....after what happened."

"You're right, I just wanted to be alone, but it would've been fine if you stayed." I said, shutting another glance at the empty whiskey bottle.

"So, what are you doing today?" She asked out of the blue.

"Attending my grandpa's honor party." I answered, rousing from the bed to stand in front of the mirror.

The reflection on the mirror broke my heart into countless pieces. Once again, I felt the sword of betrayal carve into my chest like a serrated blade, jagged and unyielding, as I noticed the dirty lines my tears and mascara had drawn down my cheeks. I was a mess.

The events of the past few weeks weren't merely heartbreaking: they'd broken me in such a way that I'd lost my very essence and integrity. There was a whispering torment that clawed at my mind and made me question everything I'd ever known about myself. Was I worthless? 

"What?" Tasha's voice carried the weight of her emotion. She, too, was hurting on my behalf. "Are you sure you want to attend? You know you could just stay back, right?"

"No, I want to attend. It's for grandpa, anyway." I answered, still peering at my reflection in the mirror.

"Emily, I know you do not want a repeat of what happened last night. You can still reconsider going."

I thought for a moment about what she said, and the voices in my head seemed to echo out loud. 'Don't you think that you deserved what had happened?' No matter how hard I tried, I could not silence the voices. Yet, amidst the blasphemous blabbers in my head, some part of me refused to die. Perhaps it was stubbornness, or hope. Or, maybe it was simply a survival instinct. Whatever the reason, I wasn't going to give up.

"I'll call you later. I should get ready." I quickly said into the phone.

"See you soon." Tasha sighed, with a hint of resignation.

"You bet."

After the call, and a fresh bath, I began the slow, grueling task of pulling myself back together. Piece by piece, like some half-lit seamstress working with trembling fingers to mend a silk suit. 

The truth was, I didn't want to appear before that family again, but grandfather had been the only person in the family who had ever really seen me. The only man in the family who had really known me. The only man who had defended me when others had whispered. The only man who had slipped me extra slices of cake when I was hurting. The only man who had believed in me when I hadn’t. The thought of returning to that house, and to that family was almost too much to bear. The idea of facing their stares, their smug smiles, their weaponized  her stomach twist into knots, but not showing up? That would be giving them exactly what they wanted. It would also mean letting down the only person in that entire bloodline who had truly mattered to me. 

So, like a soldier getting ready for war, I tucked on an elegant peach dress - one that screamed ‘fearless,’ and twisted my wavy black hair up, applied makeup with a steady hand, and practiced meeting my own gaze in the mirror until it no longer trembled. Then, with every ounce of courage I could muster, I drove the fifteen minutes drive from my apartment to grandpa's house, quite conscious, as I stepped into the lion’s den.

The moment my heels clicked across the threshold of the ancestral estate, a hush fell over the room like the tolling of a bell. Conversations that had moments ago been loud and carefree froze mid-sentence. Heads turned in unison. A thousand eyes cold, curious, judgmental, locked on me like searchlights in the dark. The silence wasn’t empty, it was heavy, loaded with unspoken accusations and the gleeful anticipation of drama. It screamed what no one dared say aloud: There she is. The scandal. The disappointment. The girl they’ve all taken turns dissecting behind closed doors.

They were right, I was that girl, and here I was.