The unfinished warning

Isabella Pov

My mind drifted, the way it always did when things became too much to bear. Back to my mum. Back to the accident. Back to that night — the night that changed everything.

My mum had just had an argument with my dad. I was just five years old, frail and innocent. I could hear them arguing about something but couldn't make out the words. I curled my knees up, bringing my head down, trying to soothe myself. My eyes were becoming blurry with tears, my cheeks red.

Boom! I heard something shatter, and my heart skipped a beat. I scurried to my feet, my little legs carrying me as fast as they could to their door.

The door was slightly open, and I peered through the gap. I could see papers flying, the room scattered, things turned upside down. Then my mum said something that made my dad's blood run cold. His face twisted in terror, and he took a step back, gripping the edge of the window for support, his hands trembling.

I took a step back, but bumped into a table, and that got their attention.

My mum hurried over to where I was, crouching down to my level, running her hands over me.

"Oh my baby, I'm so sorry. I'm a bad mum. I shouldn't have let you see this." She pulled me into herself, hugging me tightly. "Oh baby, I'm really sorry. Mummy's sorry." Tears were streaming down her face.

My mum stood up, looking at my dad who hadn't said a word yet. Her face was filled with fury. "We are done." She said, grabbing my little hand, and we walked down the stairs and into her car. She put my seatbelt on at the back seat, then got into the front.

"Mummy, what's wrong? Are we leaving daddy?" I said, my voice breaking. I sniffled, and the tears I'd been holding came rushing down.

"No no, baby. Daddy and mummy just had a fight, nothing more. Everything's alright." She reassured me, but I knew it was a lie. I always knew when she was lying. I could see it in the way she was restless, looking sideways as she drove, her eyes scanning the empty road.

"Mummy, it's late at night. Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe, baby. I need you safe. I need to do something very important." She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, driving at a higher speed now.

"Mummy, what's wrong?" I was fully crying now, not caring about the tears. "I don't want you and daddy to be sad."

My mum looked back, bringing one hand to the back seat, holding mine. "Baby, I need you to listen to me carefully. I need you to make me a promise."

"What promise, mummy?" I asked, searching her eyes. She looked afraid. And that made me afraid too. "Talk, mummy. You're scaring me."

"I need you to promise me you won't trust….." My eyes darted towards the road as a blaze of light blinded us.

"Mummy, watch out!" My mum looked forward hurriedly, the lights blinding her. She tried swerving the car to the other side of the road, but it was too late.

The truck hit us with full force, making our car tumble. Glass shattering. The world spinning — one, two, three, foour — then silence.

I felt the pain before I could register anything else. I struggled to open my eyes, but the blood dripping from my forehead made it difficult.

"Mummy? Mummy, where are you?" I shouted, blindly reaching out for her. "Mummy?" I called again.

"Ba…by. I'm here. Mummy…." She let out a breathy cough, her voice cracking. "I'm here….baby. I'm…he….." Then silence.

"Stupid girl, what are you thinking about?" Vero snarled, snapping me back to the present. "Ways to avoid this marriage? There's no way out."

The slap came before I could process what was going on. My head snapped sideways, my cheek burning. Anger flared in my eyes, and I had to blink profusely to hide the tears building up. 

I raised my hands and sighed— I'm not getting married to anyone. I don't want to marry him.” 

"Who do you think you are to refuse this marriage? Huh?" Veronica, my stepmother snarled, pointing a finger right at me. "What makes you think you have a say here? What audacity!" She grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head backwards. I winced in pain, but kept my eyes steady.

I kept my face straight, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing my weakness. I could not speak. I could not move. I just stood there, motionless, as I was being dragged like a slave in my father's house. 

The marriage she was talking about was to Liam Hale. A man possibly twice my age, confined to a wheelchair after a car accident that had left him bitter and broken. My father had signed the papers and had sold me like a property in exchange for a business deal that would save his failing company. I was nothing more than a transaction.

Veronica had married my dad three months after my mum's death. I still wonder if my dad was so eager to move on that he couldn't wait till the mourning period was over before going after this woman.

Beside Vero was Caroline, her daughter. Twenty three years old, slender. Her dark straight hair fell on both sides of her shoulders, her face twisted in what looked like disgust.

"Speak, you idiot!" Vero spat. "Oh, wait. You can't speak. That's right." She chuckled as if it were funny, Caro joining her. They were both laughing at me, devoid of guilt.

I bit my cheeks to hide the tears that were fighting to run down my cheeks. I blinked profusely, my eyes already blurry. 

I sighed—You can't tell me what to do. Over my head body would I marry someone like him. 

"Your father has already signed the papers. You're already theirs." Caro laughed. "Can't believe you'd be getting married to a crippled man." 

“Acting like you do have a choice,” Caro chuckled. “Do you expect me to marry him instead? Oh my! You're disabled, he's crippled, what a perfect match! Two disabled people coming together to form a union.” She gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. 

I felt that sting. If only my mum was still alive, I wouldn't be here with them. 

I looked at Vero, then at Caro, both smiling, giggling and laughing like this was something funny. Their eyes were devoid of pity and empathy. They were genuinely enjoying this. 

Vero finally let go of my hair, smoothed her skirt, and walked away, leaving me standing there alone.

I lifted my hand slowly and pressed it against my stinging cheek, but there were no tears. I had run out of those a long time ago. Tears would make them think they had succeeded in breaking you. And I won't make them think so. 

I was left alone in that big kitchen where I was cooking, thinking about how my life had taken a turn. 

But one thing I hadn't run out of was the memory of that unfinished promise. The one my mum never got to finish.

I need you to promise me you won't trust…

Who? Who was I not supposed to trust?

Maybe if I h

ad known, none of this would have happened. Maybe that would have changed everything.