"God forbid you complain of evil to the one who thinks evil of you - you cannot do him greater good." ― Zarko Lausevic

"He was supposed to be the first man to tell her that she was beautiful and help her determine who she was before anyone had the opportunity to label her. She was supposed to be his "little girl"." ― Anais Torres,

"Just as courage endangers life, so does fear protect it." ― Leonardo da Vinci.

"Seems like yesterday

I lay down next to your boots and I prayed

For your anger to end

Oh Father I have sinned"

- Oh Father - Madonna

Chapter 33

The flight did not last long. Maybe that was really the case or maybe it was just a subjective feeling due to how afraid I was of what was waiting for me at the end. Seeing my childhood home again, I felt emotions that I shouldn't. Something was burning in my chest, but I knew that visiting the people I called my parents was the only solution. Our last meeting did not end on the best note, so my nervousness was drastically greater.

I didn't even know what I was expecting when I rang the familiar doorbell, but when it was opened by a woman who irresistibly reminded me of myself it was as if all thoughts had evaporated from my head. I looked at her with my dark eyes, the look she returned.

The initial shock she experienced when she saw me, although intense, did not last long. Her eyes soon began to fill with tears, and the movements of her chest showed she was breathing hard. She looked horrible. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were crumpled, and she barely wore any makeup. It was hard to recognize her since I had never seen her in that condition. The mother I had known all my life would never allow herself to look so disheveled. She was always dressed up, with a demeanor worthy of the royal. I felt bad seeing her in such a state, yet, I dreaded to know the reason behind it.

While I was occupied with my thoughts, she had already recovered and came to her senses. I jumped in surprise when I felt her arms around my body pulling me toward her and hugging me like never before. For the first time, after so long, after so many years of my life, I felt like she wasn't only my mother on paper but also in reality. For the first time I felt her embrace, her comforting scent. I was so overwhelmed with emotions caused by her small actions I couldn't help but break down in tears.

For the first time in my life, I stood at the door of my family home, in my mother's arms, shedding bitter tears on her shoulder. It felt amazing.

-

"I'm sorry," my mother's gentle, feminine voice made me look up from the cup of tea, which was almost intact.

The minutes passed so painfully it felt like days, and not just a little less than half an hour since I entered the house. The woman who gave birth to me and me sat in complete silence, deeply immersed in our thoughts on, very likely very similar topics. That's why I was quite surprised when she broke the uncomfortable atmosphere and said those, almost forbidden, words.

"For?" I asked her briefly, looking through my long, thick lashes. In some weird way it served me as a barrier. As much as I was provoking her, I was just as afraid to hear the end of her apology. Deep down, I knew what she wanted to say, so I tried to prepare for it. I came all the way here for one reason only, and I had no plans on leaving before I tried to get an answer.

"For everything," she began, taking a deep breath. "I know I wasn't the best mother, the question is whether I can call myself that at all, but I'm sincerely sorry," she said, almost out of breath, looking me straight in the eye.

"Don't you think it's a little late for that?" I asked her carefully, with a dose of sarcasm in my voice that I tried to control, but failed.

"Honey, if you only knew some things..." she paused before finishing her thought.

"I think I can guess," I murmured, partly not wanting her to actually hear me, but again loud enough for that to not be the case. She frowned and raised her eyebrows, suspecting that something was wrong as soon as I let those words out.

"What are you talking about?" She asked me, but I wasn't ready to respond. I wanted to, I really did. I needed to talk to the woman who gave birth to me, who was the only one who could give me advice, and yet, I was afraid. Of what? I wasn't sure myself. "Tara, love, did something happen?" She brought her chair closer to me, putting her hands over mine, trying to give me the strength to tell her everything.

The tenderness in her voice almost made me break down in front of her. I had an unbearable urge to throw myself into her arms, put my head on her chest, and cry like never before. I wanted to feel her hands caressing my hair and telling me that everything would be alright, that no one would ever hurt me again. I needed to know she was there. Still, I was old enough to understand that fairy tales were not real.

"Mateo and I-" I paused for a moment, choosing my words. "We have problems," I finally said, avoiding her gaze. Mateo would always tell me how awful of a liar I was, which was not far from the truth. No matter how distant we were, she was my mother, she knew me better than anyone in this world.

"Problems like?" Her voice was still gentle, but certain sharpness and a small dose of fear, as if she anticipated the worst, could certainly be felt.

Noticing that, I looked into her eyes. Those orbs so similar to mine were hiding so much. Emptiness, sadness, suffering, fear. The familiar shiver I felt in the moments when I refused to acknowledge it settled again in the corner of my heart, squeezing it with invisible claws. I didn't want to become like her. I was afraid of that more than anything in the world. As much as I blamed her, deep down I knew she couldn't go against my father. However, parts of me still resented her because she couldn't be at least a little braver and tried, if not to fight for me, to at least give me some kind of comfort. I was her child, her own blood, I lived in her womb for a full forty-two weeks, and she never seemed to care. I may have begun to realize that this was not exactly the case, but I had spent so many years of my life convinced of something that, despite my reason, I did not have the strength to tell her the truth.

"Usual stuff," I answered her briefly, already regretting what I had admitted.

Her next action was so unexpected that I wondered if I was starting to lose my mind. She clenched her hands hard, forcing me to look her directly in the eye, not letting me look away for a moment. At that moment, it was as if everything around me stopped. There were two of us and no one else. She looked at me with such ferocity as if trying to engrave her words directly into my mind, so I would never forget them.

"Tara, baby, I know that's not true, I know you're hiding something deeper, I can see it. You look like me, that tells me enough. I also know that, whatever it is, you are not going to tell me, but please, you must know something and always be sure of it. You have me, as much as you think you don't, you do, Tara. Leave him, leave that city and come back to me. Don't destroy yourself, love, it's not worth it. Don't live your life in misery like-" her voice broke and she stopped, unable to utter the words I already knew. "Don't, Tara, please don't. Don't destroy yourself when there is a way out, there always is," she wanted to say something else, I saw it by the fact that she closed her eyes tightly and opened them again, as if she gathered the strength to say what she wanted for a long time, to get something off her chest. However, a loud, strong and masculine voice prevented her from doing so, forcing her to wipe away the tears that were pouring down her face.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here."

My father finally decided to honor us with his presence.

-

My mother was never the best cook, especially because the meals were mostly prepared by someone else, but this time she outdid herself. The taste of the steak emphasized that it was well grilled and spicy enough, however, its smell made me feel so sick I thought I was going to vomit at any moment. Whether the reason for that was the fact that my nerves were on the verge of breaking or the meat was truly barely edible, I did not dare ask.

The tension that reigned over the table did not help my nausea at all. My father, with his head raised proudly, sat at the head of the table and brought every bite to his mouth with such grace that it felt like a provocation. My mother sat with her head down on his left side, not taking her eyes off the plate. She was eating so fast I thought she was going to choke. Based on the expression on her face, I concluded that she was not thrilled with what she had prepared either. It was obvious that she was anxious. Her hands were shaking so much that at one point her fork fell and hit the floor with a loud echo. Her husband did not give her a moment of attention even then, completely ignoring our existence.

The silence was almost unbearable, and a sad and frightened voice in the back of my mind was constantly nagging me that there was a reason why I had come to my parents' house. Deciding to break the awkward atmosphere, I cleared my throat and sighed deeply, preparing to finally use my voice. If it weren't so disturbing, I would probably find the situation comical. It was like I was preparing for war.

"Paul's fiancée died," I muttered.

I wanted to literally pat myself on the back for the wonderful topic I had chosen to start the conversation. There were times when I admired my intelligence and that one was definitely one of them.

"I heard," my father replied in a monotone voice. As expected, he did not stop eating, as if the whole situation did not concern him.

"I didn't see you at the funeral," I tried to deepen the conversation, no matter how morbid it may be.

"Very strange seeing as I wasn't there," he sarcastically said. if he had been a little more frivolous, he would surely have rolled his eyes.

"Why?" I asked him.

Probably he himself wondered where I got the courage to speak to him, let alone ask him a question. He finally stopped eating, setting aside the cutlery he used on the side. He brought the napkin to his lips and wiped the non-existent remnants of food on them and slowly putting it aside, lazily shifting his gaze to me.

"Why should I?" He replied, raising an eyebrow.

"His father is your business partner."

"And?" His voice was still void of emotions. The coldness he shone with was so disturbing that I almost shivered.

"And?" I repeated in disbelief. "Shouldn't you be there to comfort him?"

"Comfort for what?" He began to laugh. "Believe me, he had zero interest in that girl. If anything, he was annoyed that he had to pay the funeral."

"How can you say something like that?" I had an awful need to raise my voice, but a very familiar warning in my mind told me it would be a fatal mistake.

"Oh grow up Tara, people are not good, learn that once and for all," he spat in annoyance, giving me a pointed look to which I lowered my head.

"I'm beginning to understand," I muttered, but he didn't hear me. I was grateful though, I didn't want to see his reaction.

"Alexei, what do you think-" For the first time since we sat down, my mother spoke. She had every intention of changing the topic. However, a hard stare from my father made her shut up.

I almost had the need to laugh. The situation I went through a million times during my life with them began to gain new light and meaning. It was tragic how much it reminded me of something I had experienced myself.

At the very thought of becoming her, I clenched my fists. For the hundredth time my mind was clouded with those unnerving images, how I was going to be my mother, and having her in front of me to constantly remind me of that pushed me into desperate fear.

Deciding to finally do something in my life, I turned to my father with a determination I had allegedly never possessed before. Yet, deep down I was still that little, scared girl I had always been.

"We need to talk."

"Need?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Please," I added, knowing that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

He nodded in content and got up to head for his study, but the sharp sound of a chair scraping against the floor stopped us. My mother got up abruptly and stared at the two of us with wide eyes. I looked at her in confusion, to which she nervously put a lock of hair behind her ear and swallowed.

"Why don't you talk here?" She somehow asked.

"Don't be stupid, woman. Tara, walk," My father gave her a dirty look and jerk his head in my direction, telling me to follow him. However, just when I took the first step, my mother's frightened voice stopped me once again.

"But Alexei-" She tried one more time, but he quickly interrupted her.

"I said something!" He shouted so loudly that we both jumped. She quickly bowed her head and fell silent, not daring to say another word. "Tara," he told me in one word what to do without any implication. Just like before, I listened to him and walked silently to his study, slowly realizing that there was a huge chance I had made a mistake.

-

"So, what did you want to talk about?" The man who bore the title of my father asked me after a few moments of silence.

He was sitting behind his huge desk in a comfortable leather chair, leaning his elbows on the wooden surface with his hands folded. His gaze seemed to bury me deeper and deeper into the ground, so much so that I wanted it to swallow me.

The biggest problem was that I didn't even know where to start. It was clear as day what I wanted, but not how to put it into words. The worst thing of all, I still felt fear. That indescribable feeling that had been holding me back for so long and that obviously had no intention of disappearing.

"Well-" I started uncertainly but he interrupted me.

"What brings you here after you chose your lover instead of your family?" He asked me venomously, to which I looked at him in disbelief.

"Chose? It's not like I had a choice," I crossed my arms.

"Of course you had, you just chose the wrong one."

"You wanted to marry me off in the twenty-first century without my consent! How is that normal?!" I became angry, furious, which was not good at all if I wanted to confront him in the right way.

"You've lived all your life in luxury, ungratefully If I may add. Sometimes, a sacrifice has to be made," he shrugged as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Can you hear yourself?"

"Perfectly."

"Lived in luxury?" I laughed sarcastically. "Yes, I absolutely lived in the economical luxury, which could not be said for the family aspect."

"What more could you want, huh?"

"A little love wouldn't hurt!" I started shouting. As much as I wanted to be calm and cold like him, I couldn't. I never could.

"Didn't you find love in that good for nothing moron?" He asked me with the wickedest smile I've ever seen.

That was enough to drive me over the edge. The tears I tried to stop began to fall freely down my face, not caring about anything, not even that they made me look weak, and my father hated weak people.

"He hit me," I whispered.

The silence that followed was deafening. Yet, I felt relieved, finally uttering those words, finally admitting what was bothering me, tormenting me, why I had suffered so much, to someone who was my blood, someone whose duty was to protect me for the rest of my life, someone who gave me my life.

I waited for his answer. I waited and waited and waited and nothing. With eyes full of tears I looked up and pointed it directly at his. For the first time, his face was not emotionless, void of everything. There was something about him, something that the lines of barely noticeable wrinkles showed, something that his wide eyes pointed to. Something I couldn't interpret because I truly never knew my father.

"You probably deserved it."

Four words. Four simple words. Four words used daily in communication. Four words that, at that moment, meant something far more, far sadder and far darker.

Tears that I no longer hid, no matter how pathetic it was, began to pour down my face even harder. I looked into the eyes of the man whose genetic material I carried, who raised me and who meant the world to me. I looked into the eyes of the man who I put on a pedestal, who I defended after every criticism, every bad word, every blow. I looked into the eyes of the man who broke my heart first.

"How can you say something like that?" I cried.

"Look at you, Tara, look at how pathetic you are. You're supposed to be my daughter? I didn't raise you like that, you weren't like that. It's painful to watch what you have become. A weak, pathetic person who is beaten by her boyfriend," he told me with the disgust evident on his aged, but unrealistically beautiful face. The face that now represented all the pain of this world.

Fury. A new emotion was born in me. Fury that was growing more and more every second to the breaking point. Fury that threatened to be out of control. Fury that will surely turn into my downfall.

"You should be the one to defend me from him! From that fucking boyfriend who beats me! You and no one else!" I jumped to my feet and came to stand in front of him. My eyes only saw red and I forgot about everything else, even how dangerous my actions could be.

He stood up right after. His face was overwhelmed with emotion again, an emotion so similar to mine.

"Didn't you choose him instead of us, Tara? What is it now? A little trouble in paradise and you immediately run home to hide behind dad so he can protect you again. It's sad how weak and stupid you are," he said with a cynical smile on his face, to which I began to laugh uncontrollably with a sarcasm reeking off me.

"Again? And when did you exactly protect me?" I touched his chest condemningly with my finger.

He didn't like my actions, so he automatically grabbed my wrist and pushed me so hard that I fell to the ground, hitting my head on the floor. For a moment, black dots appeared before my eyes and I had the impression that I would lose consciousness. However, I managed to recover at least enough to ask him something that bothered me every day without exception.

"Why don't you love me, dad? You never have, even before Mateo, I know that. I was always ready to give my life for you. I looked at you as the most valuable person in this world. I looked up to you. I loved you. And you? You never did. Why? Why?" I asked him, sobbing.

The headache had already started, but I somehow managed to raise my hand to wipe away the tears that were falling uncontrollably down my face. However, he did not wait. He reached the place where I was lying on the floor, lowered himself so that he could look me in the eyes that were already glazed due to tears and fall, and uttered words with such poison that they were etched in my memory.

"How can I love someone like you? You don't deserve it. You don't deserve to be loved. You're not worthy of it, Tara, you've never been. I'm ashamed of you. You have become my greatest embarrassment and nothing in this world can ever change that." Saying that he continued to look at me with the same emotion from a few moments ago, the one I could not recognize, he got up and, without taking another look at me, he turned and left, leaving me lying on the cold floor of his study.

Maybe he was right, he most definitely was. He was a powerful and strong businessman and me, his daughter, a weak and pathetic little girl who cries when things go wrong, no matter how insignificant it might be. Could I have blamed him at all? I got the answer I came for. Deep down, I had already known it but I had refused to admit it. There had been a crumb of hope in me, a glimmer of light telling me that everything would be fine. That I will return home, be with my parents and finally be happy. I almost laughed at that thought. Me happy? Only people who deserve it get it, not me, not someone who is not worth it. Not someone who wasn't loved by her own parents. Not someone who has lost herself, who is programmed and controlled by others. Not someone like me. It was not possible for me to be happy. Never.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed since that man left the room. I was in complete darkness, with dried tears on my face and pain from sitting on the cold floor, pain that seemed like nothing. Constantly replaying Alexei's last words, I reached for the phone, which already had a crack on the screen due to the force of the fall. I didn't think for more than two seconds, there was no need. With the last thought of the man who gave me life, I called the number of the only person who had ever love and who would ever love me.

-

The flight back did not last long. I blinked and the flight attendant had already announced that we would be landing soon. Looking out the windows into the blue sky, I couldn't help but think how ironically bright it was. Perhaps the universe had a strange way of conveying messages to its inhabitants.

The drop that fell on my palm caught my attention and brought me back to reality. Bringing my fingers to my cheeks I noticed they were still wet. I was beginning to wonder how I got so many tears, so much fluid in my body for a new rush every fifteen minutes. I even searched the internet to get an answer to the question of whether can crying cause dehydration. I did not find a concrete answer.

We finally landed. I left the city of my childhood once and for all and returned for good to a city that took everything away from me but that may have given me a new opportunity.

I approached the exit and started descending the stairs. There was no going back. That one step would decide my whole destiny. I left everything behind, everything I had ever known, I had suffered for. The only question left was: what's next. What was in my future and was I ready to face it. For a moment I looked up and, in the distance, saw eyes as dark as if they had sucked up the whole world. I didn't know if that was really the case, but one thing was for sure, my world was definitely consumed by them.

Deciding to do something without thinking it through once again, one last time, listening to only my heart, I ran towards the only person who could give me peace. To the only person who could bring me back to life as much as put an end to it. What the epilogue would be, it was on him.

He ran towards me and a second later, he appeared right in front of my body, a millimeter away. He grabbed my hips, lifted me into the air and pinned me to him. I wrapped my legs around his waist to which he placed one hand under my buttocks to prevent me from falling, the other squeezing me even harder to his chest.

He started to leave kisses on every part of my face. Neck, ears, forehead, cheek, eyes, nose and lips. Lips that longed for him. Lips that only waited for him. He was kissing me without a break as if he was afraid he would lose me if he left my skin without his touch even for a moment.

"There is only you and me, baby girl, no one else, only you and me, alone in this world," he whispered.

For the first time in who knows how long, I cried with relief.

A/N

I've been writing this chapter for literally two weeks and not once did it turn out the way I wanted it. I wanted it to be emotional, to make you all feel something, but it was like I had writer's block or something. Still, I can't say I'm disappointed, it's not perfect but I kinda like it and I hope you guys will like it too <3

Thank you sooooooo much for all the comments and votes and messages that I receive both here and on Instagram, they mean a world to me and make my day better every single time

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Love you all xx