━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

CHAPTER 07

━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

I settled into the chair and watched Mom. She kept looking at me throughout dinner, silently announcing that I was in trouble.

At some point, I started feeling overwhelmed because of the long-sleeved shirt I was forced to wear to hide the red mark. That, and because the thought crossed my mind to tell them everything that had happened, but I couldn't find a way. They wouldn't believe me.

In the end, all I managed to talk about was the reason that has had me limping for the past few days. But they already knew that something had fallen on my foot when the garage lights exploded.

"Tomorrow afternoon, I'll talk to the electrician to have the fuse box checked. I assume there's a short circuit somewhere," Dad said, waving his fork. It was a total of three lights that had exploded, and I knew the cause had a name and a dazzling appearance, but also a very disturbing past.

Once dinner was over, Mom was the first to get up from the table.

"Zara, help me with the dishes."

I tried not to respond to the curious looks from the three men in the house and started to pick up the plates to take them to the kitchen.

As I approached, Mom turned around and crossed her arms.

"The coach called me."

I almost dropped everything in the sink.

"What was the reason?" I turned on the tap, pretending I didn't know anything about it, although I was terrified of what might have happened afterward with Natale. I didn't have a chance to ask for help for her, so I still felt terrible.

"I don't understand what's going on with you. I let the disaster from last week slide because I thought you had forgotten to close the door. But now, your coach tells me that you've behaved even worse. Why did you hurt her and then your teammate?"

I shut off the water flow and turned with an unpleasant feeling in my throat. If anyone else heard her words, they would think I was crazy, but what happened with the coach wasn't even intentional. And as for Natale, the shadow was after the medallion; otherwise, it wouldn't have attacked both of us.

"It was an accident," I defended myself.

"In both instances?" she asked incredulously. "I know you're lying, Zara. You're terrible at it. You're grounded. I can't tolerate this kind of behavior."

Her accusation felt like a stab to the chest.

"What's going on?" Dad came in, looking distressed. It must have worried him that Mom and I were starting another argument. Those kinds of situations happen frequently and over anything, except this time the discussion escalated to an even worse level.

"Here." Mom pointed at me. "Your daughter managed to throw a mountain of desks at her classmate. She almost killed her!"

Anyone listening to her... It sounded terrible.

Dad looked at me in surprise, and I felt the knot in my throat tighten. At the same time, tears threatened to fall from my eyes. I wasn't one to cry easily, but her accusations hurt.

"Did you at least consider the possibility that it wasn't me?" I asked in a whisper. She opened her mouth but didn't say a word.

I should have started with that, but I didn't expect the coach to stoop so low. She caught me off guard. Both of them did.

And what dug deep into my being was that Mom believed I was capable of doing such a thing.

I looked at Dad, seeking his help. He seemed to struggle to process what he had just heard. I didn't wait for the tears to fall, and I escaped from the kitchen.

"Come back here. We're not done talking!" she yelled after me, and Dad stopped her.

Once safely in my room, I could hear their argument and the hammering in my chest.

I was sure that the next day, Mom would realize she was wrong and apologize. Dad would make her see reason, but it would be too late for my feelings. She didn't trust me. She didn't even seem to know me.

I let my back find support against the door, and in my disappointment and loneliness, I slid down to the floor. In a pitiful attempt to console myself, I hugged my legs and buried my head in my knees.

"Don't cry," I repeated to myself several times. "You're stronger than that."

They were never home, and Mom only believed the things that others told her. Could I expect anything more from their absence in my life? Maybe that's what having two troublesome kids entailed; they were never there for me.

Every time the people who were supposed to be the most important in my life made me feel like I didn't exist, I wished I could disappear.

"Suppressing your emotions isn't a good idea." The voice emerged from the darkness, reminding me that I had forgotten to turn on the light. "If you want to cry, you just have to do it."

I slowly got up and walked towards him.

That was it.

It was his fault.

"If you hadn't shown up..." My voice broke as I stopped right in front of him. "Why did you do it?" I pushed him, but he didn't step back. He just looked at me with a sadness that perfectly reflected how I was feeling. That was enough for me to realize. I felt it as a mental blowback, which put a stop to my intentions.

At that moment, I was behaving just like Mom. I was judging him without knowing all the details.

I didn't want to be like her.

"I'm sorry." The words came out strained.

He wasn't to blame for my problem with Mom.

Even if Ashton hadn't appeared, the situation wouldn't have changed. Everything would have remained the same. Me, locked within four walls and in solitude. As usual.

My lips trembled, releasing a sob as Ashton rushed forward, gently enveloping me in his arms as if I could break.

He was icy, but I felt warmth in his embrace.

After all, I had started to go a little mad.

"It's okay to cry," he whispered, giving me a comforting pat on the back that made me break down in tears.

That was the first time I allowed myself to let it all out, and it had to be with him.

The next day, my eyes opened with difficulty. They were swollen from all the tears shed, and my eyelids seemed to have been glued shut. I cleared them with my fingers, and soon I wondered how long he had been watching me cry. I used to be pretty good at swallowing everything that affected me, but then he appeared, and with a tap on my back, he opened the floodgates of my eyes.

However, I felt a little better. That was the truth.

I rubbed the rest of my face and glanced around for Ashton. But of course, he was nowhere to be found. What else did I expect? The morning sunlight flooded every corner of my room.

Someone yelled, and I was jolted up with a slamming of the door.

"Wake up, Goliath!" Vincent roared, and I screamed in fright. He was wearing emoji underwear, exposing his robust figure. His short, blond hair was tousled, evidence that he had recently gotten up. "Wake up, uh! Wake up, uh!"

I took a step back as his green eyes flashed at me, and he climbed onto my bed, performing the dance of a wild gorilla. I didn't know how he hadn't hit his head on the ceiling yet, considering he was brushing against it with his hair. That's what it was like to be part of a family of giant children.

I threw the first thing I found nearby, but with a strange somersault, he managed to kick the pillow, which hit the door and knocked down everything hanging behind it.

"Vincent!" I shouted.

With a leap, he jumped off the bed and waved his arms in the air while shaking his waist, performing another disturbing dance. A minute later, just as I was about to push him out of my room, he lunged at me and lifted me over his shoulder.

"Mine!" he growled.

"Get out of my room, you animal!" I screamed, hitting his back.

"Park day!" he emphasized like a fool.

He dropped me onto the mattress and fled just before another pillow managed to hit him, this time.

I kicked until the sheet ended up on the floor.

What did Dad suddenly hope to achieve with his magnificent idea of a "Park Day"?

I already had enough to worry about.

Uncomfortable. That was the best word to describe the situation.

Vincent, Josef, and I stood petrified as we looked at the amusement park, although it looked more like a fair. From what I could see from the outside, there were some rides like a roller coaster, a sort of pirate ship, and a Ferris wheel.

"Is this a joke?" I sighed unwillingly.

I started to understand why Mom refused to accompany us this afternoon, although it also relieved me in a way.

It was the first time Dad had come up with something like this because, as he also used to work late, on days off he didn't even want to think about leaving the house.

The twins exchanged knowing looks and soon began to scream with joy, like animals in mating season. The doctors must have missed something when they were born. Their behavior was not normal.

"Look, Goliath," Vincent said after nudging me to get my attention. "There's one in your honor." He pointed to a poorly constructed tent and, above it, a sign that said, "Dare to challenge the witch."

They both laughed at my annoyed expression.

Was it normal to feel like I didn't fit in with my own family?

Dad returned with the tickets and gestured for us to follow him.

The twins' faces began to show disappointment as we moved forward, leaving the best attractions behind.

"Are you kidding me?" Josef disapproved, stopping in his tracks.

On tiptoe, I tried to look over the crowd. My blood froze as I discovered the tent's abstract and neon colors. There was also the name The Circus marked with fluorescent lights. Below it, it said something else, but I couldn't make it out.

People were lining up to enter. And meanwhile, I had to hold onto my soul as if it were my pants. Otherwise, I would have run far away from there.

"The show starts at eight. You can go for a ride in the meantime." Dad handed us the tickets and joined the line.

I lowered my gaze to look at the piece of paper, feeling as if it were my pass to hell itself.

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