Chapter 25
My heavy lashes fluttered, but seeing came a few seconds later. I found myself on a bed in a wide, empty room, and I stayed, unable to move; all I could do was stare at the white ceiling with its chandelier hanging over me. It illuminated a golden light, and my senses tried to make calculations of it. It was beautiful and peaceful, and though I couldn’t remember much, I knew I had not felt this
way in a while.
Was this heaven? Was this my heaven? If it was, it wasn’t so bad; the peace and beauty were like none other, but this wasn’t heaven. There would have been much joy, happiness, and people if it
were. Also, I would be able to move,
I wanted to move, though, but I couldn’t; I couldn’t move my head or my mouth. The only thing I could move was my eyes, which scanned as much of the big room as possible. My eyes found a beeping monitor above my head, which made it hard to spot, and beside it was an IV pole with a drip on it, connected to my hand. I noticed I had a respiratory mask over my face to aid my
breathing.
Where was I, and what the hell happened to me?
Being unable to move robbed me of the peace I thought I had found. I began struggling and wrestling with my body, wanting it to move and obey.
Why am I here? How did I get into this place, and how could I get out?
My ears picked up footsteps from outside the room, and the door opened seconds later. A grey–haired man stepped into the room, and I couldn’t place him in my memory even though he
looked somewhat familiar,
“You are awake. That’s good; that’s very good,” he said with a thick Spanish accent.
My heart picked up a faster pace in his presence, and his eyes moved to the now–racing heart
monitor beside me, then back to me.
Nothing in the last two minutes of being awake was good. In this God–forsaken world, nothing was
good.
He raised his hands in surrender, noting my apprehension. “It’s fine; you are okay. I am not here to
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harm you. I found your body swept away while I was returning from fishing.” He chuckled richly. “I
went out to fish, but I got you instead.”
Perhaps he intended for that to cheer me up, but he saw that it didn’t.
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“The doctor said you might have attempted suicide,” he said in a quiet voice. “But I do not believe that. I do not believe you would want to harm yourself, especially in your condition.”
My memory returned while I struggled, and I remembered everything. I remembered my life with Oliver and how it all crumbled like a sand castle before the tides. I remember losing Elena and having Oliver lay his hands on me.
My eyes stung, remembering the look on his face, and it ate me away. It made me wish for death.
I wasn’t dead, which meant the torture would continue. I knew they wouldn’t stop. They were coming for me, they would kill me. They won’t stop until they do. Tears well up in my eyes, knowing what being alive in this world meant. I’d never be safe, I’d never be free, and death would have been
so much better.
I shut my eyes as the tears ran down the side of my face. He should have left me for death. That would have been mercy. I groaned, and my lashes fluttered as my headache returned in massive folds. Perhaps I was not supposed to be thinking so many thoughts so quickly.
“I couldn’t leave you…” He said it as if he were reading my very thoughts. He probably saw my misery and realised he didn’t save me–not really.
“I wanted to help with the hope that the same would be done for me… I couldn’t ignore and move on; only a monster would do so. I’ve already committed numerous heinous acts in my life; I couldn’t possibly add abandoning you to the list.” He revealed.
My eyes lost their focus, and I sobbed and bit down on my trembling lower lip.
He didn’t say anything; he just stood there while I sobbed bitterly at the life that I would have to
carry on with. He had no clue the hell he had brought me back into.
I didn’t know how long silence ruled, but it was soon impeached as the older man began to speak.
“Every year for the past three years, I’ve visited the States, and I take my boat and head out to fish. I used to do that with my daughter because she went to school in the States and loved the country. It became our thing; we would talk about school, business, sports, and friends. She was my world, and I was her hero.” He paused, and I found him struggling to speak. Whatever he talked about must have been a terrible experience.
Why was he telling me? He didn’t owe me anything. He didn’t need to inform me, yet I was confined to this bed, compelled to listen to him.
“Three
years ago, I went fishing with her, and I returned alone.” He said, the guilt in his voice could not compare to the one on his face: “We searched for her for six months, but we never found her body. I go to the States every year. I get on my boat and drive out, and I stay there for the entire day,
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Chapter 25
telling her about sports, business, and family in hopes that she would return to me the way she left. I tell her I love her, miss her, and can’t wait to be with her. I’ve done that on every anniversary of her death, and I did the same this year. The last thing I expected was finding her again after three years.” He finished, and a grateful smile came over his face, ridding it of the guilt that had lingered.
I wanted to tell him I wasn’t his daughter and it was a mere coincidence. The men that caught me
threw me over the bridge to finish what they had started. That was my story, not the one he was telling. I couldn’t speak, so he continued.
“When I found your body, I knew it was God’s way of giving me another chance, and I was not going to waste it. I couldn’t save my daughter, but I could save you, and I had to help immediately, and only when I brought you to my boat did I realise you were the striking resemblance of my daughter
Valeria.”
This man was crazy. I was trapped in the ward with a crazy man, and I couldn’t even bring myself to move or speak. My heart monitor gave up my fear because it picked up my racing heartbeat again.
He smiled and shook his head, and I found hope in his eyes. “I thought I was crazy. I thought your resemblance was only in my head, and I replaced your face with hers because I wanted my
daughter back so badly. When we brought you in, I requested a DNA test to put my suspicion to rest.”
My heart tightened up in my chest.
“My name is Marcel Boris Garcia; I am your father.” He said, and my heart beat stopped.
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