I be excused for an hour, please?” He nods his head but seems a little apprehensive by my sudden interest in my mother.
I quickly fly out the door and run towards my car. People are looking at me, probably wondering what on earth is going on, but I don’t stop to explain.
I race to my mother’s address, breaking all sorts of speed limits, thankful not to get caught by the police.
When I find the street I’m looking for, I slowly drive down, looking for number four-one-one-three. I stop outside and see a little detached house with a row of pretty flowers along the front. I kill the engine, make my way to the house, and start knocking frantically.
When there’s still no answer after several minutes, I curse the fact that it looks like she isn’t in. Heading back to my car, I notice there’s a side entrance to the house and wonder if she may be in the backyard. I take a deep breath and make my way towards the back, hoping and praying she’ll be there.
I let out my breath as I find her sat on a chair admiring her garden. She looks content, but I’m not sure how long that will last with me here to spoil it all. She notices me in the corner of her eye and jumps, placing her hand on her heart.
“Ana, you scared me,” she says, letting out a small laugh. “I’m so glad you decided to come and visit. I felt terrible about yesterday and hope that you can forgive me. I didn’t mean—”
“Who’s Anabelle Thompson?” I interrupt her, not wanting to hear her bullshit.
Her eyes widen as she places her hand on her forehead. The name has definitely sparked a reaction. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”
I put my hand up to stop her again. “Please just tell me the truth for once in your life. You owe me that much, don’t you think?”
She sighs heavily like explaining will cause too much effort on her part. “She was my sister. I loved her dearly, but unfortunately, I also loved your father in a way that I shouldn’t have. He never returned my love, of course. He loved your mother too much, but I was infatuated, nonetheless.
Wait, what? This means Stella’s my aunt and not my mother?!
I’m rooted to the spot, processing this fact when she continues speaking.
“Before he went away, he made me promise him that I would care for you and bring you up if anything was ever to happen to him. I couldn’t break that, no matter what. I did try to give you a good life. I don’t know…” she trails off on a sigh. “Maybe you would have been better off being adopted by someone else who could have taken better care of you and given you a better life than the one I gave you.”
Unsteady on my feet, I reach out a shaky hand towards the nearest seat so I don’t fall while I try to process everything she’s just divulged. Stunned into silence, I stare off into space, unable to force my brain to speak. It is only when she tries to touch my hand that I flinch, pulling my hand back as I glare at her.
“Don’t touch me. You don’t understand what you’ve put me through. You have no idea of the shit I had to go through with Alan, do you? He was a monster. Why didn’t you ever see that? Did you know he visited my room and the vile things he did? Did you? He hurt me, and you were never there!”
Right now, in this moment, I feel years’ worth of rage, sorrow, and despair pouring out of me. For so long, I have kept it bottled up inside, not telling a soul of the pain I had to endure at the innocent age of twelve and thirteen. Sometimes I feel so rotten to the core about not telling anyone sooner. He could have been locked away, prevented from harming any of the other poor victims he may have decide to unleash his evil on.
The tears are threatening now, and my mum—if I can even call her that—looks a little taken aback. “I’m so sorry, Ana, I really am. But you never said anything. I thought you were happy. Alan seemed to dote on you, and for a while, I was happy enough to live with him for that reason.”
“I was thirteen. A child! He threatened to kill me—even kill you