If you asked her, Fiorella wouldn't be able to explain why she returned to her mother's house that weekend. It was an open secret that she wanted to be with her sister, but at that moment she was in her father's house. And Fiorella couldn't stand that woman, she had better things to do and the article that she had to deliver first thing in the morning on Monday wasn't going to be done alone. That's why it was difficult for her to understand the reason why she decided to stay... if there was any.
Her red pen was beginning to show signs of wear that morning as, leaning against the frame of the open front door, she went over in her notebook what she would type in the next day. Seeing her words in blue and the corrections in red gave her a strange peace, her pride was inflated by having proof of how much she had grown since the moment she left that same house four years ago.
But her presence on the porch wasn't due to the fact that she enjoyed writing standing against the doorway or wanted to wipe her lungs with the morning scent of dew mixed with rain, no. Her lovely mother had apparently forgotten her presence, despite the fact that they had been with each other for about fourteen hours, and slammed the half-full plate of her breakfast to the floor, just an inch from her feet. She was lucky that no piece hurt her, because there was no force on earth -especially when her sister wasn't around- that could avoid the blow she would have delivered. Unfortunately the sound of her cell phone saved her and she preferred to respond, anything was better than wasting time with her mother. And it had been for work, as always.
So there she was, filtering her bad mood with the half-worn red pen, performing one of her favorite tasks in life. The difficult was practically done now, and the corrections managed to ease her head. Anyone could tell that it was necessary to be focused when looking for two words to match perfectly. However, the tranquility wasn't going to last forever.
A car parked in front of her mother's land and she, more out of habit than necessity, stretched her left arm skyward so that the watch slid a few millimeters below her wrist, shifting her gaze to the hands that indicated it was seven past eleven in the morning. A tall man stepped out of the vehicle, whose forehead she couldn't recall ever seeing, with orange hair so dull it almost seemed brown combed to one side with the intention, she suspected, of hiding his entrances. She didn't have to be around to guess that his shirt was dirty, he had used those shorts since she was a kid -she knew it because she recognized the badly patched gash on one of his legs- and he was wearing flip-flops. A few years ago she had admired his laid-back style, only to be disappointed to discover that the only thing that guided him was excruciating laziness.
He awkwardly walked to the back door to open it and get the youngest out. The rough grip of him and the girl's stumbling strained her. Her eyes widened as she saw her stumble, the man only tightening his grip and lifting her higher by the arm to avoid a fall. She snapped her pen shut, thinking hoy easy it would be to use it as a weapon, right there, right into the vein in that animal's neck. The raindrops fell on her and he didn't care. A complaint came from her small lips when her foot crashing against the step of the house for not having a notice, and he didn't even hear it. She burned. Her eyes burned, her chest burned, and her hands burned.
"Are you kidding?!", she roared at having him close to her.
"Uhm?", her father barely glanced at her when he released her little sister in the middle of the porch, heading back to the car to go back for her things.
"Are you crazy?!", she yelled at him, unable to contain her gesture.
"Fior?", the younger called doubtfully.
The aforementioned had to pull her, murmuring a quick apology, protecting her in her arms with one hand on her back and the other on her head to prevent the savage they had as a father run over her with the increased weight of his speed and suitcases.
"Are you screwing me?!"
The man slowed down to look at her in surprise, slowly entering the house without taking his eyes off her.
"Watch your language in front of your sister."
That was the last straw.
"Watch my language?!" Fiorella had the decency to drive away the youngest away from her to avoid hurting her with her gestures by accident, following the man inside. "How about taking care of her damn well-being?"
"Fiorella, don't curse in this house!"
"I'll curse where I fucking want to, damn it!"
Thanks to their screams, her sister was able to follow them into the hall. Despite her contrite expression, she was so used to such displays from her family that she knew the best thing she could do was let them be and continue expectantly. Sadly, that was the quality they had in common.
"What is happening here?!"
Fiorella's weary expression was glorious. She had already dealt with her mother enough for the rest of her life to have to face her again now. But nothing, there was no problem. She would roll up her sleeves as many times as needed by her sister.
"Your idiot husband is what happens", she pointed at him with one hand.
"Oh, no", the accusing finger pointed at her. "No more. We're divorced."
Fiorella internally begged someone for patience, composing one of her favorite expressions.
"Look how much I care."
Her mother taking a sharp breath made her smile, but her satisfaction was short-lived at her father's action of rubbing his face wearily.
"For the love of God, Fiorella. What am I supposed I did now?"
"What 'what is supposed you-'?! You don't even know it?!" She was outraged, turning half her body toward the open door to extend an arm in that direction, fully aware that the small body was behind her, the small hands clutching the hem of her shirt. "It is raining!!"
"What about the rain?" The man crossed the hall to close the door. "It is just water."
"Oh, yeah? And are you going to remember that when your daughter has the flu and you have to pulls out of your money to buy her medicine or are you going to blame her for not remember you to use an umbrella when YOU VIOLENTLY YANKED HER OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR WITHOUT WARNING?"
"Fiorella", her mother wrinkled her nose in a warning tone.
"Is her staff also just a "piece of wood"?"
It was evident in the man's face that he had discovered his mistake.
"Gianna!" He shifted his gaze to the younger behind Fiorella, his sudden attention startling her. "Why didn't you remember me?"
"EXCUSE ME?!" The vein on her forehead poked. "She is blind, Joseph!! She has NINE YEARS blind! You can't take the fucking staff from her!"
"You just what?! Damn it, what the hell is wrong with you?!"
She took a deep breath to calm herself, glancing over her shoulder at the brunette who so fiercely protected from her own parents. She couldn't get mad at her, all the annoyance disappeared from her system as soon as she saw that little angel face. She shouldn't scream in her presence knowing how sensitive she was to sounds, but that couple lit the fuse in her veins and then there was no way to stop the explosion.
Okay, yes. There was only one way.
"If you didn't want the responsibility," she looked at them, more cold and serious than angry, "why did you even have children?"
The gentle pressure on her wrist was enough to bring the matter to a close. Fiorella slid her arm down until she could take the small hand and made the customary gesture before starting to walk to guide her into her room. She pushed any mess out of the way with a furious kick, not caring in the least unless it was some of the minor's belongings.
She left her in her safe place and sadly said goodbye to her. If she hadn't been called from work she would stay, but she had a delivery to make on time, and she lived on it so she could do what she was already about to accomplish.
Her cold calm seemed to ignite in ice as she closed the door to her beloved sister's room behind her, glaring at her parents.
"This can't go on", she warned them quietly. On her way to the door she picked up her backpack, looking away from them to put her notebook and her pen in the appropriate pocket. "I am going to sue you for negligence and I am going to take custody of her, I have a lot of material against you. I believe that I am sufficient evidence to win the trial. And I also have Lorraine's testimony, so...", she dropped her shoulders, looking back at them. "I'm going to make it legal. I suggest that you enjoy the last days of her with you, because I will also request a restraining order against you."
The couple were actually too shocked to speak, so Fiorella's walk to the door took place in sweet silence. Joseph, who was right in the middle, stumbled away from her, and she really cared little that it had started to rain seriously outside.
"I'm going to take her from here."
Along with that promise, a red tear shone on the girl's wrist, imperceptible under the cover of the watch. Had the accessory not been there, perhaps someone would have noticed it. Maybe not. What was really certain was that this couple never heard another word from their eldest daughter. They didn't see her again. And after that night, they didn't find her youngest daughter either. They had both disappeared without leaving any clues. And worst of all, her parents didn't do much to get them back.
Merci pour la lecture!