Chapter 105 – The Family (6)
Isabella’s uneventful days went on and on,
If there was something I liked about her, it was that Lucia and Mason started coming over often. Two or three times a week, sometimes every day.
Isabella liked it very much.
When they came, we played, as usual, playing the family house, playing hide-and-seek, and so on. Isabella’s favorite games, of course, were family playhouses.
They hang out every day and look good to anyone who sees them. When they played late, Lucia and Mason’s mother, or her father, who came to pick them up, would smile brightly and talk about how they were like real sisters.
Isabella hated her sister’s parents.
The love of her father and her mother, which she hoped to earn.
It was an act that could not escape from the modest follow-up of family play, but through it, she filled the world with her impure satisfaction.
When playing with them, she could be kept in a safe cage. She had never felt the love of her family, so she was able to satisfy her greed just by gently imitating it.
To her, the parents of the two were like sharp needles.
As she paints her only true smile, she laughs at the moment when her comfort may be submerged in her immediate enticing pleasure, fearing that her sister will notice her shady and subservient desires. Falling beings.
That’s why Isabella couldn’t welcome them.
But at the same time, nonetheless, she secretly looked up to them.
Even when she is having endless fun with her sisters, sometimes her housekeeper knocks on her door and opens the door-
Lucia’s eyes widened in response to the sound, no matter what toy she put in their hands or what kind of play they were playing, and she swung back to her door, ready to put a smile on her lips. .
Because they realized that they were loved by her differently than she was, the misery of her was indescribable.
She used her shyness as a shield to ward off her secret resentment and her hatred for her sisters’ parents, refusing to speak to them.
So Isabella waited for her sister’s day. Like the day they promised to come, or like luck that suddenly appears one day, she waits only for their visit.
So, about two years have passed.
The relationship between mother and father did not improve.
My mother now tipped the bottle every day, and my father, as usual, was just consistent with indifference.
Isabella is six years old.
Although she was young, she couldn’t hide her cleverness. Her beautiful appearance, her status as the daughter of a village landowner, and her outstanding talent drew praise from everyone.
But even so, Isabella couldn’t be happy.
Suddenly, her mother started drinking every day. As if she had finally given up the role of her beautiful hostess at her father’s side, her days were usually spent more drunken than sober.
My father didn’t seem interested. Before she knew it, she did not return home, taking care of lodging and lodging in the city for her business. The only thing the mother and daughter left behind in her mansion could hear was a letter addressed to Isabella.
He never sent a letter to his mother.
She grew up riding in the hands of servants amid her parents’ indifference and indifference.
She learned the letters quickly. It was to read the letters her father sent her and to reply to them.
Her servants who taught her admired her speed of learning and praised her.
Isabella was not happy.
Her writings did not reach her father, and did not resonate with her mother in her agony in her heartburn and dizziness.
Her unsent letters continued to pile up.
This he wouldn’t want his father to hear.
We’d better leave out the story about her mother.
Cut and cut letters continued to be cut, as if mocking little Isabella’s best.
Until it is filled with sentences closer to the purpose of seeking a report or confirmation rather than a letter.
Still, she continued to send letters.
As such a life continued, she calmly accepted the fact that she had vaguely guessed.
Her family was ruined, and her parents didn’t even try to hide it.
Isabella was dismayed by that fact. No matter what she did, she couldn’t have parents like Mason and Sianna. For her parents, who suffered through a broken marriage, Isabella’s existence was a trap. A bear trap that burrows deeper into her flesh the more she tries to escape.
Why is she broken.
Since I was born
Before I was born?
It was a question that could not be answered by thinking about it.
Around her time, she reduced the number of her letters to her father.
She was too young to continue pouring water into a bottomless dock without hope.
The steps to visit her mother were also reduced. Although she had fewer opportunities to meet her since her health deteriorated in the first place.
Like that, it was only her sister’s visit that sustained her life.
I’m rather glad
Six-year-old Isabella thought so.
Lucia was envious of her toys, sometimes her clothes, sometimes her house. Lucia’s envy bolstered her self-esteem a little.
Also, the fact that Lucia and Mason did not know the details of her circumstances also played a part.
In front of them, she was equal and harmless. No need to notice, just as the heart told, laughing, chatting, and having fun.
One summer day at the age of six.
Mrs. Adelaide called for Isabella.
By this time, Isabella had grown accustomed to life without her mother, and she felt awkward knocking on her door.
“… Come in.”
It was a difficult voice. She opened the door and entered.
And from the room she entered through the door, a foul smell wafted from her nostrils. Rather than an unpleasant stench, it was a repulsive smell that evoked fear.
On the bed was her mother.
It was not at first glance that she recognized her as a mother. Since this was her room and her bed, she could only guess that the skinny woman lying there was her mother.
“… Bella.”
Hoarse voice.
“… Mother?”
Isabella, unsure of her own guess, asked her questions, but her mother seemed to understand differently.
“… Come and sit down here. Our daughter.”
She lifted her trembling hand with difficulty and pointed to the small chair next to her bed.
As she approached her mother and sat down in her chair, she had to face her mother’s face even closer.
Shaded eyes. The skin, obviously darkened, had lost its previous elasticity and had changed as if it had been covered with skin.
For a moment, the emotion that bloomed in Isabella’s heart was disgust.
It was too grotesque for her to see at her young age.
But when her mother reached out with a trembling hand to hers, Isabella reluctantly took hers.
“… Bella. Our daughter.”
Isabella looked her in the eyes.
There was a set amount of wrinkles that could not be stretched during this time of normal years, but they didn’t loosen up like they did when she drank.
It was quite a surprise to Isabella. Her mother had never called herself Bella in her sober mind.
“…”
She stayed by her mother’s side without saying anything. It was because she had the feeling that even if she didn’t talk, she wouldn’t mind.
“… How have you been?”
How are you? It was a harsh question to ask a six-year-old in the midst of her mother’s neglect and her father’s indifference. She didn’t have the chin to get along.
“How have you been doing.”
But Isabella’s reply was so docile and quiet that it was hard to believe that she was six years old. Her mother hesitated for a moment, then answered in a weak voice.
“… Okay.”
And, there was a bit of meaningless Q&A. Even when Isabella was there, she couldn’t understand why her mother had called her. She had been so long she had neglected herself, so suddenly.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t stupid enough to not understand this. It was a curse that she was smarter and more sensitive than her peers.
However, even if she was ahead of her peers, it was unreasonable to expect her to be like an adult at heart. She was dissatisfied. And that dissatisfaction was urging her to keep her distance from her mother.
That’s why this dull conversation couldn’t last long.
Soon, her mother must have noticed this too, and she stopped throwing her hwadu with difficulty and spat out one of her small words toward her.
“… Poor thing.”
Her words shook her. She didn’t even know why she rocked her. The dictionary meaning contained in the words is powerful, and sometimes it made the person who gave the shock first attach a reason.
“…”
Isabella stiffened at her mother’s ‘poor thing’. But her mother didn’t seem to notice, and she went on with her words.
“… I’m sorry. He is my child.”
She didn’t explain what she was sorry for.
And so, the conversation that suddenly started one summer day ended.
Leaving her room and about to go back, she glanced up at her and looked out the window of her mother’s room.
White clouds were gathering in the sky.
The next day, the rainy season of the year began.
A day when it rained incessantly.
Her mother died
