Pretty lies

twenty- we will see you soon

Isadora Rose:

"Holy shit."

No, no, no. This can't be happening to me. She wouldn't do this. I must be dreaming- not dreaming. I would never dream of this shit.

I want to cry, scream, throw shit around ,but I don't move a muscle. This is impossible. This can't be fucking happening. 

In the velvet box laid a bloody image of a face I knew all too well. My mother.

She lays on a dirty sheet covered in dried up blood. Her olive complexion is pale and bleak. Her body limp and frail.

My shaking hand reaches for the photo and I latch onto it. I hated my mother for what she did to me. She ruined me in so many ways, part of her at least. The other part loved and cared for me. That woman held me when I wept and was there when I needed her.

It is the loving woman I see in the photo. Why the fuck would abuela want me to have this?

I look down to see back into the box and see a letter, sealed with a red wax. The paper is perfectly laid, flat and without a single crease. It was as if the paper was made for this exact moment.

Tears drop onto the page, soaking through. Fragments of sentences age revealed due to the droplets but I don't dare look at them.

I remove the wax seal as my fingers carefully open the letter. The words come into view and they are ones I will never forget for as long as I live.

My dearest Isadora,

You are the light of my life ; my dark, dark life. I have always seen you as a younger version of myself. You display much courage and stability ,which I admire. But just like me, you are weakened by those around you. People have wronged you in ways you will never understand. I understand.

Life is to be treasured and used wisely. Your mother never listens to these words and I pity her for that. It inevitably killed her. I killed her. She was my daughter but I never saw her as such. She was an asset, if you will. I don't mean to sound so harsh but, times are hard so we must be harsh.

I won't drag on to much so I will cut to the chase. My father was a business man of sorts. He pursued a darker business. Some call us the mafia or the mob. It's the same shit. Our business is a hierarchy, a kingdom and it needs a Doña. That must be you.

This life is yours by blood, deny it and you will face the consequences of your actions. I wished and prayed for you to be taken away from this life but it could not be changed. I am so sorry mi amor but this has to happen. We will see you soon.

-abuela

I sit in silence on my bedroom floor, my mouth agape. What the actual fuck did I just read?

First of all, what the fuck is she talking about? A mafia. Are you shitting me? This can't be happening to me right now. I'm thinking of both abuela and The Godfather in a completely different light.

I wish I could say I had a million thoughts but I don't. There's nothing really ,except for questions that will never be answered.

Secondly, who the fuck is we? We will see you soon. It's not her unless she's secretly Casper the ghost. She's dead. I know she is I saw-

I didn't see the body.

She always said that she wanted an open casket funeral so that everyone could bask in her presence one last time. So why was it closed? Now there are a few more fucking thoughts.