Strangling Vines

Chapter 5: Lovesick, and I Hate You For It

Isabela lied awake staring vacantly at the wall as her family and the Sandrias’ prepared breakfast, repeating the dreadful encounter with Maya in her head, mind filled with humiliation and body filled with aches from the blossoms that inhabited her. That single geranium only led to a pile of the same flower along with others crumpled in her hands then traveled to the trash. Her chest breathed with pain that ranged from stinging to dull while the small branches expanded, it was a miracle that her lungs hadn’t collapsed to their weight yet. Heavy tears drowned her eyes when she returned to her room, silent cries that were painfully aware of the position they were in.

She remembered the stunned expression on the woman’s face, the suspecting but horrified look in her eyes, the distressing knowledge that neither of them could hide. 

Isabela was ill and Maya was the direct cause. 

This made her despair become laced with anger. 

Dose she even care that I am slowly dying because of her? 

Why is she doing this to me? 

  

She knew it was unfair to resent her, the disease simply came from her deep admiration not from a deliberate scheme from Maya herself. Knowing that didn’t make her any less bitter, there was that emotional roller coaster again. Wanting so badly to be held by her but feeling sick at the thought of seeing her face, wanting to run her fingers through her curls but wishing she could just rip them out from anger, desiring to kiss her face and whisper confessions to her but wanting to curse her name and never talk to her again. She was filled with regretful desire, being lovesick towards someone felt so wrong, especially love for another woman. 

  

But she did not want to lose her again, she couldn’t 

  

The door creaked open, and her heart jumped, not wanting to face whoever was on the other side. Preparing to pretend to be asleep, her worries were reassured by a nurturing voice,  

  

“Buenas mañana mija.”    

Her mother greeted softly; she sat up trying not to wince at the pain in her chest. 

  

Julieta gently sat a plate of food and coffee on her bedside table and smiled at her eldest daughter. 

“I heard that you had a rough night, how are you feeling now?”    

She questioned, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

  

Isabela preyed that her mother was just referring to the coughing fit, she trusted her sisters and Maya to keep her illness hidden as much as possible but fear easily makes people slip up. Suffocating branches and flowers was not something that could be hidden in the shadows for long. 

  

“I’m still feeling sick, but I think I’ll get past it soon. My chest doesn’t hurt as much.”  

  

Oh, what a lie that was. 

Julieta and Agustin were the two she lied to the most aside from Alma. Leaving them to feel like their daughter was a mere stranger rather than their first born. She lied about who and what she liked, lied about who she was for so long even she forgot at times. Being her parents, they knew this but could not do anything to make Isabela be truthful about anything whatsoever, and there she was, lying again.