Blanca Like Snow

Chapter 17 - Weirdo

        Another weeks goes by, which means I'm closer to getting my casts off and have a more normal life, all things considered. After five weeks since the accident, it still feels like it happened yesterday, but it's been more than a month. I've been living in the Dream House for a month, limping around, trying to help the best I can, hiding.

I'm relieved time is passing by fast, but I'm also very scared. No, anxious is a better word to describe how I feel. With each day we leave behind, we also get closer to the moment I have to come back and face whoever tried to get me killed, that person most likely being my stepmother.

I don't like Laura now, but at some point I did see her as a second mother. She's impossible to hate, charismatic, beautiful, sweet spoken and seemingly kind. I only discovered her true colours by accident, otherwise I would still believe she was a woman much in love with my father and who saw me as her own daughter.

Regardless whether I know the real person behind that perfect mask, it's still too hard to believe she could be the one who staged that accident, who wanted me dead. It makes me so wary knowing that if it's indeed her the one behind, I'll have to expose her.

The worst part isn't actually facing Laura, but having to accept she fooled my father, that he actually married someone like her. He would be the one who brought my killer to my life. I'm not sure how to handle that ugly truth.

Nora and Louise have no trouble picturing Laura behind the accident, they never really liked her, but it's so hard for me. I've always seen my father as perfect, invincible, strong, and knowing Laura fooled him so easily is too big of a blow to me. I don't want to feel the slightest disappointed in the hero of my life, the person I aim to become like.

I would really, really prefer anyone to be responsible over Laura.

Nora is really stressed lately, because there's no progress with the investigation. We lost the group of detectives that were working in parallel with the official team, and Louise hasn't hired anyone else because all private detectives can be persuaded with the right sum, and it means telling someone else I am indeed alive and well. If Louise hires someone, she can't tell them I'm hiding, which is very counterproductive.

My best friend is frustrated and nervous, angry at Laura, holding a big grudge even if we still have no proof it was her, the suspicions are too strong, so I can't really tell her how conflicted I feel about accusing Laura.

Every time the possibility is mentioned, I feel a jab through my heart, fear cooling my blood, anxiety suffocating me. And it piles up, day after day, so I feel like I'm going to explode. But if I don't tell Nora about it, I can't tell anyone else, which leaves me talking to the goats.

Literally.

Out of all the animals that there are in the Dream House, the goats are my favourite. They are just so cute and adorable, also very silly, which makes it super amusing to watch them.

Just as it happens with dogs, I feel I can say anything to the goats and they won't judge me. They won't probably understand what I am saying either, but just letting it out helps enormously, and it's easier to say it to someone who won't ask questions or will try to tell you how to fix it. Most of the times I don't seek for an advice or a solution, because I can take care of my problems or try, at least. Most of the time I just want to say it out loud, hearing it with my own ears and getting it out of my chest. Sometimes, just that helps enormously.

Currently, there are two adult goats and three baby ones, utterly adorable. I go see them to their corrals, where all the farm animals are kept during the day and carefully go inside. The baby goats already are familiar with me, as I escape to this place whenever I have a chance, and I always bring some treat for them. That's how I gained their trust. So when they spot me, they come running, looking for my hands. I laugh as Heidi, my favourite out of all the goats, starts poking me with her nose, trying to get me to open my left hand, the one pressed to my chest because of the cast... where normally I bring the treat.