Chapter 44 - Part II

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Selfish Accusations and Even More Selfish Revelations


"How could you do this to mom?!" I exploded. He was taken aback, his face contorting into shock at my words. But he quickly regained his composure, his face turning into the ice mask it had been in the months after mom died.

"It's been five years, Catherine," he said, his voice distant and cold. "It's time we move on, especially you."

"Move on?!" I stated incredulously. "How can I move on, dad? You were the reason she died!"

"And how do you make that out?" dad raised his voice, his words unevenly rising with something close to panic.

"You were never there!" I found myself shouting as my vision grew blurry. I realised it was tears that clouded my eyes and choked my throat. I could feel my hands beginning to shake with all the years of pent up rage. "It was me who waited in the hospital every day! It was me who took care of mom! Where were you?! You ran away the moment they gave the prognosis! She needed you. I needed you! But you left us behind and ran away to hide behind your company. So yes, I blame you! It was something we both had to get through and you abandoned me! You just couldn't handle it, could you?"

"They tried everything. The brain damage was too severe. She wasn't going to wake up," dad's voice had suddenly quietened at my outburst. His eyes reflected a battle long forfeited. But that only made me angrier. How easy he had given up!

"Does that make you feel better about what you did?" my whole body started to shake at my accusation.

"What would you know?" dad's voice was unnervingly weak.

"I know that mom was in a stable condition. I know that it was only me who was there for her. Then suddenly you decided to show up and I wasn't allowed to visit her anymore. Then she suddenly died right after. You did something to her, dad. I know it!" I was barely keeping my voice together, barely keeping myself together as I allowed years of suspicion to finally surface.

"You want to blame me?" at my words, dad's face was slowly turning to anguish and a lividness I had never seen before. I immediately regretted voicing my suspicion. What was wrong with me? I just accused my own father of killing my mother. We've both experienced the same loss. There was no need to lose each other more than we already had.

I bowed my head, "Dad, I'm sor-."

"If it wasn't for you whining about stopping the car to play at the beach on the way back, your mother wouldn't have had to get into that car accident! And she wouldn't have ended up brain dead!"

His words felt like a bitter slap across the face. The shock and pain and hurt that sliced through me sent me stumbling a few steps back. Did I not know that already? Did I not suffer every single day through the memory of that wretched U-turn dad had made because of my incessant request that had sent the truck into the passenger side of the car where mom had been? Did the scene of what should have been- mom, dad and I at the beach, still as a whole family- not haunt me every day?

Dad's face immediately transformed into self-hate and sorrow at the truth he had said, "I'm sorry-"

"Brain dead?" I whispered. I could barely feel the tears running down my cheeks. My whole body was numb and shaking. "You told me she was in an induced coma. That she was just sleeping."

"She was," dad looked at me pleadingly and desperately to understand the pain he had went through.

"Then what happened?" my voice was barely an audible whisper.

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