Dear Tressi [✓]

38

"What are you talking about?" Tressi asked, totally lost. "How's Vil blackmailing you using me?"

Dala's eyes shone with tears in the yellow light. "I never wanted this for you, Tressi. This is why I hoped you'd sell the house and leave. I never wanted anything tying you to this place. I wanted you as far away as possible. That's why I went to Minty, to make sure you were safe, to make sure Vil hadn't tracked you there, but I couldn't find you. And all this while, you were here! It was my worst nightmare!"

Tressi couldn't understand anything that Dala said. This was nothing like what she'd imagined. It was frustrating to hear her mother talk in riddles, but she knew she had to be patient. Pressuring her would have the opposite effect. So, Tressi drew on her years of practice of being patient; she calmed herself down and spoke in an even tone, "Mom, I know you're scared. But I'm not a child anymore. I can take it, whatever it is. Just tell me."

As she tried to reason with her mother, she realised how hard it must have been for Des all this while. She must have driven him crazy with her reluctance and secrets. It must take endless patience.

Tressi waited, trying not to push her. Maybe Dala agreed with Tressi. Maybe she realised that keeping her daughter in the dark just wasn't an option anymore. Whatever the reason, she finally spoke, "You've... always had... issues, Tressi."

"What kind of issues?" Tressi's brows puckered together in the middle.

Dala looked away. It seemed as if every word she spoke caused her physical pain. "Do you remember your father's death?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yes."

"What do you remember from that day?"

"Why are we talking about this now?"

"Just answer me, please."

Tressi leaned back on her stool, rubbing her hand across her forehead. "I got into a fight at school. You and Edda were gone. Dad picked me up. He was angry. We went to the site. He got in the crane, it malfunctioned and it crashed."

Dala made a sound, as if she tried stifling a sob. "It wasn't a malfunction," her mother whispered.

"What?" Tressi asked sharply.

"You pulled the lever that released the platform he was standing on," Dala said, covering her face with her hands.

"No!" Tressi shouted. "That did not happen."

It didn't. It just didn't. Her mother was a liar. Just as she was beginning to think the woman actually cared, she showed her true colours—an emotionally manipulative, deceitful shrew. Her heartbeat rang in her ears and she saw red. How dare she?

"It did," her mother insisted. "There was a security guard who'd seen you. When I came to know about it, I had to bribe him to make sure he wouldn't say anything."

Tressi's head swam as she tried to focus on what her mother was saying.

"But, Tressi. Listen to me," Dala begged, moving closer. Taking her daughter's hands in her own, she said with her voice firm, "It was not your fault. You were just a child. You didn't know what you were doing. You were just angry and you didn't realise the consequences."

Tressi pulled her hands away from her mother's grip. She didn't want to listen to this. This poison that her mother spewed, would suck her back into the depths of hell that she'd worked so hard to crawl out of. What she said just couldn't be true.

"How do I not remember this then?" she asked her mother.

Her voice was more calm than she felt. Because, if she'd learnt anything from Des, it was that, logic and reasoning always triumphed over emotions. If she remained pragmatic, she would be able to find her way out of this dark nightmare.

"Because, you repressed it. Once your father was gone, you went into a shell, Tressi. You were catatonic. You wouldn't move, you wouldn't speak. You didn't acknowledge anything anybody said. So I had to take you to a doctor. I couldn't tell him what had happened, but I just told him that your father had died. He wasn't able to make a definitive diagnosis, but he said you were in shock and you needed to be medicated. So that's what I had to do."

"You medicated me without a diagnosis?!" Tressi asked, shell shocked. "What sort of quack did you take me to? How do I not remember any of this?"

The rage she could feel pumping through her veins knocked the wind out of her. She could feel her face flush as blood rushed to it.

Dala looked miserable. The pool of tears, that had remained carefully controlled, now ran freely down her cheeks. "I didn't know what to do!" she moaned. Grabbing her hair by the roots, she looked quite deranged. "I was all alone, Tressi! I didn't know! I was desperate. I would have tried anything! Anything! But it worked. The medication worked. You snapped out of it and didn't remember what had happened. So if the price for a normal childhood was a couple of pills a day, how could I say no? I tried my best, Tressi. I really did,." Her voice broke and she sobbed into her hands—a pathetic spectacle.

"Normal childhood? You would dare call it a normal childhood?!" Tressi couldn't believe the audacity.

Dala didn't look up. Her tears fell, thick and fast at Tressi's feet; it burned her skin as it came in contact.

"It was the best I could do," she murmured. "I'd already lost my husband. I didn't want to lose my daughter too."

"You lost me ages ago! We never had a relationship!"

"I had to keep my distance, Tressi. I didn't want to make you remember. I avoided all contact with you as much as possible because I was so terrified of saying the wrong thing and making you remember. That's why I sent you off to a boarding school, as soon as you were a bit older. I always wanted you away from this place; away from anything that might bring back the memories," she said, in a strangled voice. "I didn't want to do anything that might stop the pills from working."

"What pills?" Tressi asked, throwing her hands up in the air. "I never took anything!"

But even as she said it, she knew that wasn't true. There was only one thing that her mother had ever insisted on—Tressi taking the vitamins everyday.

"You told me those were vitamin supplements," Tressi said, horrified.

Lies and more lies—the summation of Tressi's childhood.

Neither of them spoke after that. Tressi sat in that musty, claustrophobic storage room, trying to come to terms with everything. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't wrap her head around it all.

"Is this what Vil is blackmailing you with?" Tressi asked, completely numb. Nothing would surprise her anymore.

But she'd spoken too soon, for Dala said, "No. Nobody's ever known about this."

"Then what is the problem?"

Dala didn't reply. She remained prostrate at her daughter's feet.

"THEN WHAT IS THE PROBLEM?" Tressi screamed, her voice shooting up three octaves.

Dala jumped at the sudden sound and looked up, terrified. "Tressi, please! I'm begging you. Please leave this place. Please go back to your life. You have a husband. Your life is normal now. Please don't do this," she pleaded, sounding desperate.

Tressi didn't understand why her mother looked more wretched than ever. What could be so terrible? She already told her that she was responsible for her father's death. What could possibly be worse than that?

Then her blood ran cold. She knew. She knew what could be more terrible. The realisation chilled her to her core.

"You think I killed Edda."