Songs from Hell

Betrayal. Guilt. Depression. Stress. Fury. Name one negative emotion that Isla Padovesi hasn't felt. After going through the death of her loved Grandfather, Isla feels her father is a guilty traitor - to her. She believes he wants her to forget her Grandfather and, as she grows, their relationship shatters. She grows darker and colder to him. He seems to ignore her altogether. At least, till she finds out the truth behind his ignorace.


3. Chapter 2

Whenever I lashed out at him, my father never replied me. He would let me scream at me till I was out of breath. He had a tendency to ignore me – and I wanted answers. He deprived me of my right and left me to scream purposelessly.

When I got him yelling at Mom, he ignored me again.

Head fuming and throat parched, I stomped to my room and cursed my life as I laid on my bed. I should have cursed Dad, not my life, but I thought I might spare him that last bit of dignity. He hadn’t spared me much, but I could let him live with something.

At least fifteen minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. It was gentle and cautiously placed.

“Come in,” I said, lying on the bed with my eyes on the ceiling.

The door opened and I heard footsteps. The mattress sunk as Mom sat down beside me. Her face was dejected and red – with disappointment and guilt mingled in the pool of emotions she was holding back.

“Isla,” she began.

“What?” I spat. I was angry and she knew I was rude when I was angry.

She sighed, “Listen, Isla, don’t be mad at your father. He has a lot of burden on his shoulders, dear.”

I rolled my eyes till I couldn’t roll them any further.

“Burden? Mom, don’t even talk to me about his burden!” I screamed, specks of spit flying out of my mouth, “He doesn’t have any burden! He is a liar! A traitor! A low-life jerk!!”

Immediately, she grasped my forearm tightly, as if telling me I had said enough. As much I wanted to bark out a few more curses, I shut up, huffing angrily.

“Mom, why do you support him? After everything? After Grand - ?”

“Shush!” she cried, putting a finger to her lips and cutting my word off, “Isla, your grandfather is gone. It is not time to think about him.”

“Stop this!” I yelled, covering my ears with my hands indignantly, “Stop these lies, goddammit! I have had it! THIS IS ENOUGH!!”

Mom looked taken aback and her face was pulled into a sad fold of wrinkles. My heart didn’t soften and I just scoffed at her face.

“Tell me one thing, Mom. Why wasn’t I allowed to go to the funeral? Grandfather’s funeral?” I asked, my voice developing husky tones.

She twitched just the slightest and then proceeded to shake her head. “Isla, you were young. That’s why we kept you at home. We didn’t want you to – to see death at such a young age.”

I looked at her with furious eyes. “I am not a child anymore. These excuses don’t work now.”

Her mouth opened and stayed like that for a while. She knew she was lying. I couldn’t believe her. I resisted the urge to scream at her, but I was unable to stop myself from gritting my teeth.

“You hated Grandfather. Dad hated Grandfather,” I seethed, “And you wanted your hate to transfer to me and Jasper. You evil…”

I didn’t allow myself to finish my sentence but pointed my finger in my mother’s devastated face and ran out of the room. I ran out of the house and collapsed myself on the sidewalk, trying not to cry too loudly. It was getting dark and fewer people were there now. My face was buried in the sleeves of my cardigan as tears flowed and dampened the fabric continuously. I sat there for more than half an hour, crying and telling myself to stay calm.

Finally, I just closed my eyes and rested my head in my hands, trying to hold myself together.

“Hello there.”

I jumped at the greeting and hit a trashcan behind me. Looking up, I saw a tall stranger with a mop of wavy curls standing in front of me.

“Hello,” he repeated when I didn’t respond.

“H-hi,” I stuttered, quickly standing up and brushing myself.

“What are you doing here?” he went on.

He had a fluffy scarf in his neck and it hid the bottom half on his face. The darkness didn’t aid in clearing either.

“Relaxing,” I said almost at once.

“Well, it is not good to relax next to a trashcan,” he laughed, his tone deep and hoarse.

I tried to smile but there was a lump in my throat.

“Why were you crying?” he asked, pointing at my face.

I shrugged. “My… my pet just died,” I lied. Why on Earth did I need to tell a stranger about my family matters?

“Oh. I am sorry. What kind of creature was it?” the stranger said, bending his head slightly.

“A parrot,” I said.

“Oh, poor it! What was his name?” he asked sadly.

Her name. It was female. Her name was Pattie,” I said, sounding pretty depressed myself. I never even had the chance to get a parrot!

“R.I.P Pattie then,” the man said, nodding in understanding.

“Yeah,” I gulped, shoving my hands in my jeans pockets and turning to leave.

“Wait,” he stopped me, “I am Flynn, by the way.”

I nodded. “Isla,” I replied, “Nice to meet you, Flynn.”

“You too, Isla. Have a good night!”

I smiled and turned away, walking back home speedily. When I reached home, Jasper had left a note saying he had gone to have pizza with friends. Mom and Dad were nowhere in sight, either.

I groaned and threw myself on my bed, before falling in a disturbing sleep.

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