— "What is it like?.." she quietly asked her mother.
— "Hm?" The woman looked at her with confusion.
Lucy was silent for a moment, then lifted her chin, wet with tears.
— "What is it, Lucy?"
— "M...," she hesitated for a moment. "I was wondering...," Lucy looked at her mother with earnest, vulnerable eyes, "how to deal with feelings. How do I know which feelings are right...and what if...," Lucy avoided her mother's eyes. She froze for a second, as if she had forgotten all her words.
— "What if...if they hurt me? What if I'm not sure they're right for me?" Her mom listened carefully, trying to understand her daughter's struggle.
— "I don't want them, Mom...I don't want them to hurt me." She looked at her mother with honesty, her eyes sparkling with a glimpse of pity. Then both of them went quiet for a while. Despite the awkwardness her mother felt, empathy engulfed her.
— "Lucy...," she started, her voice hoarse, "I'm not the right person to ask...but...," the woman paused for a moment, swallowing the saliva gathered in her dry mouth, "but I know perfectly well that you don't need to understand your feelings." Lucy was so focused on her words that she couldn't look away.
— "There is no obligation to know which feelings are good and which are bad," she continued smoothly, her words flowing. "You just have to follow them, Lucy," the grieving mother looked at her with sorrowful eyes. "Every feeling is a feeling...," she stopped, then continued again, "that makes you human."
Lucy didn't know how to react. Her heart was aching, yet still beating. With every word from her mother, it couldn't stop. She was confused and, at the same time, relieved.
— "Mom?" Lucy's face showed unanswered questions. "What did you mean...," the woman waited for the question with deep interest. "What did you mean by saying you're not the right person?..." The question sounded so loud it rang sharply in the woman's mind.
Her mother exhaled heavily, as if preparing for an important speech.
— "There are things I kept secret from you...," she tried to express tenderness and care, but all Lucy felt in that moment were grudge and despair.
— "Things...for certain reasons, for your sake...your safety." Her speech stalled so much that Lucy ran out of patience.
— "Just tell me! What is it?"
Her mother took a deep breath, filling her lungs so she could speak without pausing.
— "Your father didn't die...," she said as bravely as possible, then immediately fell silent.
— "What?" Lucy looked at her, disbelief and confusion all over her face.
— "Well...the man I was married to died...," her mother continued, sitting next her, "but...," there was a long pause, during which tension thickened the air.
Lucy froze, waiting for the final words.
— "But it wasn't your father, Lucy...," her mother's voice trembled, as if revealing the darkest secret. At that moment, she didn't dare look at her only child.
Lucy's face turned red with anger. She was taken aback, unsure how to react. Despite her silent contempt, a storm of emotions boiled inside her—confusion, dread, fear, desperation, embarrassment—but most of all, hatred.
— "What are you talking about?"
The woman noticed her daughter's bitter expression.
— "Seventeen years ago...," she began with a tender but steady voice, "your father, my brother, was suffering from a rare illness..." Lucy sat silently, listening carefully.
— "No healers or herbal doctors could help him...," the woman's eyes filled with pain. "It was something unusual...unknown. No one understood what sin plagued him...," she paused as her voice cracked.
— "He was so desperate... I remember his fading joyfulness...he was literally losing his sense of life..." She couldn't keep her voice steady anymore. Her pupils trembled with a strange fear.
— "I wasn't recognizing him at all. Then...," she continued with difficulty, "then he approached a woman—an old woman...very old..."
Lucy looked at her with interest.
— "A woman who was very strange...," her mother stumbled for a second. "According to the locals who saw her, she wore black attire with a hood, and more than that...there was a massive cross hanging around her neck..." Lucy looked at her mother in surprise, unable to respond.
— "I never knew how he met her...I still don't understand why he sought her out...," she said, lost in thought. "But I know he was desperate for help—the kind I couldn't give him," her voice grew weaker. "The kind no one could give him...not even that woman..." She stopped, unwilling to go on.
— "Mom?" Lucy interrupted her thoughts. "What happened?" she asked carefully, her curiosity growing.
Her mother drew a shaking breath and continued:
— "After visiting the lady for several days...your father became different. Absolutely different." The daughter looked at her mother with honest interest.
— "He just lost his temper and...and...he went mad..." The woman gulped, trying to wet her dry throat. "My brother...he...he even tried to hurt you..." She looked at Lucy as if looking at a small child she was trying to protect.
— "He didn't know what he was doing. One night—the night that everything changed—your father came home after visiting that strange lady...." Her face grew dark as she sank deeper into the story.
— "And...he was completely mad. He was no longer the person I knew, nor the father of my child. When I was sleeping, he suddenly grabbed you from your bed—I heard your crying..." Lucy couldn't take her eyes off her mother, desperate to learn the truth.
— "I came for you, Lucy...and I saw..." There was a long silence in which every breath seemed to stop. "I saw his hideous hands...the hands of a sinful man. His fingers were darkly black, Lucy... That's when I knew he couldn't be saved..."
In that moment, Lucy couldn't move or speak—she could only gasp for air.
— "I froze, standing there, unable to do anything. And when I regained my senses, he was already gone...gone with you..." The mother's words carried guilt, every one of them accusing herself.
— "I ran outside immediately, but there was no one. Suddenly, I heard your crying..." The woman's eyes grew wetter with every word.
— "I don't know...," her voice trembled, "I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't heard your voice..." She looked at Lucy, her eyes blurred with tears that rolled down her cheeks.
— "Your voice came from the lake...," she continued. "And when I got there..."
Lucy could no longer contain her emotions. Her memories blurred, her thoughts tangled into a single mass of pain.
— "When I reached the lake...he was pulling you into the water," the woman sobbed, her face soaked with tears. "He was trying to drown you...." Her words were barely audible, swallowed by grief.
Instinctively, the girl cuddled up to her mother, who was curled and trembling from cold. She hugged her tightly, trying to give her all the warmth she had trying to stop the struggle. The pain her mother felt became her own.
It was hard for them to part, but when the mother calmed a little, she looked at Lucy and went on:
— "I screamed so much...so much, hoping someone would hear. I screamed as loud as I could...until finally a man arrived. He saw me hysterical, crying, and understood what was happening." Lucy listened intently.
— "He helped us—both you and me. He shouted at your father and pulled you away. Your father grew frightened...and disappeared, as if he had never been there..." She paused to gather herself.
— "You were only four, Lucy..."
The girl couldn't believe her ears. She was speechless. She couldn't even imagine her father doing such a thing. Why would he? The thoughts tormented her, twisting into countless unanswered questions.
— "That day I knew he didn't deserve us—neither you, nor me," her mother said, her voice carrying the worries buried for so many years. "That's when I decided it would be better for you to have a father who could take care of you."
— "So...," Lucy's voice trembled with fear, "so my biological father...ran away many years ago...? And...," she added, confused, "the man who died...wasn't my father?" She could barely say it with certainty.
Her mother looked at her with understanding, concern softening her face. She was about to explain when Lucy said:
"Mom...I don't care..." Her voice was calm.
Her mother's expression shifted into confusion.
— "I don't care who my biological father was...because my real father is the one who cared for me. He raised me, mom." The pity in her eyes revealed the true meaning of parenthood—what her mother had always tried to reach.
A faint, weak smile spread across the woman's face. Her thoughts were finally affirmed, and she felt a sense of relief.
— "It's so confusing...," Lucy admitted, "but mom, I'm glad you told me..." Her hands rested gently on her mother's palms, where warmth and happiness quietly lived.
Next day she set out for the lonely shore of the lake, where she could put her thoughts in order.
I am really tried, she thought about yesterday. She frowned at the water, where her unhappy face reflected back at her.
— "I don't feel any relief at all, damn it!" She suddenly clapped her hands against the water, scattering her miserable reflection.
At that moment, a tall, heavy-built man was walking along the path. He was dressed unusually formally, all in black. His indifferent face showed signs of exhaustion.
The girl's cries and the splashing water caught his attention. Hearing her lament, he unwillingly stopped and walked toward her. Not coming too close, he asked, just to make her notice him:
—"Excuse me?"