IRIS
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I woke up to the sound of the doorbell..
I had a good dream.. and it was beautiful..
Who the hell is knocking at the door this early in the morning. I quickly threw myself out of bed and walked towards the bedroom door.
I can't open my eyes.
Wait, where is the door?
Right, it was downstairs.
Someone was knocking furiously on the door. It made me so angry that I wanted to hurl every kind of insult at their face the second I opened it.
But I changed my mind.
* Iris, my dear, were you still asleep?
My aunt looked at me with a helpless expression.
She didn't give me a chance to answer; her expression shifted as she continued.
* I am so sorry, but you have to come with me to the airport today. Today is the day my precious daughter, Alma, comes back.
Her eyes lit up at the last moment when she mentioned Alma.
Wait! Alma is coming back?
No! Please, let that not be true.
* Me? Come with you?
I pointed at myself.
I was barely keeping my eyes open.
* Yes, my dear, you have to come. Logan's schedule is packed, and you know I can't drive. I also can't take Maxon with me because he'll be with Logan all day.
Can I say no?
I know I can't.
If Alma is truly coming back here, I won't be able to hide from her anymore.
* Iris, I am waiting for your answer. You are coming, right?
Her eyes were pleading for my answer to be yes.
* Yes, I will come.
What else could I do?
She asked me for such a simple favor for once; how could I say no?
She has done so much for me.
And this is such a small thing.
* Excellent.
Be ready at 2 o'clock; we will take my car.
I am heading to the company now, I have work to do.
She walked away.
From a distance, she raised her hand to wave goodbye, and I did the same.
I closed the door.
I went and sat on the sofa.
My thoughts began to spiral.
Alma is coming back for good!?
What do I do? How am I supposed to act around her?
Alma is my cousin. She has been studying abroad for four years.
Whenever my aunt brought up Alma, I would quickly change the subject.
She had returned here a few times before, but I always made myself scarce or found some excuse to be busy just so I wouldn't have to face her. Since her house is directly attached to mine, my aunt would scold me if I stayed home and didn't go see her. Fortunately, I always managed to slip away.
It wasn't because I hated her, but rather because...
I love her.
Love is dirtier than hate.
I just don't know... I don't know anything anymore..
I took a deep breath, running a hand through my messy bangs to push them back.
I am five years older than Alma.
Up until the age of seventeen, in an organization
I grew up.
It was a chaotic faction. They forced us—myself and the other children—to commit atrocities: stealing, lying, looting, smuggling drugs, assassinating people, and so much more... I grew up alongside them. I was born right there, the daughter of one of the gang members. But my mother passed away immediately after giving birth to me. I still don't know if that story is true or a lie, but that was what an elder in the gang told me..
Once I was old enough to comprehend things, to distinguish right from wrong, I realized that what we were doing was evil. I wanted to leave them, but it was incredibly difficult for me because I had grown up with them; they were my family. Besides, anyone who tried to leave the gang would undoubtedly be killed. When I confided in my friends that our actions were wrong, some agreed with me, while others simply dismissed me as foolish. When the gang leader caught wind of this, he summoned me to his room and ordered me to stop poisoning their minds and swaying them with my words. But I refused to comply. I openly
defied him.
When I was seventeen, my aunt, Camelia Ashford, rescued me from that place, alongside her husband, Logan Ashford. I will owe them my life until the day I die. They bought my freedom for a massive sum of money. Such a transaction was unheard of among the crime syndicates, gangs, and mafias of that time.. Yet, the leader of the organization was surprisingly cooperative.. Almost as if he was eager to get rid of me.
But ultimately, it was for the best.
My aunt previously knew my mother's whereabouts and was aware that she had entangled herself in this dirty business. She mentioned that they used to see each other occasionally, but later, the organization left this area and relocated their base to Henderson. The day before my mother left, she came to bid my aunt farewell and revealed that she was pregnant with me. According to my aunt, she tried desperately to find out the name of the man my mother was involved with, but my mother refused to tell her. After several years without hearing any news from my mother, my aunt decided to search for her. She looked all over Las Vegas, Henderson, and several surrounding towns and districts, but to no avail. She eventually gave up. However, years later, she had a dream about my mother, which prompted her to resume the search. After extensive digging, she finally located the gang. My aunt came with the hope of reuniting with my mother, but upon discovering that she had died giving birth to me, she was utterly devastated. She blamed herself immensely—and still does to this day. She always says she should have stopped her from getting involved in such abhorrent activities.
But she has no reason to blame herself. I don't know why my mother joined that gang, but there must have been a reason for it
And I will never know it.
That is where everything started.
When I first arrived at their house, I was in absolute shock. I had only ever seen mansions like that in Hollywood movies.
At first, I would shamelessly try to steal things from inside that massive house!
What else would you expect from a street child?
My aunt gently told me, "You live here now. Everything in this house is yours; you don't need to steal anymore.."
The phrase, 'Everything in this house is yours!'
I don't know why, but involuntarily, my gaze shifted,
to the little Alma standing in front of me. She was only twelve years old at the time, and I asked myself: Is she mine too?
Alma was stunningly beautiful. She had short hair that rested just above her shoulders, styled with bangs that suited her perfectly. Her eyes were wide and almond-shaped, framed by impeccably full eyebrows and remarkably long eyelashes. Her irises were a light brown, almost resembling the color of honey. She had slightly tanned skin, and her short, sleek hair made her breathtakingly gorgeous
It perfectly complemented the color of her eyes.
A fragile, tiny girl.
She captured my heart instantly. At first, she would only observe me from a distance, perhaps waiting for me to make the first move, or maybe she was just naturally shy.
But later, as we formed a bond, it became apparent that she was incredibly hyperactive—let's just say she had a bit of a "pick-me" attitude. Then again, if I were the only child of a wealthy household, I probably would have been the exact same way.
She was overjoyed that I was living with them because she didn't have any siblings. She constantly begged me to play dolls with her, but I was far too old for that. I had no interest in those kinds of games.
She was such a crybaby. So incredibly fragile.
I remember one time she accidentally stepped on an ant and killed it. She cried over it for two whole days and even held a funeral for the poor bug. I was forced to go and console her, but she got furious with me because I wasn't crying over the ant, so I literally had to force myself to fake cry.
I just craved her proximity, regardless of who she was or her age.
None of that changes the fact that it had to be 'her'.
One night, she begged me to watch Titanic with her. We watched it in her room. I had already seen it before, but I sat through it again just for her.
After the movie finished, she demanded that we play "Jack and Rose." Obviously, no such game existed; she had just invented it on the spot. What she meant was that she wanted us to act out the scenes from the film. I flat-out told her, 'I'm not doing that, I'm going to sleep.'
But she grabbed onto me tightly. She whined and complained so loudly that I had to clamp my hand over her mouth so her voice wouldn't carry to the other rooms.
It took everything in me to control myself and not smack her.
Finally, I muttered to myself, 'I'll just act out this damn role for her and then go to sleep.'
If only it had stayed as just that damn role!
I was supposed to be her older sister, not something else entirely!
I should have guided her down the right, healthy path, instead of being her enabler.
But, as they always say: fate had already sealed my destiny.
Empty words.
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