Heirs Of Passion

It was a rainy day with a terrible traffic. It seemed like the entire world was filled with so much energy, and the bustling sounds of people trying to get to their destination was at an all-time high.

I sat inside an Uber ride, as it was the most convenient mode of transportation in this part of the country.

Dressed in black, I look up to my aunt, a petite and beautiful woman – I always loved to think my family was blessed with one of the greatest genes ever – as she sat wound up beside me in the car.

She had a very solemn look on her face and was putting on a set of black shades with a feathery hat and a long fitted black dress.

Two weeks ago, my parents went on a trip and dropped me at her place. She was not particularly wealthy, but she was the only family I knew while growing up. Two days later, people started to gather at the house, giving me pitiful looks.

I pretended that all was well, and refused to think of the implication of all the words they muttered to themselves in their hushed tones.

I asked my aunt a week later about my parents, but received a blank stare. It felt like she became a living ghost and all that was left of her was just a working shell.

The only interaction she had with me after the day I asked her the question came 5 days later, when she told me we were going somewhere. At that point, I already learned the act of keeping to myself when that kind of scenario came up.

An hour later after weaving our way through the busy streets, we finally got to our destination. It was our parish church in Rome, St Patrick's.

The nagging feeling I had been trying to suppress came surging towards me. I held on to that very faint hope that I was wrong and there was just a regular activity that we needed to attend, after all, it was a major day in the church; the solemnity of the Immaculate conception.

I looked at everyone, a lot of faces looking strange and weird to me. My aunt went to sit at the front row, and I walked beside her.

Staring at me were two coffins, a gold coloured one and a white coloured one. My breath hitched as I stared. I battled the feeling that kept growing within my chest. That sick feeling that has been plaguing my mind and tormenting me all week was finally confirmed and staring right at me.

I was nudged by a nun who approached me gently to sit down. It was then I realized I had frozen in the spot right in front of the coffins. I ignored the nun, and instead moved further towards the coffins. I knew I had to take a look at them.

Those two were my world, they were the reason for my existence. Suddenly, all the memories came gushing into my mind. Their smiles, their scolding, their ever-growing insistence in making me a prim and proper lady.

I was filled with dread and regret, I should have listened more, I should have loved them more, I should not have continuously run off to gather those pieces of fabrics just to play a seamstress game. I should have been more focused with school like they wanted me to.

I should have told them I loved them more. "It is all over; it doesn't matter anymore" came the final thought before an engulfing calmness took over me.

I turned around and went to my seat. The requiem mass and burial passed by in a blur with pity looks passing by and words like "My condolences" almost making me deaf.

We got back to the house, and around 7pm, feeling suffocated, I stepped out of the house with thoughts of clearing my head by the calm night.

"I hate it here, and I hate them."I heard a young boy of my age talking to himself in front of the connecting bridge that led to the house. I didn't realize how far I had walked until his tiny sad voice brought me back to reality.

I walked up to him and just stared at him for a while, not daring to say anything. He looked up, finally realizing he was not alone and stared back at me.

"I never knew I had company in going crazy" I told him as I chuckled at his cute and pouty face. He was a very handsome boy with a chisel jawline, and amazing features for his age.

"What are you doing out here by this time?" he asked me. "Are you running from your mommy and daddy too? Mine are never around, and when they finally show up, they always have a problem or another with how I choose to live." he laments in a very frustrated tone.

"I came out to get some air, and you could also say I'm running away from my house too, though it's for a different reason.

I feel suffocated, like I could break down any moment if I did not leave" I responded to him. "What things do your parents make you want to do that you dread so much?" I asked him.

Taking his gaze away from me and looking into the ocean he responded shrugging "Books! all of the financial things and they just seem so bent on making me a 'proper' heir", he says while rolling his eyes and making an emphasis on the proper with his fingers.

At that description, my eyes filled up with tears as memories of my parents came crashing on me. Whispering in the saddest tone I had ever heard from myself I responded "I wish I could have those moments back with my own parents. We just had their funeral today, and I just found out they passed away today too."

I stared at the water beneath the bridge, also getting lost in my own world, "You should appreciate them while they are still around and tell them you love them whenever you can, even when you think they are being unbearable.

I'm sure they love you as much as mine loved me, and just want the best for you. It took the loss of mine to realize this"I mumbled to him absent-minded.

Turning towards me, he held my hand and for the first time that very horrible day I got a look that was not pity, but one that comforted me nonetheless. He ran off after that and mistakenly dropped a locket behind.

I picked the locket and kept it realizing I did not ask for his name. "I'll keep it till we see next" I told myself as I went back to the house feeling lighter than I did when I stepped out of it.

Upon getting to the house, I saw my aunt sitting on the chair. I went towards her and held her hand and it was at that point that she looked at me. She was broken, and it was etched on every part of her being.

I wished I could do something to lessen her pain, but I was equally as helpless. I hugged her and went to my room to sleep. I woke up to a screeching scream, and I ran towards where the noise came from.

I saw my aunt on the floor clutching her hands in her hair in what I could only imagine would be a painful manner. She was screaming and thrashing on the floor like someone that was tormented by demons – not like I know how they look.

The nanny who also doubled as our housekeeper came rushing into the room to calm her down and urged me to go and get some rest. I turned around to return but then I froze as the sentence "I'm so sorry Amarantha, I should never have killed you both" escaped my aunt's mouth.