Lacus Arsenault's pov
Today is November ninth, a day that is special to me.
Because it is Irie's birthday. I decided to surprise her with a big gift. I picked out a few Chinese books that I know she will love because I've seen them in her Amazon shopping cart. Also some natural smelling body product that is similar to the ones she uses now.
I'm a very attentive person, I hear, listen, see, smell everything in little detail, nothing escapes my eyes. I read people like an open book, studying their emotions and mood with ease.
I guess the habit developed because of the environment that I grew up in. At a very young age my father taught me martial art and by age seven I was able to fire a gun. 'You will be controlling everything from afar, safe in your office. Though it wouldn't hurt to learn some fighting skills, just in case.' My father had said.
I had private tutors, I never went to school, therefore I do not have any friends except for the children of my dad's men, who turned out to be my right handed men when I grew up. There's plenty of slaves around me growing up though I don't try to befriend them. They don't even dare to look me in the eyes, they know what I can do to them. Not to mention we are not the same, we are not in the same league.
Growing up I was surrounded by my dad's howler. He is not a gentle man. Once I saw him slitting a slave's throat simply because she poured wine on his expensive carpet. My eyes widened when I saw the glistening blade shine in the air. I rush forward and shield the slave with my body. I felt her cold tears on my shirt before the blade fell mercilessly to my back and I fainted in pain. My dad had the time to withdraw the knife but chose not to.
When I was awake my dad stood over my bed like a statue. I expected an apology or at least something along the lien, but instead I received a slap to my face. My ear buzzed and the next thing I heard shocked me, 'toughen up Lacus, a weakling is no child of mine.' I cried at the cruelty of his words and I received another slap. 'Stop crying, only weakling cries.'
He is a ruthless man, killing people without blinking twice. Cruel even to his own kid, beating him whenever he does something that doesn't satisfy him.
He only has a soft spot for one woman, Rosaline, my mother. Just the thought of her name sends a jab of pain in my chest. Part of me died with her that day. When I saw her casket lowered into the ground I badly wanted to join her. Mom, bring me with you.
If I say a part of me has died with her, then the whole of my father died with her. Ever since that day my dad is not the same. He wailed like a baby at the funeral, even when everyone else was gone he was still kneeling on the ground in front of her grave. After the funeral he locked himself in a room with a small courtyard and hasn't come out since, which is why I have to step up and be the new mafia don.
It's been 418 days since she passed. Her face is getting blurrier day by day. I desperately tried to recall the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes or the dimple at her cheek when she smiles or her silk like honey blonde hair. But when I imagined her eyes I can't remember her mouth. And when I remembered her mouth I couldn't imagine the way her nose shaped.
I'll see you on the other side mom. I paused, we won't be on the same side. Surely an angel like her would belong in heaven among the clouds. She's nothing but a simple woman who loves flowers and music.
And me? I deserve to burn in hell for eternity.
When I was young I had often hoped that I was born in a normal household, one without crime involved. Then I won't have to get beaten by my dad for acting soft or witnessing people getting tortured and killed. Maybe I would have friends who are connected with love rather than fear and admiration. Maybe I would have had a girlfriend instead of one night stand, if I had a girlfriend we would have been married and lived happily ever after like how I read in books. But instead I will be marrying Roxy, having a platonic marriage.
When I think about the word 'girlfriend'. The first girl come into my mind is Irie. I imagined her linking arm with me, calling me babe as we went shopping together. I imagine the first ray of the morning light hits her half blanket cover shoulder as her eyes fluttered open to meet mine, what a great way to begin a day.
Now that I'm older, I learned to enjoy being a mafia prince. I like having authority and money. I love how everyone has to bow before me and do whatever I say. Love is bullshit, who needs love when you can use fear to send them into submission.
I glanced at the gift that I'm planning to give to Irie. It lacks something but I just can't put my finger on it.
Oh I know! A cake! How is it a proper birthday if there's no cake! My mother always gives me a handmade one for my birthday. I pulled out my phone and clicked into a bakery app. I scrolled through it and found the perfect cake!
The cake is the shape of a panda's face. It suits Irie very well. A panda hoodie is what she had worn when we first met.
"You really love her do you?" My fiance's voice chuckled behind me as she peered over at my phone screen.
"Love?" I tucked away the phone like a child that is caught watching porn. "It's just an obsession, I'm just interested in her because she's not into me. That's all. I'll throw her away like the trash she is once I get a second taste of her. I'll get bored, I always do."
"Is that so?" Roxy's lip pursed into an amused smile. "Cause it seems like you wanted to marry her or something."
"Nah, if I'm marrying anyone, it's you. You are my best friend."
"Good." she laughed. "She's so skinny that is pathetic. Not to mention her flat boobs, disgusting. Your men would scorn you if they discovered you are so obsessed with her."
"I'll unalive anyone who dares to scorn me."
"Heartless are we? Do you ever wanted to fuck me?" She asked abruptly, surprising the both of us.
"You're very attractive, but no."
She makes a sad face and pouts her cherry red mouth like she's angry but I know better.
"You are like my sister Rox. How could I?"
She laughs again, she's in a good mood today. "I know, I'm just messing with you. We are straightly platonic, don't think of anything weird about me." She ruffled my golden hair like a big sister and I pretended to look annoyed.
"You still haven't opened the envelope." She said, the laughter is completely gone from her voice now.
"Yeah." My own face fells serious too at the mention of the envelope. I tips my head, studying the envelope. The envelope is full, there's gotta be at least ten pages in there. The pages in the envelope are what drained the last of my mother's energy. "I can't bring myself to read it. The envelope is the last of her. If I read it then there would really be nothing left of her."
Heart disease is a slow death, it doesn't happen at once like a car accident. Instead you wait for years and years for your heart to stop working. The first few years her disease didn't feel real, life carried on like normal, she'd still wake up every morning and cook us breakfast. There's no falter in her smile and no stiffness in her movement. She fades away so slowly, so slowly that we are not even noticing. We still wait for her to one day laugh and be like 'Haha I got you! I wasn't actually sick, is just a prank.'
It didn't felt real until one day she fainted on the floor and was hurried to the hospital. My dad's heart breaks little by little as he watch life ebbs away from his lover's body day by day. He tried looking for a heart that is suitable for heart transplant but there's non.
'Use mine' I offered
'Don't be stupid.' That's what she had said, 'You'll die without a heart.'
I know for a fact that mom will not accept the heart transplant even if we found a suitable one. She would've not allowed my father to kill the owner of that heart just so we can save her. 'They have families too, my life isn't worth any more than theirs.' She'd say. She's simply too kind for an innocent person to die for her sake.
"Maybe read it when you are sad and need her wisdom, then." Roxy said. "Save it for a hard time."