Knocks on the door came trumping in the moment Kamara left. On second thought she decided to unlock the door after several bangs, well polite bangs if she must. She could tell it was not the devil, a probable guess was Auntie who wanted to check on her so she went for the knobs, to her startle it was a little angel. Lisa's feet walked in and sat on the end of the bed , followed after by Kenita. She gazed at the girl dotted with eyes focused at her.
"Does it hurt?" She asked in reference to her neck, the devil must have left his signature on her. She cursed through a breath, she can't have a child witnessing all those things. It might affect her, she worried through a made out smile.
"Of course not" she lied but it was clear the child wasn't having it. The fingers prints were enough to be seen.
"Do adults lie so easily?" She asked " I know it hurts, I heard you and Dad arguing" How could not ignore a fact like that? The child's room was just a door away.
A worrisome look fell on her face as she stared at her niece, she was going to be implicated by their actions, no matter which side won she was getting hurt and it hurt her to think about it.
"I'm sorry your Dad and I are just having a little misunderstanding but we will fix it" she assured, knowing the impossibility of her promise. She would understand, once she was done exposing her father she e we liked take her to the states there they both will stay and live happily. But first she had to jail the culprit behind her sister's death,
"You're not my mother" the statement left her lips hanging aparts as were her eyes that froze in time. Deeply she stared at the girl not daring to say or act.
"What, why would you ask that?" Kenita's voice softened as she took Lisa's hands, her touch a bit cold as were her eyes that shielded off staring at the sweet girl. A sense of guilt built in but dared not leverage it out.
"You look like her but you ain't her" Lisa's voice came through flat but clear, her hands slowly pulled away from Kenita's grip. "My mother wasn't as nice as you nor did she care about anyone but herself" the child continued while her fingers beat on the edges of the bed.
"She was allergic to chocolate but you ain't" Right, that one blunder of hers hasn't been forgotten. She knew it was going to bite her but not in a way as that, the child was quite good at picking things.
"You wear white a lot while mom loved red and colors of flash" she detailed. The few days her gaze has been on the new mom who appeared different from the old mom, her style of appearance was in contrast with her real mom. Her mother had a high sense of fashion, adored herself with glittering things, and loved exhibitions of herself. While Kenita was modern and quite dull in fashion, her style was simple and eye-catching, and her colors were white and black.
"You frequently rub your eyes which must be a result of the lens you have on"
Kenita's eyes widened for just a moment before she quickly glanced at Lisa, her hands wriggling with the hem of her shirt. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then pressed her lips together, swallowing hard.
How could she have noticed? she did her best to not snitch that out.
She was wearing lenses that matched her sister's light-dark amber eyes that detailed the beauty of perfection and demureness, while her eyes were a warm brown with a striking shade of faded sunset, warm and inviting yet edged with a mysterious depth. They held a golden glow that intensified in the sunlight, like the way bees catch light. Long, dark lashes framed them, giving her gaze a softness that contrasted with the sharp intelligence that flickered just beneath the surface.
"How?, well I saw your photo. You're her identical twin sister" she concluded seizing the breath out of Kenita. The room seemed to close in on her, every second on the clock increased the silence that followed. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her brain calculating what to say or best figure how Lisa got to know everything.
In a low sigh, she directed her gaze at the child and stalked her way to her. "How do you know all these?" she asked through a soaked voice.
"I saw a photo of you both in Mom's closet " Lisa explained. A year before she was in search of her mother in request to grant her access to her tab but on her serial inside the room, her mom was nowhere to be seen so she took it upon herself to scan the room for her tablets. On searching each corner of the room, her hands touched a hard object from the closet, she slowly pulled it out to reveal a small steel box. On intuition she let loose of the hook holding it together, within held papers of different colors, she grabbed them out and laid on her lap. Gently her finger rubbed against what seemed to be a white card, she took it out and flipped it over to see an image of her mom's younger self with another of her kind. Both were a copy of each other, the only distinction was the eyes and probably the hair that was brown and dark but if not given a clear look one would miss it.
The following minute her mom walked in from the shower, saw her, and snatched the photo out of her grasp. Her voice lashed at her in scolds and had her out of the room.
She was not sure of the reasons for her mom's reactions, it was just a photo but everything made sense at the present moment. She was angry because she had hidden the truth about her being a twin.
"I'm sorry dear, I didn't mean to hurt you" Kenita faintly whispered out, her hands clutched on her face as she held back her eyes from running out. "I'm sorry" Guilt wore over her, she was hurting the child again. She had just mourned the death of her mother then she she showed up giving her hope only for her to break it. The thoughts weighed on her like a thousand concrete.
"It's okay, am glad you are here. She wasn't much of a mother to me" Lisa stated, as much as she would hide her grief behind her words she was hurt by her actions. When she returned in disguise as her mother she felt relief from loss, her heart was at peace and lightened from all the nights stared at her mom's photo. Even if she was a bad mother to her she still held her safe and high her heart.
But again she was grateful to have her aunt stepped in her mother's shoes. She showed her love and motherly affection and that she appreciated.
"I'm not mad just a bit sad" she honestly said to her aunt while reaching for her hands. With the gentle wind that rubbed on their skins, they locked in an embrace, forging a new path.
***
Out, the night wind gracefully spread its way on his skin that was left in a paper cotton shirt that was kept loose halfway to his chest, his thighs stuck in the pair of cotton shorts. His thoughts ran through as he drowned his concession of the guilt of his earlier actions.
He shouldn't have laid hands on her, he scolded within. He should have held back, he was wrong and he admitted but dared not say it out loud.
The best to his situation was a savage taste of bokersbourbon whiskey which lingered a warm burning sensation as he gulped off the bottle. A woody, earthly flavor stings his tongue as he sends a few more down his throat, probably a result of the years' process in the barrels.
With the rest of the bottle on the small see-through table, he picked up a box and pulled out a stick of cigarette. His fingers trembled slightly as they fumbled with the cigarette, a telltale sign of the stress gnawed at him from within.
His face was drawn, with pale circles under his eyes hinting at a restless mind and worrisome thoughts wrestling inside him. As he finally managed to light the cigarette, he took a deep, shaky drag, inhaling the smoke like it was a lifeline.
It wasn't a habit, he only engaged in cigarettes when his mind was lost and corrupted and at that time he was lost and needed rescue.
His shoulder was tensed and hunched, as a result of a brief relaxation as the nicotine hit his system. A cloud of smoke escapes his lips as he exhales but the relief is fleeting. His eyes, still filled with a mix of anxiety and exhaustion, flit around the open balcony that hosts a huge pool filled with ocean-like water.
The cigarette burned down quickly, each dragging more desperately than the last as if trying to pull the stress from his body with every inhale. Even as he smoked, the lines on his forehead deepened, and his jaw remained clenched. More like a person consumed by his thoughts, seeking console in a habit he knows offered only temporary escape.
In a short time, his hand went in for a third take only to be halted by the dance of his phone on the table, in a glance at the screen he picked it up and held it close to his left ear.
"Yes," he responded to the voice at the other end.
"He has been found" the voice reported and he died the call and dropped the phone. Relaxed his back muscles went on the chair, and he was done playing little games with her. His order to find the driver had been done, it was his turn to strike.