Tainted Love

Lonely

The morning air was cold, soft, and pale, the kind of dawn that carried silence like a curse. The sun hadn’t yet broken through the horizon, and the clouds hung low, bruised with faint shades of gray. The wind whispered through the curtains as Pascaline stood on the balcony, motionless, her hands clutching the rusty rail like someone trying to hold on to life itself.

Her eyes were red, swollen from too many nights of crying, but still, tears found their way out ..silently, endlessly. Her lips trembled as she whispered the same question she had asked God every day since her nightmare began.

“Why me?”

The words left her mouth like broken glass.

“Why me? Why me? Why me?”

Each repetition cracked something deeper inside her. Her voice was hoarse, her soul sounded empty. The sound of it echoed faintly in the quiet neighborhood, swallowed up by the wind.

She had lost count of the days since her world fell apart. But this morning… this morning felt different. The sadness was heavier, thicker … as if the weight of her entire past had come to sit beside her. She didn’t even know why. Maybe grief had a way of choosing its own moments to strangle you.

Her knees felt weak. The sky blurred as tears flooded her eyes again. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat …fragile, tired, unwilling.

Life had been cruel to her. Too cruel.

They had used her own sister against her … the one person she once trusted with her heart. They had broken her, piece by piece. They had taken everything that made her her: her competence, her freedom, her destiny, even the child she gave life to.

Her voice cracked as she whispered again. “They stole my years… my everything.”

She didn’t know if her mother was still alive. She didn’t know if her father had survived all that chaos. She didn’t even know if the man who once promised to marry her …who once looked at her like she was his entire world …was still breathing somewhere, or if he had long forgotten her.

And the child.

The child she gave birth to.

The child her sister took from her.

She didn’t know if that child even knew she existed. Or if that child was even still alive.

The thought alone crushed her chest like stone.

She dropped to her knees, pressing her palms against her face, and let out a long, aching cry that pierced through the still air. She cried until her voice broke. She cried until her breath shivered out of her lungs.

The house was silent behind her ..,too silent. Everyone was still asleep. Or maybe they didn’t care.

She stayed there, crying at the balcony, as dawn began to breathe faint streaks of light across the sky. The world was waking up, but she wished it wouldn’t.

Then… a shadow moved behind her.

Soft footsteps. Small, hesitant.

She turned slightly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. And there he was —…Daniel. The little boy with eyes too innocent for the world he had been born into.

He stood there in his small pajamas, hair ruffled, clutching a toy car in his hand. His eyes met hers …curious, worried.

“Auntie,” he whispered, voice soft and trembling. “Why are you crying?”

Pascaline’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She had told him not to call her mom anymore … that he should only call the woman who raised him “mommy.” It was Erica’s command, and Pascaline didn’t want another fight. So she obeyed.

Still, hearing auntie from his lips broke her heart more than she expected.

She turned away, facing the morning light again, her voice faint. “I’m fine, Daniel.”

But she wasn’t fine. And he knew it.

The boy took a few steps closer, then wrapped his tiny arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. It was a small, pure gesture …but it tore through the fortress of pain inside her.

Pascaline closed her eyes, pressing her hand on his little arm, her tears falling again. She tried to smile, but it came out as a quiver.

“Why are you crying, Auntie?” he asked again, his voice fragile but filled with concern.

She knelt down slowly until her face was level with his. She looked at him … those wide eyes, full of light and innocence … and her chest ached with love and guilt all at once.

“You’re such an innocent child,” she whispered, brushing his cheek gently. “The world is cruel, Daniel. Too cruel. You’ll never understand, my child.”

He blinked, confused, his little lips parting as if to ask again, but she just shook her head.

“Some pain,” she said softly, “is too big to explain.”

They stayed there for a while, sitting on the balcony floor as the light of morning grew stronger. The world around them felt suspended …quiet, untouched. Birds chirped faintly from the trees, but to Pascaline, it all sounded distant.

Daniel leaned against her arm, fidgeting with his toy car. After a long silence, he looked up at her again. “Auntie… what’s wrong with you?”

She smiled weakly. He was persistent — maybe too smart for his age.

She didn’t want to burden him with her sorrow. But something inside her needed to let a piece of it out …to share just enough to breathe again.

Her voice trembled. “Daniel… do you see that tall, old house over there?”

Daniel turned to look. Across the street, past a row of trees, stood a large, abandoned building … dark, cracked, and hollow. Its walls were peeled, and its windows looked like empty eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “I see it.”

“What happened there?”

Pascaline’s eyes softened with memory. Her heart raced. “I was there,” she said quietly. “I was held there. Against my will.”

Daniel gasped, eyes wide. “What?!”

Before he could scream louder, Pascaline covered his mouth gently. “Shhh. Don’t shout. Your parents are still sleeping.”

Daniel’s eyes darted around nervously, then back to her. “I told them!” he whispered. “I told Mommy and Daddy that someone lived there, but they didn’t believe me. They said it was just my imagination. So… it was you?”

She nodded slowly, her voice cracking. “Yes… it was me.”

“But why?” he asked again, curiosity and worry blending in his tone. “Why did they keep you there?”

“It’s a long story,” she said softly, tears filling her eyes again. “A story for another day.”

Before Daniel could reply, heavy footsteps echoed behind them.

Pascaline froze.

Her heart stopped for a moment, then began to pound harder. She didn’t even need to turn … she knew that voice. That sharp, cutting voice that had haunted her for years.

“Enough,” the voice snapped.

Erica.

She stormed toward them, eyes blazing. “How dare you talk to him about that? Can’t you see he’s just a child?”

Her voice sliced through the quiet morning like thunder.

Pascaline stood up quickly, trembling. “Erica, please…”

“Don’t you ‘please’ me!” Erica spat, grabbing Daniel by the arm and pulling him away. “You want to traumatize my son now? You want to feed him your miserable stories and poison his peace?”

Pascaline opened her mouth, but words failed her. “I didn’t mean…”

“Shut up!” Erica barked, her voice shaking with fury. “You live in my house, you eat my food, and still, you don’t know your place? You don’t live my life, Pascaline. Stay out of it.”

She turned sharply and dragged Daniel inside.

Pascaline stood frozen. The echo of Erica’s voice lingered in the air long after she was gone.

She felt the tears again …slow, uncontrollable. She sat back down on the floor, hugging herself. The wind brushed against her hair, carrying the faint smell of smoke from the kitchen.

The sun had risen now. Morning had fully come.

She couldn’t stay. Not like this.

By midmorning, she had arranged things quietly …not much, just a few clothes and her. She didn’t want to keep living in this circle of pain.

She walked down the hallway , her footsteps slow, uncertain. When she reached the kitchen, she stopped.

Erica was there, cooking. The smell of fried onions filled the air.

“Erica…” she said softly.

No answer.

Pascaline took a step closer. “Erica, please.”

Still nothing. Erica stirred the food, her face cold, hard as stone.

“I know you don’t like me,” Pascaline continued. “And I don’t blame you. But please… tell me what I can do so you don’t hate me anymore. I’m tired of this. I want peace between us.”

Erica finally turned, her eyes sharp.

“Peace?” she repeated, voice dripping with mockery. “You think peace just happens because you ask for it?”

Pascaline’s voice broke. “Please… I’m asking from my heart. I don’t want us to keep fighting. I can’t live like this anymore. Tell me what I can do.”

Erica stared at her for a long time. The silence was thick, suffocating. Then, slowly, she smirked.

“You really want peace?”

Pascaline nodded eagerly, tears glistening in her eyes. “Yes.”

Erica stepped closer, her voice low and venomous.

“Then leave.”

She brushed past Pascaline roughly, her shoulder knocking into hers, almost sending her falling.

Pascaline caught herself on the counter, breath trembling. She turned, watching Erica walk away ….strong, confident, heartless.

A single tear fell down her cheek.

And for the first time in a long while, Pascaline realized …maybe leaving wasn’t weakness. Maybe it was survival.

She looked out the kitchen window, where sunlight hit the old, abandoned house in the distance ….her prison, her past, her pain.

Maybe it was time to stop waiting for peace from those who never wanted it for her.