Beneath the ground.

Chapter two

25/5/2026

“I don’t get your point. And I am glad that way. Elizabeth. It is final. The Jenkins are visiting tomorrow. And you are coming.” Mum said in a calm, fragmented pace, making me realize that tomorrow is going to be one of my stupid days.

“But I am going to visit Samantha, tomorrow.” I reminded her.

“I don’t see the use for that visit.” She said while sipping her wine.

“I don’t see the use of anything you say.” She stared at me with open, full, scary eyes. “Mum, how about making me go to Samantha tomorrow and I promise I am going to be here at time. In. A happy. Mode.” She got her stare back to her dish which is nearly untouched.

“Promise? I don’t trust you on that.”

“No. No. I promise. I cross my heart.” Silence took over the place with everyone eating, except me, waiting for her reply that counts as a matter of life or death. On my opposite side, Margret sat without being so attentive, or little concerned about our talk. She is her mother daughter, while I think I am myself own daughter.

“Very fine. But I want you here at exactly 5 o’clock.” My smile was automatically drawn on my face.

“Mama, is Jacob coming too?” Margret said, as I rolled my eyes, I can’t believe Margret is in love with a Jenkin!

“Yes, he is. Try not to show so much enthusiasm, dear. Be respectful and polite most of all. Listen both of you, I don’t want tomorrow night to turn a disaster. This visit is a way of apologizing about what Elizabeth has stupidly done.” She got me a fierce look, while Margret nods her head as if saying: her normal. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Elizabeth, you are to say it out load.”

I almost puked the food out of my mouth on the dining table. “What? What do you mean out load?”

“Stupid. I mean a speech saying how remorseful and regretful you are about corrupting Jasmines’ wedding.” She concluded, but I was still amazed. I was never going over and apologizing in front a bunch of Jenkins how sorry I am to ruin Jasmines’ wedding (the one person I hate most.)

“Mum! It was not even my fault. It was her i***t dog, it pooped on my dress and started chasing me.”

“Really? I don’t care. It is not my fault either to stand there embarrassed of your actions and your way of not knowing how to deal with situations like a proper lady.” What? What does that even mean? Is hating dogs not lady-like?

“Mum, I am never going to do it.”

“You are.” She seems so serious, strict and embraced on what she says. No way am I going to do what she asks me to, this wouldn’t happen even when hell freezes over.

“I am not.” She stayed silent for a while swallowing the meat she just ingested. Then reiterating what she has just said, with the slightest way of blackmailing me that if I didn’t, no visits out of the clock barrier. Rude.

“You can’t just do this.”

“I think I just did.”

“Unbelievable. I’m living in a prison. Just please Mum don’t start, I’ve been controlling my anger of you withdrawing the money from Sam’s hospital.”

“Really? And who is that Samantha anyway so I would spend a monthly fees of 12,000 Rizta on?”

“She is my best friend, Miss Davis’ daughter. God, do you not have any mercy?”

“Well, I think I don’t. And I think you had got used to it quiet enough.” I tried to speak out but she paused me off and completed. “And I think your apology is going to be done. And I also think this prison is staying locked for a month now. Deal with it, Elizabeth”

“This is not fair!” I stood up, crashing my glass of wine I held on the floor, appearing as blood. “You are never fair. And I mother, I am never to be controlled by you. My visit to Samantha tomorrow is final and I am not going to apologize. And I think you who have to deal with it!” I crashed the door open and went to my room, my cell.

“Well, Elizabeth, we will see who truly will deal with it!” I can hear her shouting, yelling, screaming high enough for me to hear. But I blocked my mind and fell asleep.

…

I am surrounded with blood, and glass pieces I broke magnified or I shrank. The blood is hot enough and sticky with a high, blind level of red. I always thought of how blood could feel like, it feels soft and living. It is a way of showing peace and war, a way of showing love and hate, a way of showing courage and fear. But it can only differentiate between kind and rock-hearted people. Blood nourishes the soul, without it the body is dead; ruthless people have a dead feelings, dead soul, dead humanity. They are blood-less and maybe that is the one reason why they adore killing that much: to gain blood which are not theirs. Zombies. Blood zombies.

I can see one blood zombie far away, walking near me and bending to drink the blood I stand on. My blood as I collapse and shrink farther more when he keeps on dinking. He gets bigger and bigger, until I became a cell sized person. I am in the blood of mine. It feels so different from the inside, feels so crowded with all the red and white blood cells and all the plasma. It gives a way of intimacy and unity. It gives hope, when I am mostly nothing with no hope. I am free.

…

26/5/2026

“Oh my God! What a dream!” I said, thinking that I am alone in my room. Where I am not. But what? How? I locked the room’s door yesterday. “How did you get in here, Matilda?”

“The backup keys.”

“God! How many backup keys does Mum have to my room? She hasn’t got that number of keys to Margret’s room.”

“Maybe, because Margret is so obedient and doesn’t get nervous about everything. That is just a maybe.”

“Oh, just a maybe. Thank you so much for the self-esteem you building me.”

“Any time.” She opened the balcony enabling the breeze of fresh air to ventilate my cell of despair and weakness. “It is a good day, isn’t it?”

“No, it is not. The Jenkins are coming! How could you say that, Matilda? You know how much I hate them. I hate them from the deep heart. The deep, deep, deep heart.” She laughed.

“You know. But don’t make fun of me, eh?”

“Just go on.”

“I can feel it in my bones. Today is one of your best and extra-ordinary days.”

“You are hilarious. Don’t you know that?” She raised her left eyebrow.

“I told you not to make fun of me. God! I hate you, Elizabeth. I am sending my resignation to Miss Adams.”

“Hilarious. Just hilarious” I repeated with a smile that made her semi-angry.

“Hey, what were you dreaming?” She remembered.

“It is nothing. It was just weird, won’t talk about it.” I stared at the balcony, with the pigeon have its wing freed to swim in the blue upside down sea. Harmony. Matilda disturbed my peaceful gaze with a dress on each hand, hanging them for me to choose. “Neither. Get me a black costume.”

“What? Why?” She shockingly said, with both her eye brows close enough to meet.

“I have a mission.” I whispered. She gave me the Oh my God look. Nodded. And got me the silk; below the knees; off-shouldered; black dress, the feathered, black hat, the 3cm, black, shoe. Without extra accessories, I looked at my reflection; simple, elegant, not-that-very-rich. Perfect. “Matilda, check the hall for me please.”

“Are you sure? Why do you not just prove your mother wrong?”

“I don’t care about what she thinks of me. I got my cash ready.” Holding my purse over my head. “I am visiting Samantha. It is no way she is keeping me in here like last time.”

“Okay, but get me out of it.”

“You have nothing to do with it, Matilda. Don’t worry. You are safe.” She seemed scared, she once told me that this is the only place that can approve her black colour. My eyes on hers, she is broke and fragile. She needs more confirmation. “I promise.” I said, not enough confirmation but this is all what I could afford now. We are silent, till she leaves the room to check the hall’s emptiness. I feel sorry for her most of the times, she is a lonely widowed, black women. She’s a collection of those who gets discriminated in that world. She gets no freedom, and because of her illiteracy she doesn’t care or even know what prerequisite freedom is. Her own main concern is Haley (her 7 year old, orphan, syndrome diseased daughter).

Mainly, human beings are dignity-less or mercy-less, not understanding the importance of both factors in building a humanity. A second step of losing those identifications is that the world would alter to a ruthless place, where people don’t mind to living in it or being treated like dead souls. Maybe my lifestyle is more convenient than Matilda’s, maybe I have to be thankful to be an Adams. So, why am I not? Life is wired: people who has nothing wants everything, and who possess everything wants nothing. We are naturally oblivious, jealous of people who are jealous from us.

Matilda came with a rapid breathing rate, she said, “It is clear. You are ready to go and be careful.”

“I will. Don’t worry.” She looked at me as if she said: Your words makes no difference. I am worried. Very worried. “I will be back before Mum even starts to notice my absence. Everything is going to be fine.” I hugged her, mixing the warmth of both our bodies. “Matilda, you said it. Today seems to be beautiful, for both of us. Trust me.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply enabling me to hear it.

“Okay. Just make sure you have got all what you want. The cash and the book.”

“God! The book I was going to forget it. Matilda you are a life saver.” I took the book and began my adventure, out of my cell. I saw her from my window waved her goodbye, till she disappeared from sight.