Chapter 2: Cruelty Beneath the Elegant Facade
Chapter 2: Cruelty Beneath the Elegant Facade
Before Mariana could even process the surroundings, a shrill voice echoed from the corner of the yard. It was Patricia, her father’s second wife.
It was a sharp tone, twisting the fake elegance she usually reserved for high-society charity brunches, where she always played the role of the long-suffering victim surrounded by ungrateful people.
"Don't look at me with those eyes, old woman! You brought this treatment upon yourself!"
Mariana quickened her pace, rounding the corner of the ivy-covered brick wall. The scene that unfolded before her made her freeze, the blood turning to ice in her veins.
There was Consuelo. Her beloved grandmother.
Inside a metal cage.
She wasn't chained beside it. She wasn't sitting on the ground near it. She was locked inside a heavy iron cage meant for large guard dogs.
Her grandmother was huddled on a filthy, stained towel thrown carelessly over the cold metal floor. Her silver hair, once always kept neat and elegant, was now a tangled, matted mess of sweat and dirt, half-covering her hollowed face. Mariana could see horrifying, dark purple bruises encircling the frail woman's wrists. The thin cardigan she wore was torn to shreds, and her lips were cracked and bleeding from the scorching summer heat.
Just out of her reach, a few inches past the iron bars, sat a plastic plate of cold, fly-covered food. A small plastic bowl of water had been overturned, soaking the dirt into dark mud.
Mariana forgot how to breathe. Her body turned to stone, her eyes entirely locked on the frail figure inside the cage.
Consuelo slowly looked up. Her old, clouded eyes held no tears; they had dried up long ago, leaving only profound resignation and absolute despair. But when she saw Mariana, a faint, desperate spark ignited in them.
"My darling… you… you’ve come back."
Her voice was a ragged, weak whisper, barely louder than a sigh.
Patricia, standing not too far away, looked impeccably put-together in a bright red silk dress, designer sunglasses pushed up into her perfectly styled hair. When she noticed Mariana, she jumped, a forced, twisted smile appearing on her face accompanied by a nervous laugh that couldn't hide her sudden panic.
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"Oh, Mariana! Don't make a fuss, darling. Your grandmother… she is mentally unstable. The doctors said so. She became aggressive and started breaking things. Your father… before he passed, he knew she needed strict control to keep everyone safe."
Patricia babbled, desperately trying to weave a web of lies to cover her sadistic cruelty.
