Stolen Voices ✓

June 23rd

Found this beautiful poem, thought I'd share it.

June 23rd:

Shuffling through her mother's secured oak desk drawer, Mara hunts for her hidden driver's license. Her mother had taken it the second time Mara was emitted into the hospital, afraid she may do something rash with it.

But now Mara needs it, still wanting to get that tattoo she and Elias had spoken about at the library. Her fingers land on a piece of fancied thick paper, pulling it out. Prepared to set it down with the rest of the stack, Mara's eyes flick over the words.

It is her birth certificate, signed by her mother and- 

Her breath gets caught in her throat. All at once, her body is burning as she stares, she can barely look. Her vision becomes blurry as she falls against the light gray wall, her fingertips white. She grips the paper, wanting to rip it to shreds. To put it back and erase the image from her memory.

Garrett Delarosa is printed in letters over the father's line, but that isn't her parent. Her dad is Thomas Gray. Never has she heard the name Garrett before.

She wants to scream, but she can't form any sounds. The door clicks, piercing into the silence, as her mother's pristine shape appears in the doorway. Genevieve looks at Mara's slumped figure with a frown, snapping her fingers to get her attention.

She's taken back by the chilled eloquence Mara levels her with. Her eyes are hard, her blues so clear they look vacant and dissociative. Mara is enraged, wiping her face of any emotions as she lets the numbness take her over.

"What are you doing in here," her mother questions, clearly frustrated. Her dark eyes look over the mess Mara has created, focusing on the stack of papers and open desk drawer. "How did you get in there?"

"With the keys," Mara speaks openly, not an ounce of emotion. To anyone, Mara would look relaxed, maybe even withdrawn. But inside, chaos is brewing in her heart. Everything she's ever thought to be true is perhaps a lie.

"What's that?" Her mother asks in a sharp voice, though Mara can hear the slight worry laced beneath its tone. Her mother is terrified, her eyes staring intently at Mara who shrugs nonchalantly.

"Whose Garrett Delarosa?" Mara asks, standing up, so she is a few inches taller than her mom. Genevieve's face pales as she shakes her head. The secrets she kept pressed down for so long are surfacing. She is scared, utterly terrified that the life she's worked so hard for is being torn down by her youngest daughter. The daughter she can never fully understand, never fully love.

"You know, I tried so hard to fit into your ideal family picture," Mara says, pacing back and forth. She walks the length of the room, her heels clicking against the tiles at an agonizing idle speed.

"But you were always so hard on me. The twins, well, they were just perfect. But for me, I was riddled with diseases that you couldn't understand," Mara spits, balling her fists at her side. She isn't seeing clearly, just speaking what the voices in her head have told her over the years. Every thought she's ever had, every out of place feeling.

"I never-" Genevieve stutters, her eyes pooling with sadness.

"You hated me all my life. Emanuella this, Emanuella that," Mara says this, tears of rage and sadness streaming down her face. Her expression holds no compassion, though, like she is a robot. She continues to pace the length of the room.

"I don't hate you," Genevieve tries to calm her, stepping towards Mara. She stops as Mara glares at her so harshly, her blood runs cold.

"No, you just couldn't stand me. I'm just your daily reminder that you're not as perfect as you'd like to pretend," Mara throws down her birth certificate.