RICHES AND BLOOD.

RICHES AND BLOOD.

The marriage of the century.

That was what they called it. The greatest union. We were getting married; I, the Queen of Northern Ireland and Leo, the Governor of the States. It was a Disney story; how we met, dated and finally got engaged. Now it was marriage. The tabloids went crazy on descriptions of my wedding dress and the wedding preparations as they couldn't attend. 

It was a closed wedding, with only 12 people in attendance. In contrast, the reception was an open buffet for anyone and everyone, although we didn't attend. We still saw our names in the paper and on television after that because of our roles in society and were dubbed the A-grade couple. It was changed to the A-grade family after we had our first and only child, Silvia.

She was a cute, red-haired, blue-eyed baby that only got cuter as time went on. Leo and I didn't have enough time for her, so we left her with nannies, language teachers, craft teachers and the like. When we did have time however, we tried to do our best, though it wasn't always enough. Silvia, being the understanding child that she was, never complained or fussed, even when she got older. She was so quiet most times that I got worried but shook it off as her just being a quiet kid. We left her sometimes in our sky-rise apartment in NY with a couple of help, which stayed far away from the main apartment.  

I still remember that day so vividly, like it was happening all over again and I was right in the middle of it. I got a call from the private security telling me to come back to NY as there was a problem. My mind immediately went to Silvia. I hurriedly told them to prepare the plane as we set out about an hour later. I remember driving to our apartment only to see Silvia, stained in blood from head to her knees, being handcuffed and taken away, while the bodies of three people; her music tutor and two of the maids were pushed into an ambulance. I remember screaming for my daughter and how she gave me the coldest glare before sitting down calmly in the cop car. I remember my husband calling and telling at me to get "my child under control" before she destroyed our reputation.

My brain hurts when all this passes through my mind again. It's like each sensation I felt in that moment comes back to hit me again and again each time I remember.

Going to the station was very scary. I had never been in one before and didn't know what to expect. And Silvia had killed three people. I didn't know the reason, but I had to save her. I had to. This was my fault, as my husband had said. I wasn't with her, couldn't be with her. I was still in a daze when they ushered me into the observation room overlooking the interrogation room. My daughter, covered up in blood and grime was all cleaned up and smiling.

The prosecutor began to read her rights, but she told him to skip it.

"I'm going to die anyway, so I don't need all this. I'm just going to explain why I did it, so you'd know that your 'A-grade family' is nothing but a lie." She looked over in my direction even though I knew she couldn't see me. "You're there right, mom? Listen to what happens in your house when you're not home."

My heart sunk.

"I've been sexually abused....like a total of 3-5 times yeah (excluding the ones I can't remember)..

I'm talking like from the time I was 4-6 year old till date...

So, the first one.

It was my mom's help. I was usually put in her care while mom and dad travelled and the girl had to stay in my room to watch over me. She'd put her boobs in my mouth and try rubbing my clit or whatever.This went over for years, even in broad daylight when no one else was around. She's the first dead one. The oldest body.

The second was another help who had joined my music tutor to fuck me. A threesome. With me, a girl who is barely 18. They'd wait to it was time for my music lesson, she'd feed me an aphrodisiac while they did all kind of sexually degrading things to me. I was tied, whipped, burned by candles, even had my skin sliced once in a while when the maid got her blood fetish. It was sickening."

My blood froze. My brain shit down for a moment, because I couldn't understand. Why was this happening to my daughter? Where was I all this time? A laughter, cold and cruel brought me back to reality.

"Do you know the worst part, mom?"

I didn't. I didn't want to know. From what I just heard, bile was rising up my throat. I didn't want to know anymore.

"Your dearest husband, Governor of the USA, has been fucking me since I turned 12, saying how you can't satisfy him." 

Different sounds roared in my ears. 

"No."

I didn't realize that was my own voice.

"I hope you die. I hate you for being oblivious. I hate you for trying to be the perfect woman, wife and mother when you don't even know what happens outside your bathroom. I hate you for-"

My world went blank after that.

I remember screams, remember how I called my husband, cursing his name. I remember being told to stop acting like a brat and focus on how to clean this mess. 

I remember sleeping in the car in front of the station till the next morning, when I heard voices.  

"What happened?" I asked as I headed inside, but as I saw the crowd in front of Silvia's cell, I already knew.

They said she smashed her head repeatedly on the wall till she died. I later found out she was pregnant with her father's child and had gotten STDs from her music tutor.

I fell to the ground as I saw the body of my daughter with the skull cracked open, screaming. I didn't think I'd ever stop.

I don't think I ever did stop.

It's why I'm in the best mental institution in Northern Ireland, trying to talk without the screams in my throat coming out. My husband is already re-married and I was declared dead to the world.

I don't think I'll ever stop screaming.

Writer Details:kenneth Daniella✍️

Location:Wellspring University,Edo State,Nigeria🇳🇬.