21. Ghosts

Angela walked into her house rubbing her eyes. That evening had taken a toll on her. Taking a life was never easy but taking the life of a family member was worse. All she wanted was to get to her room, lock the door and drink herself to oblivion maybe she would be able to forget just for this one night the atrocities she has committed so far. The lights in the living room came on and she glanced up. Her husband sat on the sofa a glass of whiskey in one hand. His tie was loosened the top buttons of his shirt open. "Took an early flight back?" she asked exhausted. Lawrence stood up and walked to her and before she could react, he slapped her across the face so hard she staggered back in shock. "Protecting her is your responsibility that was the deal," Lawrence said in rage. Angela looked up at him slowly and without warning reached for his arm and twisted hard. Lawrence yelped in pain but Angela did not let up until he was kneeling on the floor before her panting in pain. "For a second there I thought to cut off this hand but then I remembered you will need it to swear when you become president," she said almost conversationally. "Did you know husband that until recently the sound of your voice still made me shiver and a touch from you even if insincere made me tremble. That you still affected me after all you did to me made me boil with anger. You play the victim claiming I have wronged you but you forget you wronged me first. You made me into what I am today. Never ever hit me again or you will regret it as surely as the sun rises each day and just to remind you." She grabbed two of his fingers and broke them and then released him. Lawrence fell to the floor screaming. Stacey and three guards rushed into the living room and stopped taking in the scene. Angela was rubbing her forehead her eyes closed. "Take him to his room and have someone call the doctor to reset his fingers and don't give him any painkillers. Inform Sang' to bring the car around I will be staying at the country house for a few days," Angela said.

"Are you sure? Shirleen lives there," Stacey reminded her.

"As long as I don't see her that will be fine. It is better than staying here with him. At this rate I will end up killing him and that will ruin my plans. I just need a few days of silence."

"As you wish," Stacey said and left the room as the guards took Lawrence to his room. Angela heaved in a relaxed sigh and walked to the whiskey decanter and poured herself a glass which she downed in one gulp.

Adrian heard a car pull into the driveway and he turned to look at the woman sleeping in his arms. He carefully pulled away from her and walked to the window pulling back the curtains. Angela had just stepped out of the Mercedes and was staring at the huge mansion, Stacey close by. Angela's eyes turned to look straight at him as if she could feel his presence. For a moment there he panicked thinking Angela was at the house to get rid of Shirleen but logic stepped in just as fast calming him down. He stepped away from the window and quickly made his way downstairs. He met her at the foyer as she was taking off her coat. She turned to look at him an amused smile on her face, "My oh my, already spending the night together such progress both of you have made in your relationship," she said walking past him to the living room. She noticed he was following her closely and she burst into genuine amused laughter, "Don't worry I am not here to harm your girlfriend. I am just punishing my husband in the cruellest way I know how." He watched her as she walked around the living room as though inspecting but her body language had changed the minute she had started taking in the house. "This house holds my most painful memory. Being here is like being in a burning house," she whispered more to herself. "I guess for taking his life I have to be punished and this was the only way I could think about."

"I am sorry Madam," Adrian said, "It's just that I find myself a tad bit overprotective of her."

Angela waved her hand in dismissal as if it didn't matter to her one way or another, "Understandable. But you must remember Adrian that I promised you I won't touch even a single hair on her head as long as she doesn't ruin my plans."

"I remember and I will ensure she doesn't," he said.

"Good since we agree, I wish to find my bed in the east wing as far as possible from her. I believe that will also put your mind at ease." She turned without another word and made her way to the East wing followed closely by Stacey, her shadow. "And Adrian bring me a bottle of whiskey from the cellar," she said from the top of the stairs without glancing back. Adrian did as ordered and took a bottle of Jack Daniels to her room. He knocked on her door once before he was invited in. Angela was seated in front of the fireplace while Stacey was carefully laying a black night dress on the bed. "Place it on the table and you can both leave," Angela said dismissing them without glancing away from the fireplace. Immediately she heard the door close, Angela changed into her night dress and then moved back to the chair she had vacated. She poured herself a glass of whiskey and raised it up in salute, "Here is to you uncle may you and father burn in hell together," she said softly and gulped it down. "Keep my place warm for me. I am sure it will be beside both of you." She poured another glass and raised it up, "To your anniversary little angel," she whispered and gulped it down. That was when the tears she had been holding back poured down her face. Her heart-breaking sobs wracked through her body. She cried for the life she had taken that evening, she cried for the daughter she had lost in that very same house, she cried for the person she had once been, innocent and kind, a person she no longer was. She cried for what she had become and what she will be in the future and she cried for the husband she still loved and hated at the same time. Even after all these years she couldn't bring herself to forgive him because Shirleen was always there to remind her of his cruelty and betrayal. So for the rest of the night, that night being the only night in a year she could bring herself to break down and cry behind closed doors, she drunk herself to oblivion willing to forget the pain, the loss of her beloved child and the monster she became, just for that single night. At daybreak she would wake and sober up, she would then put on her mask and step forward until the next year when she will take off her mask again for a single night. Everyone has ghosts hers just happened to be the tormented and tortured ones.