I nod. I was despondent then. I wouldn't answer their questions. I didn't need to. They took their answers from my father. From blood tests and eye tests and reflexes and other things that were supposed to measure how sick I was in the head.
The answers to those tests are in my chart. The chart she carries with her now. She opens it up and reaches inside, flipping through to the back. And then she pulls out a piece of paper, sliding it across the desk towards me.
"Isabella, the reason Javi still lives on is because he is here with you right now. Inside of you. You are pregnant with his child."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Moldavia isthe same as it always was.
Shadowy. Secluded. Mysterious. But somehow, everything has changed.
Inside is dusty. Stagnant. A time capsule of our last moments together. Javi's bed is still unmade, where we slept together that night. The bandages remain on the bedside table, from when he mended me after I tried to escape. And the glass he brought me to take my pills remains, empty.
It is an ache unlike any other when I walk around this house. When I don't feel him here. I try to be strong. I try to remember everything I learned from my therapy. I want to hold on to the good memories and push forward. But it's hard when everything is so desolate around me.
It's hard when every time I have to breathe, it hurts.
His child grows inside of my belly. And I have to do this on my own. It cracks me open and makes me bleed all over again. But the worst pain comes when I visit the conservatory. When I see the roses have withered and died in his absence.
The once familiar scent that used to surround us no longer lives.
Even the house is in mourning. I can’t feel him here. I don't feel him here at all. I have to see him one more time. In the only way I can.
I walk to the bathroom, and I find the makeup case. The one where I stashed the tapes. The tapes that have haunted me for so long.
I don't know what's on these.
I don't know why they were hidden away from the others. But I have nothing left to lose now. I have nothing left to fear. The worst has already happened. There can be nothing on these tapes that’s worse than what I've already witnessed. That's what I tell myself as I walk to the projector.
They are numbered, so I start with the first. The projector sputters to life, but nothing plays on the screen. I try the next tape. And the next. And the next. They are all blank.
All along, they meant nothing.
There was nothing here. It doesn’t make sense. Why were they locked away?I can’t think about it anymore. I can’t focus.
I put on one of his tee shirts, and I cry. But only for an hour. That's all I will allow myself. Because I have to keep moving forward. I have to, for my baby. For our baby.
I have to make a home. I have to play my music. I have to stay busy. And most importantly...
I have to plan a funeral.
My father comesto the door in the afternoon, his shoulders falling in relief when I answer it.
"Isa, I was so worried. You should not have run off like that."
"I’m an adult," I answer. "And I was free to go. I did not need your permission."
His eyes are sad when he looks at me. I am sad too. I don't know how it came to this. I don't know who this man is.
"I know what you did," I tell him.
"I did not kill him, Isa," he insists. "I know you find this difficult to understand, but I cared for Javi. I cared for him like a son. And I am mourning his death too..."
"I'm not talking about that.”
Guilt washes over his face. He tugs at his collar, his mind silently formulating the next untruth.
"Don't lie to me," I bluff. "I've seen the tapes."