A/N: Stephanie Meyer own Twilight
Cora P.O
'I've lived in Africa my whole life. That is, until I was sold to my husband and we moved to Portugal.' I spoke with a low shaky voice.
The room had a warm color and music was playing on the background.
Tryna find my place, some place, oh I, oh I, oh I
And I drink a little more than recommended
This world ain't exactly what my heart expected
Tryna find my way someway, oh I, oh I, oh I
This was my 12th appointment with Mrs. Angela Grey, my shrink.
I had refused disclosing my past ever since I can remember, but now it couldn't refuse it. At the hearing the judge had been loud and clear,
"Cora will attend 55 appointments with Mrs. Angela Grey. Mrs. Grey is the best in her field and she will be happy to assist you in anyway she can."
Later on, I learnt that Angela was finishing her PhD and needed to gather more data about cases like mine - severe traumas - notwithstanding the countless attempts of suicide.
Angela spoke, bringing me to the present,
'Did you moved to Portugal after the weeding or stayed in Africa for a while?'
'No. First his wife had to die, only then was he prepared to move back to Portugal.'
'So, you were sold to a married man.
Did you two, his wife and yourself live in the same house?' Angela's voice was calm.
Discretely she looked at the paperwork on her secretary confirming what I had already suspected - Cora Cullen victim of slavery.
Her question made me laugh. I smiled politely and said,
"His wife didn't even know I existed.
You see, I was 16 years old when I first met him.
We black girls were the white's housemaids, I was in charge of the Madame's house food, keep her white arrogant children fed.
I always bought food in the same place, Mr. Rocha's store.
He was a white man, but at least the only white man I knew.
His store was a couple of miles from the house, rather secluded from the market, but as I said he was a nice man.
One day as I was buying some fruit at Mr. Rocha's store and heard laughter.
Mr. Rocha smiled politely and told me to look outside. And I did.
Outside there were 8 white men ogling me.
And there he was... His face had a furious expression and his eyes were dark.
He looked serious.
As I turned to pay, I saw him leave his group and walk straight to the store.
I was young and naive and had no idea how men behaved.
I knew he wanted me and I knew his friends were also interested, so I behaved like I thought I could.
I left the store rapidly and started walking in the opposite direction.
You should have seen me; I was so sure of my curvy body, my tight shirt and skirt hugging my curves perfectly.
I heard him running behind me, so I started giving my ass a shake to make him go crazy with jealousy. I knew his friends had been watching this whole time..."
I paused for a while. Age was catching up to me. My mouth was dry and my head heavy. Angela gave me a reassuring smile.
She was as clueless as I was back then. I continued,
'I was pretty, young and too naive.
In a few seconds he caught up to me.
He grabbed my arm so tight I thought it was going to break.
He spun me around and slapped me hard. My groceries felt to the floor and my nose bleeding.
Then he looked at me and said, "You think you can play me like that you Negro! Come!"
He grabbed my wrist, pulled me to his chest and dragged me back to the store.
The laughter gone.
He threw me against the store's front window, pulled down my skirt and said out loud,
"You are mine now. The same goes for your black cunt."
He grabbed my hair, shoved my face against the window with his right hand, and with his left unzipped his trousers.
From the corner of my eye, for just a second, I saw him grabbing his dick.
I can only remember the pain, my screams, the smell of blood, my blood, down my legs and him whispering to me,
"Your black cunt belongs to me now, there is no one here to save you slave. You will learn to NEVER EVER provoke me again.'
I took another deep breath.
Angela's eyes were big, her face pale. For a few seconds she broke our gaze to look for the glass of water on her secretary. I'm certain she heard worse before, yet this was the best memory I had of my husband.
I am 78 years old. I had 13 children of which only 9 survived. I feel old and for the first time in a long time, I am finally free.
Whoa, c'est la vie,
Maybe something's wrong with me
But whoa, at least I am free, oh oh, I am free
Yeah, who, c'es la vie
Maybe something's wrong with me
But, whoa, at least I am free, oh, oh I am free.
I am free of him, but not the pain he caused me; that still stayed with me.
This last 10 years have been unbearable the pain is getting worse.
I looked up and Angela had a concerned look on her face. Her words matched her worry,
'If you want to stop for a while we can, sharing this is not easy.'
I like Angela she is nice, I thought. I continued,
'I knew all of us would be sold, eventually, but I always hoped I would be loved and be able to love who bought me.'
'Did he buy you after what happened? Angela spoke. I shook my head vigorously,
'No. He raped me for 2 years.
I remember clearly the day he came to Madame's house looking for my father to pay for his slave, me
How ironic is that? He rapes me, uses me and then 2 years later decides to buy me.
Did you know I had a crush on my neighbor?
He was older, a black men and on top of it all married with kids.
Did you know blacks weren't suppose to mingle with their own race?' I said sarcastically. 'No, we girls belonged to the powerful, arrogant and white Portuguese men.
Those that came and colonized Mozambique, Angola and other countries without permission…
They took our lands, our houses, our children, our mothers, everything.
You see, my kids and grandkids are Portuguese after all.'
'Did you ever talked to that neighbor, the crush?' Angela was trying to keep me calm, using this topic to keep me from talking about my husband.
Angela always tried to stay positive. So far, from all the shrinks I had been to, she was the only one I had ever told my past.
She had already been to my house a couple of times. We had developed a relationship that was more than patient-doctor, she wanted me to be happy, and she was my friend. The thought brought a smile to my face as I replied,
'You would never think of asking that if you had met my father, or his wife for that matter! Let's not even mention my husband. He would have beaten me to death if that thought crossed his mind.' I chuckled mildly.
Angela was hurting, she cared for me and her unease was evident. Her eyes were dark green and her chicks always bright red, slightly blushed.
Angela said,
'I see. Do you still remember his face, did you ever stop loving him?'
'His face? Yes I remember. I don't think I ever loved him, but the idea of him was what kept me going.
I've only ever slept with one man, my husband.
I am sure, as hell I never loved him; I have one sentiment for him only - pure hatred. I pray for his death.
I can't tell you if I ever felt…love.
I do not know and I certainly do not care. It does not change the fact that I never loved or was loved.
I've never felt the warmth my kids and grandkids talk about, I have never kissed or been kissed.'
I had shared too much for one day; my mouth was dry and my hands shaking.
I had never spoken about this to anyone and I had never said any of this out loud.
Tears started swelling up in my right eye, tripping down my cheek.
I was so angry with myself. How dare he have such power over me after so many years?
I hate him, but mostly I hate myself for letting him do this to me.
I never thought possible that another human could inflict so much pain in another human. But he had. So much pain...
He took so much from me.
I can still feel his belt on me, his horrible stare, his heavy breathing continuously hitting me.
A monster.
An animal.
Angela saw my internal struggle. She got up, put her notes on her secretary and walked in my direction.
She sat next to me, neither speaking nor looking. Waiting.
He was gone now.
I could breathe and go about my life without watching my every step or being constantly on guard.
I took another deep breath, looked up and saw Angela deep in thought, looking out the window.
I cleared my throat. She smiled brightly and said,
'You are one of the reasons why I like so much my job.
I love listening you; you are an inspiration, not just for me, but for all the women out there.
You had a terrible past, you went through hell and back, but you are stronger than you give yourself credit for.'
She turned to me, stretched her legs and rested her elbow on the sofa's arm and said,
'Our time is almost up; I think we shared enough for one day sweetheart.
Your beautiful blond helper must be outside waiting for you.
Speaking of which I think this one is a keeper.' She laughed.
'You say that for all of them, Mrs. Grey.
But I will let you on a little secret.'
Angela raised an eyebrow and I proceeded.
'Between us, I think you are right Rosalie is a keeper. Her reading skills are quite impressive and I like her tea!'
Angela gave a careless laugh, filling the room with positive energy. She nodded in agreement. She opened the door and gave me a warm playful squeeze on my right cheek - our usual farewell.
'Play nice granny, Rosalie is one hot chick!' she said out loud, letting Rosalie know we were finished.
Angela got closer to my ear and whispered,
'Next session we will focus on not being loved, because lady, both you and I know I love you, and you sure as hell know you have a bunch of grandkids who love you deeply, including your beautiful daughter"
Rosalie sat up, winked at both of us and said,
'Come on Cora, let's take you home and have a nice cup of tea.'
I gave a little chuckle, noticing Rosalie's "thumb ups" towards Angela's direction.
Finally I had some people around me that I could start trusting.
He was gone and I, I was free.
I could see the world now, even if only with one eye - my right eye.
I hope you enjoyed my second chapter.
Cora is such a nice lady and she is the one keeping all those family secrets.
Stay tune!
Reviews are welcome 3
Music playing:
Rudimental, "Free"
xo, LittleShadow91
