“Chapter 9: Betrayal Part III: “Curtailed Chronicle Exposed
”
We made up a plan, and set up near the place where Lia had called
us. I called my father up,
explaining the situation. At St.
Thomas’ graveyard, I entered alone, knowing that Lia would make a sudden move
to jolt me. I kept still. The rustling of foliage and the tempo of the breeze
was so ethereal that I too felt that something was perverted. Lia stood there in
front of me wearing a tank top and belted jeans. “So Kenan, glad you could
make it.” she sneered craftily.
“Make it quick, I don’t like the look of this place.” I had
memorized whatever Shania had told me to. “Uh, Uh, so soon, I would like a
meeting and then I’ll let you go.” “No, I don’t want to do any sort of
talk with you. Get to the subject.” “We are getting to it, just relax, and
make yourself comfortable.” “Why are you doing this?” I asked, my anger
increasing. “Would you like to
know?” she scoffed.
“Lyonell, i.e. my late mother, was a part of your family, until
one day your father kicked her out of the house and they got separated. Mom
couldn’t say anything, but she could rely on someone. She remarried, even then
your father made her life a living hell!” Lia exclaimed. “Lia!” I finally
slapped her. “Kenan, face the facts.” and she slapped me back.
“And not to mention, when I was in grade four, you were my malevolent
bully ever, remember poor ol Faishalia Campbell and her brother Jeanery
Campbell. Your younger who were tormented and suffered under your anguish.”
Lia said, straightening her hair her eyes full of rage. “Jeanery and Faishalia
died, years ago.”
“No they didn’t, unfortunately, they survived. Faishalia who
is now known as Lia and Jeanery now known as Jean suffered the most excruciating
misery that all of you could have ever estimated. Both of us were left high and
dry alone near the peak of a dangerous cliff. Remember that stop on the field
trip, when the tire punctured, you dragged us out of the bus and pushed us over
the cliff. To you we had been dead, isn’t it. But no, we survived and my
sister who too was with us, remember Rena Campbell, died.”
“Lia, we meant no harm, it was an accident.” I said
frightened, traumatized after knowing everything quite clear. “And whose to
blame?” Lia asked, her eyes watery. With that she deserted me in the graveyard
and as she went, she placed a garland of flowers on a grave entitled “Renazze
Campbell, Died July 12th 1969.” Today was 12th July too, but now, twenty five
years has passed for that, feeling culpable I narrated Shania and Dad about it.
They told me not to disclose it openly or else there would be a court case. But
keeping it a secret would deteriorate the remorse. Who’s to
blame.................