"It's funny," I began sinking into my chair as I stared at the seemingly endless ocean, "For most people, money is the one solution to all their problems, but for me, it is the opposite. From as early as I could remember, all my pain and suffering were deemed lesser compared to that of others, simply because my family was rich. Poor little rich girl, what does she know of actual suffering, they would say, in different words, but the meaning remained the same. My father mercilessly beating me until my skin gave way is one of the earliest memories I have of him. The sheer terror as this six-foot, well-rounded man went to town on me over the smallest thing was one of my core memories. I must have been four or five when it first happened, and what terrified me more was that, even though I had been in a room filled with people, not one of them came to my rescue."
Although I was simply recounting something from my past, that moment felt painfully raw as if talking about my feelings at the time, somehow resurrected the experience. I took a shuddering breath in as images of my father's whip repeatedly biting into my skin flooded my mind. Mercy's eyes were trained on me, and despite the curiosity painted on her face, she remained silent, waiting for me to continue.
"I know what you are thinking, parents discipline their kids all the time. You would be right, except for the fact that I had to be taken to the hospital for stitches and casts several times under the guise of playground accidents. They all knew, the hospital staff who recognized me because of how regularly I came for treatment, the workers at our house, and yet they all said nothing. I was a little girl, unaware of how the world worked. I was a vulnerable child in need of protection, but not a single person came forward to help me. That's the one lesson that was engraved into me during my formative years, no matter how hard I screamed, no one would come to rescue me, my pain was something to be hidden and dismissed." I paused as a wave of self-pity washed over me, and I felt disappointed and abandoned all over again.
"My mother, beautiful Ruth, must have been overjoyed the day her scapegoat was born. I was invisible to her unless she needed me to take a fall for something. My father's missing money, her drugs during the police raid, and her inability to attend to her duties. It didn't matter if it was big or small, my mother used every opportunity to throw me under the bus to save herself. To be honest, she was the kindest one in my family, at least she did not seek to physically break me. No, Ruth reserved that privilege for my father; her duty was to make sure I knew that I was unwanted. Before this is over, I want to ask her what my offense was, why she hated me but loved my brother..." My voice began to waver, so I cleared my throat, not daring to look at Mercy in case I saw pity in her eyes.
"Brian, my dear brother, embodied the best of my parents, which was why he succeeded where they had failed. The boy broke me both physically and mentally in a way so vile it caused irreparable damage. The three boys that you helped me track are his friends, and on my sixteenth birthday, he gave me a present. While other girls celebrate one more step to womanhood I had my virginity broken by three horny boys that treated me with as much consideration as a toy. The first thrust drew a scream from me, it was just as painful as it was intrusive. I spent the first three minutes or less screaming into that hotel room. My brother and his friends had the foresight to blast music, and given that it was the only occupied premium suite on the floor, no one came to shut them down. It was as if the universe itself had conspired against me. After screaming my lungs out, I remained silent as my body was invaded, and during that ordeal, my mind kept wandering back to my father's beating. It was as if I had been sentenced to a life of selective deafness that affected those around me. It didn't matter how much I screamed, no one was ever going to save me." I folded my legs to get away from the sun, but the action after my words seemed defensive, as if I was withdrawing into my shell again. So, despite the heat, I stretched out my legs again, not willing, even metaphorically, to go back to the pathetic girl I used to be.
"I met Claire when I was around ten years old. She saw how much pain I was going through, and despite being the same age as me, she appointed herself my protector. Even after being assaulted, neither of my parents showed up for me in the hospital. It was the same hospital that I had visited several times courtesy of my father, and just as they had kept quiet about my previous abuse, they only tended to my wounds and asked no questions. I would have ended my life then had it not been for Claire. That girl was more of a family to me than my actual family. Thanks to her, I managed to crawl through life until I could stand again. I could have said something to my parents, who never once inquired or even went to the police, but somehow the belief that no one in the world could help me had been rooted so deeply within me that I never even tried. So I clung to Claire instead, and with her, my life was marginally tolerable, like water in the desert; she kept me whole." A sob was dragged from my chest as I recalled just how big a role Claire played in my life. She had given me everything, and I couldn't even give her the one thing she needed from me.
"She told me she loved me with her last dying breath, she told me she loved me, and only then did I truly grasp what she meant. She followed me everywhere and filled holes in my life I didn't know existed, and yet, I remained oblivious to her feelings for me. Every time I spoke against romantic love, she echoed my sentiments even though she had feelings for me. After graduation, we moved back to Mombasa but got our apartment so that I didn't have to go back home. With her by my side, I forgot about the cruelty I suffered at my family's hands. I was even grateful for my father, who agreed to lease me an apartment that allowed us to be together. She was like the sun, and as long as she was in my life, the darkness of my past receded into a locked corner of my mind. Every happy memory I had featured Claire; she truly was my soulmate, and I only realized that after I had lost her." I stole a glance at Mercy, and she was still looking at me, but there wasn't a trace of pity in her eyes, and I strangely felt grateful for that.
"If she had died in a car accident, I would have chalked it up to the universe being against me, but she died defending me from a man my father had taken the initiative to tie me to. I should have known he was up to something when he invited me to a family gathering and strong-armed me into attending. It turns out I was invited to my engagement party, which did not end as well as they expected. After a few rough encounters, I confided in Claire, and of course, she went out to try and save me as she always had. Her case was the first time I gained the courage to seek help, and after a few months, the case was dropped, in large part thanks to my father. Maybe I am being punished for something I did in my past life, but Claire deserved better than me, and she never got the chance to discover that. I have taken my share of misery, making excuses for others, never extending the same courtesy to myself. It's too late to change the past, but there is still time to make them all pay for causing me pain. I am going to have revenge for both Claire and me. After all, there is no one else coming to save me."
I concluded my melodramatic monologue feeling a little foolish for laying my soul bare, but also slightly relieved having shared my story with another person. I wiped the tears silently falling from my face, but refused to look away from the restless ocean. I was more comfortable sharing my pain than I was showing my weakness to others. I could not change the past, but at the very least, I could pretend it did not affect me. Having shared my story and motives, there was no room left for pretense. Mercy knew just how broken I was, and that scared me.
"Well, that sounds as good a reason as any to me," Mercy finally said. "You know me, the first sign of trouble, and I have all my claws out. You have put up with more than most people would, and it doesn't matter if others dismiss your pain; at the very least, you owe yourself an apology, but after we take them all down."
I finally looked at Mercy, and there wasn't a hint of sadness in those eyes. If anything, she looked excited at the prospect of ruining other people's lives. She was looking at the ocean, rubbing her hands with glee like some Disney villain, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"You are insane, you know that, right?" I said between my laughter.
"Sanity is highly overrated in my opinion. So I found a ledger in the old man's laptop, and given its contents, he should have enforced more rigid security measures. It contains a list of at least a hundred top politicians and businessmen whom he helped evade the law. Just half of the list can get you your revenge and then some. I don't know how you picked him, but you couldn't have chosen a better target."
Joseph's main appeal had been the information he had, which I was sure would help me take down Mathew's family. The fact that he was my brother's direct superior had been the icing on the cake. I knew he had ammunition I could use against Mathew, but I had only expected to find information on his laptop to blackmail him into helping me take them down. What Mercy had discovered, this ledger, made my plan a lot easier than I had originally anticipated.
"You know me. I am all for taking down the patriarchy and those who deserve it, so I am going to help you. On the condition that you let me stay here with you guys," I whipped my head around, taken aback by her request. It's much safer and easier to conspire in person. There is less of a paper trail."