Surrounded yet lonely. Expressive yet misunderstood. Mixed feelings of sadness and grudge pierced my heart at each progress we made towards a destination, only unknown to me. My fifteen years old self wanted to scream, but I guess even that would be turned against me.
“You went too far this time Rhonda. You going to grandma for the holidays…” I remembered my mother telling me the week before.
This is how I found myself forced to meet a woman I never knew, a woman avoided by her own daughter yet trusted enough to take care of me. My father drove silently, battling an anxiety he struggled to hide as if he expected an impending doom to befall us.
I could not believe my eyes when we arrived at the secluded little town that would be my prison for the next two weeks. I expected a completely boring place devoid of any means of entertainment, but I felt like leaving a big city for an amusement park.
Around twelve minutes after our arrival, my father finally parked in front of Grandma’s house. We found her asleep, seated in a rocking chair on the porch. Easy deal, I can definitely handle her, I thought, smirking while my father gently called and shook her to wake her up.
Grandma opened her eyes and just smiled, you know, the kind of little and gentle smile only old people know the recipe of. My father introduced us to each other then did something far from reassuring. Whether it was tea, biscuits, coffee, cake or any other thing, he declined every offer Grandma made to him and bolted out of the place, not even helping me with my bags, as if he just came to dump me there.
She remained unfazed by such an attitude and kept her sympathetic smile on for the rest of the afternoon. We discussed about my mother’s childhood and the basics revolving around my teenage life, before I retreated to my former mom’s bedroom to elaborate my first plan.
At 8pm, I decided that it was time to explore the surroundings and opened the window to make my escape, however:
“Rhonda?” I heard her calling from behind me while I already had one leg out.
I did not hear her approach, not even open the door, but she stood there, with her trademark little smile on to make me understand that she was not offended by my misbehaving.
“Remember why you’re here sweetie. You have to behave, because grandma is watching. Always.” She said, before closing the door.
How the hell did she do that? I wondered. I concluded that there had to be a good reason why my much younger parents trusted a frail and older lady to keep me in check. Well, let us wait for the late hours of the night and see if Grandma is still awake to watch after me as she intends to do.
At 2am, after almost dying of impatience, I once again opened the window to make my escape. Before I could put one leg out, I heard a noise coming from the living room. How the hell can she still be awake at this hour? I thought. I had to ensure that she does not foil my plans for the second time. However, on that Tuesday, December 20th 1994, I was about to experience the scariest and strangest night of my life.
I quietly opened the door to investigate, then crept in the direction of the noises. I hid behind the wall then peeked and widened my eyes to what I saw. A hooded and armed man, dressed with somber clothes was busy going through my grandma’s belongings. He then spoke to another man out of my sight in a language unknown to me, further increasing the dread that made my heart skip beats.
My first idea was to escape that hell through my bedroom window but I thought that I could not just leave my grandma behind, therefore, as silently as I could, I went to her room, or rather, entered another world. The walls were covered by complex symbols made of circles and diamonds.
“Grandma, grandma Lizbeth? Grandma?” I called, shaking her.
“What is it dear? What is it?” She responded after waking up, smiling to me.
“There are men in the house.”
“What?”
“Men in the house. Robbers, they have guns.”
“Oh poor baby.” She said making space on her bed for me. “Come on, come and sleep.” She added.
“What?” I asked, bewildered.
“Sleep.” She said again, displaying her usual smile that only added more creepiness to the situation.
“No way! There are men in the house we have to—” I tried suggesting but stopped when her smile vanished from her face.
“Rhonda. Lie down and sleep.” She said in the coldest tone I ever heard.
I lied down next to her, thinking that the woman had to be insane. She started humming while passing her hand through my hair, trying to make me sleep. At that moment, the burglars tried to open the door that I did not remember locking. I let out a gasp but grandma shushed me.
They tried to push open the door to no avail as my eyes could no longer hold tears. If they open that door, we are dead, I thought. I trembled throughout the ordeal, but grandma remained calm and kept humming me to sleeo. I do not know how it happened, but after a few minutes, I fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of people talking and walking around in the house. I came out of the room and saw several police officers busy doing various things without even noticing me. I progressed to the living room and saw grandma talking to one of the officers.
“Look at all this blood Harry! Who will clean up all this mess?” Grandma asked him.
“Don’t worry Lizbeth, we’ll arrange something for that.” The officer replied, while coroners transported two bodies out of the house. The men were dressed in somber clothes and were completely disfigured.
“Ooooh my little princess, I’m so sorry that we woke you up. Go and brush your teeth quickly. I made cookies for you and I want you to eat them all. They are delicious.” She said with a bright smile as if nothing was going on.
I looked at the mess in the living room, the blood on the floor, the two bodies or should I say what remained of the two burglars being loaded in a vehicle, then at my grandmother, apparently trying to dismiss all that scenery. I sighed, shook my head, and told myself that those holidays were going to be very long.