This is a work of fiction; the names, characters, incidents, and places are the product of the author’s thoughts and imagination. Therefore, any resemblance or any similarity to actual people, either living or dead, environments, or events is coincidental.
Text copyright © 2018 by Safa Shaqsy
All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
To my mother.
I love you.
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Author’s Note
I’ve been keeping this story inside me for more than six years, because I thought it was a very hard subject to write about. But there was always a whisper in my ears telling me to go for it. I started writing books in 2015 and published several fiction books, but I never had the nerves to tell my story.
This is it, my truth.
This fiction novel is very dear to my heart, and there were times were I was aching while writing this, because it pulled me back to my dark past.
Some of the plot lines are fiction, but there are true emotions about having a relative who is ill and taking care of them.
I truly wished if I had exposed all of what I had to write, but this novel would have turned too dark and heavy. I had a few setbacks while writing this novel and a bit of writer’s block, but when I reached the end, I felt like it was the biggest gift to the universe.
This is for my dear family who went through a lot in the past, and still fighting to survive every day.
Celia is a very strong character, sometimes more than I am most days. She knows how to take care of herself despite the depressing conflicts that happened in her life.
We can do this.
Prologue
I’ve always felt like I had another me inside, hiding from the outside judges. With the world screaming, my outside shell is quiet and introverted, with a stiff facial expression to push unwanted situations, people and well, life, away. No one ever really understood me, or knew how to deal with me, because I used the shell to protect myself from everything and everyone.
Avoiding getting hurt was the safest route, and it was the way I dealt with life’s setbacks. They might have said I was aloof or quiet, but I was much more on the inside. I wished that the inside me would win one day, and I’ve tried from time to time to test the inside me, but the results weren’t pleasant.
A perfectionist is my other side, and I’ve learned that this happens with most girls my age. They feel insecure and turn to judge others to feel better, and life goes on.
We have our own egos.
One day, all of that changed.
My mother was diagnosed with dementia, and all hell broke loose. That was the day she’d started losing her memory, and we started losing her for good, little by little, like the particles of sand in an hourglass.
Every day, a new symptom appeared which confused us more. The doctors said it was rare, that it should have never happened to a woman in her forties. They sympathized, but couldn’t fully understand her condition. We’ve been from doctor to doctor, and we tried different medications on her. Nothing worked. The medications made her condition worse.
All that’s left of my family is a younger sister, a younger brother, and my father. Mom left us behind, and slipped into the wonderland of her brain. We never knew what her mind consistently told her, but we were damn sure that her world was messed up. From that day, I was the mother at home, looking after everyone.
That’s what I remember.
Chapter One
Morning was abnormal—not one of the mornings my mum used to start with fried eggs and bacon. Our morning consisted of hot coffee for my father and me, and the famous cereal and milk for my siblings.
We were in a hurry, and my hair was tied up in a knot, with the PJ’s I wore last night after I was out for two hours with my boyfriend, Kent. My eyes were still half-shut. I even forgot to put sugar in my coffee.
I groaned. “Dad, can you pass me the sugar?”
“You’re always out late with your boyfriend, and then you complain about how tired you are,” he pointed out.
I scratched my head and put sugar in my coffee, when I saw my bro, Adam, teasing Amelia with his tongue out, while I stirred my coffee with a spoon.
Amelia punched his arm real hard. “Idiot!” she screamed. She was strong for a nine-year-old. Amelia always had two sides, the aggressive side and loving side. But we never knew which one would pop up at any moment. She was unpredictable to the max.
As for Adam, he liked to tease her and see her cry. It was his number one mission in life.
“I came back at seven,” I replied to Dad’s earlier words, and rolled my eyes as I sipped my coffee.
The next minute, Amelia screamed and ran away from the dining table. Adam laughed out loud.
My father shook his head and ordered, “You better stop it, Adam, or I’ll take your iPad.”
Adam threw the spoon on the table’s surface and walked to the front door. Amelia was sitting down in the staircase, covering her face and crying.
Now, my father went to Amelia and sat down beside her. “Mimi, you can calm down now, Adam will not tease you again, okay?”
He used her nickname—Mimi—which always managed to set her right. When Amelia hugged
