“Say what?”

“Wha… what?”

“What you’re dying to say and/or ask: ‘But you’re so young to have depression – why? You don’t seem depressed to me’” she smirked and Bette and Alice looked down at her cups, not knowing what to say, ashamed of tihnking as all those people who had said to her the same lame things

“It’s fine, really. I’m used to it. It started a long time ago. Do you guys have time to hear the whole story or shall we leave it for another time?It’s your call”She aked

Everyone encouraged to tell her story, nodding.

“It started when my parents got separated, about 14 years ago. He still visited us almost everyday- us being my sister and me-. But his new girlfriend, NOT wife because my parents are not divorced, was this psycho bitch who called non-stoppingly everytime he came close to us and started yelling and insulting my mom. Mom just hung up the phone and rarely say a word,- fearing daddy would stop visiting us-, but I heard her cry herself to sleep every night” She paused as a lone tear ran down her cheek, catching it with a napkin

“But one day, after 3 years, she had enough and we moved to Argentina, away from the crime scene, away from the pain, from him, from all the disturbing calls, the haunting memories, everything. We stayed there for about a year and a half, which now I know was the time mom needed to heal and become stronger than anyone else in this planet. Her brother-my uncle- lives there and he was our greatest support during that time. I love him as a father, because he did the same for us. He didn’t have children of his own yet, so he treated us like his own flesh and blood. And that’s something I’ll always treasure in my heart… Anyway, when we came back, it was to a new beginning. Mom sold the old house, the old car, everything. And we moved to a new neighborhood, fancier, quieter, it was a kind of new neighborhood, so no one knew anyone. A new car, a new house, which I saw mom build since the foundations, a new school, the whole thing. That year I started college and I met great friends; unlike my sister, who became this quiet girl in school, who talked just what was necessary. She is 4 years older than me, so she remembers more than I do, that’s why it was harder for her, she was ‘daddy’s pride’ and ‘daddy’s princess’. I was ‘daddy’s genius’ cos’ he taught me to read and multiply when I was about 3 years old.” She said with a smile, remembering those days “He was a good man in the days he and mom were together. I’ll always treasure all the good memories of him. He loved cooking for us while mom did the cleaning. He loved us very much, always spoiling us, but in a good way, though. He bought us chocolates when we got top marks in school; and tvacations were a blast, he never repaired oon expenses when it came to us. ‘only the best for the best’ he used to say. Anyway, as I was saying, my sister was crashed, in a way, she blamed mom for pushing him away. She became this ‘cold heartless bitchy girl’ who cried whenever she thought no one was watching her. Sometimes, I did watch her, and I cried silently from where I was hidden”