No Exit
I'm Beatriz, nineteen years old, living in Portugal. My mother left when I was just two—or so my father claims. He's a business executive and the owner of a security firm. Our relationship has always been strained; business took precedence over his daughter, and he's been overly restrictive, even with my education, insisting I study at home.
I finished my studies at seventeen and haven't pursued university. I only have certificates in IT and accounting. My days are spent at our country mansion where I moved two years ago for my safety—at least that's what my father, the overprotective man he is, insists. Life here is dull, so I often pass time by pestering the staff, especially Fatima, my carer, who's the only one who takes me seriously.
(door sound)
I swiftly hide my phone.
Fatima: Aren't you asleep yet, Beatriz?
Beatriz: Can't seem to fall asleep.
Fatima: You need to, because your father's coming tomorrow to talk to you. If you're exhausted, guess whose fault it will be.
Beatriz: Okay, okay, I get it.
Fatima: I'm just looking out for you.
Beatriz: I'm not a child anymore, you know?
Fatima: Some things never change. You may be an adult, but you still have the mind of a child.
Beatriz: Hey, that's not funny!
Fatima: Get some rest, young lady; tomorrow's a big day.
Beatriz: Fine, goodnight.
Fatima: Goodnight.
(sound of door closing)
I haven't seen my father for four months; I'm anxious about what awaits me tomorrow. I'm clueless about what he wants to discuss but I know I need some rest.
The next day, I struggle to leave the comfort of my bed, eventually making my way to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and indulging in a long, relaxing shower before dressing in a short, loose outfit.
I know my father will disapprove of my attire, but annoying him seems to be the only way to remind him that he has a daughter.
Some time passes before Fatima tells me that my father has arrived and is in his office, and suggests I eat before meeting him. That's the plan. I descend to the dining hall but decide to eat in the kitchen with Jade, our cook and housekeeper instead.
Jade: You scared me! (hand on chest, breathes deeply)
Beatriz: I'm not that ugly, Jade. (smiles teasingly)
Jade: Your jokes... (gives an appraising look)
Beatriz: Okay, okay, I'll stop.
Jade: Your father won't be pleased with that outfit, young lady.
Beatriz: I don’t care. (I grab an apple and leave to talk to my father)
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Comments
Nïñí
nice story 👏
2024-05-31
1