Love Began with the First Meeting
Chapter 987 Extra Story 125 Of Aaron Tension

"You know what I mean," Aaron's gaze, generally unsympathetic and indifferent as such, evoked little sympathy. "You are Ximena's mother."

Freya was so astonished by his words that the shock left her face in an incredulous expression. Gasping in amazement, her mouth gaped open, her face went as white as a sheet and her eyes widened like two giant saucers. "You...you.......I am afraid that I can't understand what you mean," shaking her head in utter disbelief, she said. Much to her consternation, Freya stammered and her words came in short pauses. A glossy sheen coated her eyes that wasn't there before and her thoughts scattered like there was an electrical storm in her head. Aaron started up at her with a fiery, angry gaze, and his face contorted in disapproval and disgust.

"I don't care whether you understand it or not," Still in a calm tone he continued, "I want you to leave right now!" Looking at her tangled expression, he breathed a sigh of resignation and said softly, "Ximena enjoys your company, but... do you have any idea how Ximena will feel if the truth about her past is exposed to the public?"

Freya froze at his words, gazing at his cold face. For a moment she could't figure out a reply. She stuttered, "I..."

Aaron rose to his feet, fetched the investigation files laying on the table and placed it before her. Quickly glancing at him, she picked up the large envelope that had detailed personal information about Ximena's birth and the tears kept streaming down her face as she carefully read through the pages. It was a detailed documentation and she read through every word in every page with great importance. The more she read, the harder it was for her to contain her emotions.

"Although I am going to do my best to keep the past buried... Ximena is sure to replace out the truth some day as long as you are here." He spoke with calm voice, not surrendering any sign of his emotional state. "Crash!"

Suddenly, a bolt of white hot lightning broke the utter blackness, cleaving the night in parts, but just for the briefest of moments. His words echoed in her mind, seeping into her heart and poisoning her from within. She was daunted both by the memories of the past and the uncertainty of the future.

"Crash!"

Another streak of hot silver split the sky, and the downpour began. The air grew heavy and the humidity pressed down, suffocating. The scent of rain was dark and heady. The rain poured down over the city with a roar. Each icy, cold drops sloshed down as if it were trying to wash the world clean.

Freya, however, stood out there in the rain, benumbed and unstirred by the rain or cars hurtling past carelessly, their rubber wheels splashing in the wide puddles. Aaron tried to have someone give her a ride back home, but she refused. In truth, she was utterly devastated to process the people and the world around her.

'Do you have any idea how Ximena will feel if the past gets exposed to the public?'

Thick icy sheets of rain obscured Freya's vision. The painful memories that had been buried in the darkest corners of her mind from over 20 years ago, had now come back to haunt her.

"Number: 2083; Fact: Murder!" The Warden cast her a cold glare with pure disdain, "You are sentenced to 15 years of imprisonment in a maximum security jail."

She had her mug shot taken from different angles with a sign that had her serial number, date and other information tying her to the incident. She listened as the warden made the rules and policies clear to her and then she was place in a prison cell which accommodated ten other prisoners.

"So I've heard that you've been sentenced to prison on a charge of murder

?" A female prison inmate leaning against the bed, looked askance at Freya as she waded in.

"You don't look like a murderer." Another cynical girl looked at Freya unscrupulously, "You seem pretty cool." She walked over and put her hands on Freya's shoulder, "Would you like join us and be my friend? I am in here on homicide as well." She raised her eyes and continued, "I killed my stepfather. What about you?"

"I killed my father's first wife," replied Freya. Her voice still had that slow, troublous timbre.

11

Freya held in her hand the things she had been handed out. Her face, which should have taken on the beauty of youth now wore the color of paleness. She bit her lower lip, moved her arm away from the girl without being noticed, and then, gritting her teeth, she made her way to the innermost bed which was closed to the toilet. As she walked past the other nine beds, the inmates glared at her, wondering what, someone like her, was doing on their turf. Suddenly, someone stretched out a foot and tripped Freya and she went straight down to the floor.

A chuckle broke out amongst the inmates and one of them winked at the others, who immediately understood her intention, as they had communicated in that manner habitually. Not one of them came forward to help as Freya even as she struggled on the ground like a wounded animal. Freya swept her hands, gathering all her belongings from the floor, braced herself on a bedpost and staggered to her feet.

Perhaps in an act of defiance, she didn't utter a single cry for help, or any noise, for that matter, which was considered arrogant and disrespectful by the others. This, to some extent, could be the reason of her tragic life later in prison.

She was treated with nothing but contempt. Bullied and beaten by her peers. The abuse, however, didn't stop there. One of them threw her belongings in a toilet and flushed it. Someone even went as far as urinating on her bed. There was no limit to how far they would go to make things more difficult than they already were. Life in a real prison was worlds apart from how it was perceived on television. Alienated as an outcast, she struggled to live under the mercy of the other inmates and the warden.

"Bah!"

Someone spat in her face, she squeezed her fingers to her palms and ignored the deliberate abuse. The shock made her heart skip a beat. Would it make a difference to the world if her heart stopped beating at all? Could the trauma of physical abuse outweigh mental agony?!

She would get pushed, punched and kicked on a daily basis and she would endure it all with a dull look in her eyes. It was no longer a matter of 'who' abused her, it had become a matter of 'when'. She figured it would stop when they would get tired.

"Oh no! She is bleeding!" Someone screamed out loud, looking at Freya writhing on the ground in pain.

"There's blood on her pants!" Another inmate said, "Maybe she is just menstruating ?"

The pain was excruciating.

Pain rushed through her body like an igniting fire. Her eyes squeezed closed as her face contorted. Never had she ever experienced such pain in her life. She could feel her head spinning and she grabbed a fistful of her hair as if pulling on it helped to ease the pain. She pushed her hand to her abdomen, overwhelming pain controlled her actions.

Against the heavy downpour, she heard the wailing of the ambulance sirens that night. The fragments of her memories flashed sights from the inside of an ambulance before she eventually fell into darkness.

When she regained consciousness and fluttered her eyes open, her hands were cuffed to the bedpost.

"She's two months pregnant. We've checked the baby in her womb. All is well."☐☐☐☐☐☐☐