Dark Secrets of the Past
Author: Evelyne Sants
Genre: Suspense
Date Published: May 5, 2015
Book Description:
Marion, a carefree and rebellious young girl, will discover her childhood, her parents, her entire life has been built on lies.
She will somehow try to rebuild her past, as heavy and painful as it is, in order to move forward and find the child she gave up for adoption before leaving for India for seven years in hopes of forgetting.
While there, she will meet extraordinary people, such as Shilpa, Nazma, Paoli, who will take her on a beautiful and difficult adventure across this country and culture that she barely knows. Unfortunately, the suffering caused by her child's absence will never disappear.
Upon returning home, her only thought will be to find her child. In her quest for the truth, she will take every risk, discovering a terrifying secret. She will put her life in danger while confronting a terrible revenge.
Will she live up to the incredible journey that awaits her? There's only one solution – face the past in order to better understand the present, understand the present to better live the future.
Author: Evelyne Sants
Genre: Suspense
Date Published: May 5, 2015
Book Description:
Marion, a carefree and rebellious young girl, will discover her childhood, her parents, her entire life has been built on lies.
She will somehow try to rebuild her past, as heavy and painful as it is, in order to move forward and find the child she gave up for adoption before leaving for India for seven years in hopes of forgetting.
While there, she will meet extraordinary people, such as Shilpa, Nazma, Paoli, who will take her on a beautiful and difficult adventure across this country and culture that she barely knows. Unfortunately, the suffering caused by her child's absence will never disappear.
Upon returning home, her only thought will be to find her child. In her quest for the truth, she will take every risk, discovering a terrifying secret. She will put her life in danger while confronting a terrible revenge.
Will she live up to the incredible journey that awaits her? There's only one solution – face the past in order to better understand the present, understand the present to better live the future.
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Helen understood perfectly well why her daughter wanted so badly to go to the party. Her rebellion was understandable. But she also knew that what her daughter considered the unreasonable whims of a tired and bitter man, were in fact a little more complicated than that.
Helen had become small and muted over the years. The light in her deep, troubling eyes had gone out long ago. The woman who had loved to laugh, filling the room with joy, was now trapped in walls of silence, weighed down with a burden she would never get rid of.
“Marion, believe me, I understand your frustration. But you know how your father is. It's only going to cause a fight if you insist.”
“You're afraid of him, Mom! You've always been afraid, haven't you? Good God! He's your husband! You've got to be able to stand up to him for once. It's as if you owe him your life or something. It's unbelievable!”
But that was exactly the problem. Perhaps Helen didn't owe him her life, but she felt she owed him nonetheless. She had made a mistake and she would always have to make up for it. She could not stand up to him or even annoy him.
“Fine! Looking at your worried and anxious face, I'll take care of it myself!”
Marion stormed off to her room, determined to not give in this time. She left her mother alone with her thoughts and her sadness, to not be able to stand up for the daughter she loved and offer her a happier and easier life.
Later that evening, as usual, Marion heard her father come in. She ran down the stairs to speak with him before he sprawled out on the living room couch, falling asleep for the night.
He was so predictable and the opportunities to talk with him were so rare. His presence in the house was felt solely when he exercised an overbearing authority. He never showed Marion any affection, never an “I love you, Marion, my little girl.”
John hung up his old gray overcoat on the hall-stand in the entrance way. In fact, the worn-out topcoat was the only thing he took off when he came into the house. Most of the time he did not even bother to undress before passing out on the couch.
“Dad...?” Marion hesitated.
“Hey, you're still up? It's late. You should be in bed.”
Marion did not back down. She stood in front of him, watching him, wondering what he did when he was out so late, why he came home drunk every night. He reeked of alcohol. She could smell it from across the room. He was no longer a man. He was an empty soul, a distant gaze, the lines in his face carved out by suffering and bad living, a complete waste of a life.
“I know, Dad. I was waiting up for you. I wanted to ask you something.”
Marion felt intimidated by this man who always had an imposing and powerful air about him.
“Yes? What is it? I'm tired. I'm going lie down.”
John turned his back on his daughter, as usual, as always, to go stretch out on the living room couch.
“Dad, I'd like to go to a party in town on Saturday night and...”
John stood up furiously, glaring threateningly into Marion's eyes.
“No way! You hear me?”
“But Dad! I'm going to be eighteen years old. I'm no longer a child and I need to experience all the things the world has to offer at my age.”
“Oh really? Going out to a party all dressed up like a whore, that's what you need to experience?”
Helen had gotten up. Of course she hadn't been able to sleep. Worried about her daughter, she stood quietly against the living room door.
“How can you call me a whore? You don't even trust your own daughter, and you want to know why? Because you've done nothing but drink all these years, forgetting I even exist. You don't know me at all!”
John's temper snapped at the insult from Marion who was now sobbing. Lunging out, he slapped her so hard she fell to the floor.
Shocked, Marion did not get up, holding her head between her hands. She did not understand what was happening. Of all the things he had done in the past, he had never hit her before.
All of a sudden John's eyes were no longer empty. Filled with hatred and rage, he raised a trembling hand above Marion, ready to hit again, if it had not been for Helen who stepped in to face him.
How dare she defy him? She who had never stood up to him. She who owed him everything. Consumed with rage, he forgot Marion. But this small insignificant woman, she was going to pay for all the years of torment and silence.
Helen saw in her husband's eyes all the hatred he felt for her and all the bitterness. But no matter what, she had to protect her daughter. Marion would not pay for the mistakes of the past.
Excerpt
Helen looked at her daughter with heartache. There was no denying it. Marion had indeed become a beautiful young woman. Her eyes sparkling, her skin smooth, a flawless complexion, life bursting out of a perfect body, all the energy and vitality of her seventeen years was translated in her every movement.
“Mom! Say something! Please! If you're so afraid of him, I'll tell him. I can't take this anymore. Anyway, there won't be a problem for getting home after the party. Lucy and her parents are going. I'll go with them and I'll sleep over at Lucy's. There is no reason for dad to be against it.”
“Mom! Say something! Please! If you're so afraid of him, I'll tell him. I can't take this anymore. Anyway, there won't be a problem for getting home after the party. Lucy and her parents are going. I'll go with them and I'll sleep over at Lucy's. There is no reason for dad to be against it.”
Helen understood perfectly well why her daughter wanted so badly to go to the party. Her rebellion was understandable. But she also knew that what her daughter considered the unreasonable whims of a tired and bitter man, were in fact a little more complicated than that.
Helen had become small and muted over the years. The light in her deep, troubling eyes had gone out long ago. The woman who had loved to laugh, filling the room with joy, was now trapped in walls of silence, weighed down with a burden she would never get rid of.
“Marion, believe me, I understand your frustration. But you know how your father is. It's only going to cause a fight if you insist.”
“You're afraid of him, Mom! You've always been afraid, haven't you? Good God! He's your husband! You've got to be able to stand up to him for once. It's as if you owe him your life or something. It's unbelievable!”
But that was exactly the problem. Perhaps Helen didn't owe him her life, but she felt she owed him nonetheless. She had made a mistake and she would always have to make up for it. She could not stand up to him or even annoy him.
“Fine! Looking at your worried and anxious face, I'll take care of it myself!”
Marion stormed off to her room, determined to not give in this time. She left her mother alone with her thoughts and her sadness, to not be able to stand up for the daughter she loved and offer her a happier and easier life.
Later that evening, as usual, Marion heard her father come in. She ran down the stairs to speak with him before he sprawled out on the living room couch, falling asleep for the night.
He was so predictable and the opportunities to talk with him were so rare. His presence in the house was felt solely when he exercised an overbearing authority. He never showed Marion any affection, never an “I love you, Marion, my little girl.”
John hung up his old gray overcoat on the hall-stand in the entrance way. In fact, the worn-out topcoat was the only thing he took off when he came into the house. Most of the time he did not even bother to undress before passing out on the couch.
“Dad...?” Marion hesitated.
“Hey, you're still up? It's late. You should be in bed.”
Marion did not back down. She stood in front of him, watching him, wondering what he did when he was out so late, why he came home drunk every night. He reeked of alcohol. She could smell it from across the room. He was no longer a man. He was an empty soul, a distant gaze, the lines in his face carved out by suffering and bad living, a complete waste of a life.
“I know, Dad. I was waiting up for you. I wanted to ask you something.”
Marion felt intimidated by this man who always had an imposing and powerful air about him.
“Yes? What is it? I'm tired. I'm going lie down.”
John turned his back on his daughter, as usual, as always, to go stretch out on the living room couch.
“Dad, I'd like to go to a party in town on Saturday night and...”
John stood up furiously, glaring threateningly into Marion's eyes.
“No way! You hear me?”
“But Dad! I'm going to be eighteen years old. I'm no longer a child and I need to experience all the things the world has to offer at my age.”
“Oh really? Going out to a party all dressed up like a whore, that's what you need to experience?”
Helen had gotten up. Of course she hadn't been able to sleep. Worried about her daughter, she stood quietly against the living room door.
“How can you call me a whore? You don't even trust your own daughter, and you want to know why? Because you've done nothing but drink all these years, forgetting I even exist. You don't know me at all!”
John's temper snapped at the insult from Marion who was now sobbing. Lunging out, he slapped her so hard she fell to the floor.
Shocked, Marion did not get up, holding her head between her hands. She did not understand what was happening. Of all the things he had done in the past, he had never hit her before.
All of a sudden John's eyes were no longer empty. Filled with hatred and rage, he raised a trembling hand above Marion, ready to hit again, if it had not been for Helen who stepped in to face him.
How dare she defy him? She who had never stood up to him. She who owed him everything. Consumed with rage, he forgot Marion. But this small insignificant woman, she was going to pay for all the years of torment and silence.
Helen saw in her husband's eyes all the hatred he felt for her and all the bitterness. But no matter what, she had to protect her daughter. Marion would not pay for the mistakes of the past.
Poetry was my first discovery and my first passion. Putting words together that, in theory, did not go together, giving them breath, a new life, was a revelation for me. Yet despite this, my imagination tormented my mind. The desire to go further, to be able to create characters, to give them a destiny, emotions, an imaginary reality, illuminated my literary path.
Thus, “Dark Secrets of the Past” was born, a book which made me tremble many times while writing.
Carried away by this momentum, I could not return to my poems. This experience gave me the certainty that what I truly want to do is write passionate stories in order to share them with readers.
I hope this book carries and transports you as far as it did me while I was writing it.
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