Beholding the beauty outside the window as they drive along the streets of La Rochelle, France. Leaning against the car's window, Astraea was absorbed in contemplation of everything that she had done these past weeks.
It had been more than 3 hours since she left her island. With the help of her cousin Daniel, she landed in France safely.
It was quite a journey. Getting here, she traveled through the sea and sky and land. Already feeling the exhaustion in her bones, hoping that the dubious watchful eyes of her father and brother wouldn't detect her internal turmoil. Not that they were ever concerned about her state of wellbeing.
Outside, the city seems to blur, light and colors gradually disappearing as they approach the place where it all began. Where she began, her roots, where she had spent her childhood.
She turned away from the window, let out a heavy sigh and pushed herself back on the seats, wanting to be badly buried in them.
This was her home, yet it never felt like what home is supposed to feel like.
The car stopped and a heavy feeling emerged.
Home wasn't supposed to feel dark and sad. It wasn't supposed to arise fear and dread, yet hers did.
She was late and yet again made another mistake.
"Madamoiselle, we have arrived. They are waiting". Her assigned driver opened the door for her.
In contrast to how jittery she felt, she took her time getting out of the car. She was already late, she didn't expect them to be waiting for her. It had been an hour since dinner had started. They would've been finished by now.
Walking at her own pace towards the inside of the old-fashioned manor, servants greeted her. In response, she smiled at them and greeted them back.
Reaching the double doors that led to the dining room, her ears were ringing in such an eerie quietness that the hallway gave her. It had always been too quiet for her comfort. It was lonely.
Gathering up courage, breathing in and out and putting on her prettiest smile, which she'd practiced all her life, it should be natural as of now.
Opening up the doors to the kitchen, she looked at the three full-grown, formally dressed men in varying dark-colored suites. Her brothers were sitting across one another by the edge of the long wooden dining table near the head of the table, where her Father sat.
Appearing not to even acknowledge her existence as he held one of his premium red wine. Indicating that they were done with dinner and it was time to immerse themselves in a series of conversations that she was never allowed to take part in, accompanied by the wine her brothers had brought for their father.
It was all competition about who would bring a better wine and propose a better deal.
It all made her remember the red wine she made Aziel drink a while ago. She wondered how he was doing now. Adding something to help him sleep faster and better, she was hoping the effects would last until she came back. As much as it was beyond her to drug any individual, she needed to.
Truly, it is uncivilized and unrefined of her, yet in comparison to what he has knowingly done, it is nothing.
Soothing her growing guilt by reminding herself that he had done worse, trying to justify what she had done. If she hasn't done what she has done, she won't be able to come here and they will find out what she's been doing in discrete these past weeks. She didn't want that.
"Look who has arrived."
Her second brother said mockingly as he twirled his glass of white wine, not even putting an effort to turn his head to greet her.
"There are no words to express how apologetic I am for being late. Father and Brothers. Please pardon this irresponsible girl for her mistakes."
Lowering her head, giving her most remorseful apology. Her pride seemed to be non-existence when it came to her family, she can only be sorry.
She was well educated on how precious her father's and brothers' time is, but she just had to be late for dinner, didn't she?
A family dinner that they on routine have every 2 weeks. No matter where they might be, they had to get their rear sat on the dining seat at the assigned time and place their father had set.
A tradition they began when she began primary school. She'd never missed a day of such torture. She even speculated about the probability that this practice was created to torment her.
As she grew older it had become more apparent to her that this family of hers never aimed to include her in their world. She'd always felt out of place with them, they'd always felt unreachable to the younger her and even more now.
They'd never even bother to call her or ask how she was. She could only meet them twice a month.
"Enough!"
Booming in his full voice, her oldest brother, Caison, directed towards her second brother, Castillo. Although they were the ones that gave her the most emotional scars and pain, even the slightest recognition made her heart warm and soft.
She still loved her family, very much.
"Thank you Brother"
She smiled at him and, in turn, her brother faced her. His green eyes seemed to scan over her, then turned away to ring a bell for the kitchen manager."
"Heat up the food and take it out for her. Astraea sit down beside me."
Gesturing her to the sit beside him.
"Yes, Monsieur."
Expressing a small bow after receiving his masters' instructions, but before he could even turn his heels and proceed to do what is tasked or could, Astraea even take a step forward. A breaking shatter of glass was heard throughout the large dining room.
"Looks like I overdid it."
All heads were turned towards the head table. Carlos Ross, Astraeas' father, who apparently banged a fragile wine glass on the table, breaking it into irregular pieces. Shards of glass penetrating his hard callous hands, little droplets of blood oozing from his little to medium-sized cuts.
Percieving her indifferent father's gaze towards her, goosebumps began to grow. Then her father raised his bleeding hand.
"She will be having no dinner tonight." Warning Astraea of the worse to come. " She is to assist me with my wound in my office.
Hand her first aid kit and everything necessary for my injury."
The kitchen manager was swift to act, in finding a first aid kit. While Astraea observed her brothers, who acted like they were unaware of what was to come, resuming to drink their glass of wine like nothing had occurred and her father, who was standing by his seat, getting rid of the glass debris that fell on him.
Cracking sounds of glass pierced the air as her father walked towards her, stepping on them. Her face already overworked mouth muscles, was beginning to collapse, her heart was beating rapidly, her sweat glands releasing adrenaline and cortisol. She was anxious about what was to come.
Arriving with hasty steps, the kitchen manager handed her the first aid kit. Grasping it tightly in her hands as she felt her father's eyes bore into her being.
"What are you waiting for? Go and wait for me in my office."
Cold sweats seemed to form in her back as her father spoke in his always callous tone towards her.
She was used to it, she reminded herself, nothing was new, yet she felt tensed and uptight, feeling her fathers scrutinying gaze.
"Yes father. Again I apologise."
She could only bow her head meekly and apologize for whatever it was she'd done.
'He knows everything.'
Forget dinner, her stomach was profusely aching due to the boiling rage her father gave. He was uncaring and aloof, she knew the degree of cruelness her father was adept at. She'd experienced it first hand, the mental and emotional torture, but what she had gone through was only the tip of the iceberg of the torment he made others suffer.
It wouldn't matter how slow she made her pace, she would still end up in her Fathers office.
Opening the doors slowly, it was dark and dready, the smell of furnished wood and old books swamped the air. Turning the light switch on, an almost yellow light illuminated the room.
His large desk was well kept as always, almost empty if not for the large brown folder that sat on top of it. The room was spotless of any unconventional mess.
Placing the first aid kit on the desk. Her eyes wandered in this place. She hasn't stepped a foot in this place for years. Nothing seemed new except a 50 x 50 inch oil painting of her Mother. Ever-still awestruck at how gorgeous she was. The woman on one of the empty walls of her father's office shared her grey eyes and dark raven hair before she dyed it blonde.
'I wonder how Father persuaded Grandpa to hand the painting over to him?' This portrait was treasured by the Spellmans, her mother's side of the family. Growing up she would see it in the family gallery, so it was perplexing how it got here.
"Such distasteful dye of hair."
Laced with bitterness and distaste, her father voiced out referring to her hair.
Shifting her attention towards the figure by the door, He father who had a small gun in his bleeding hand. Unsettled by such a sight, her father's insult over her dyed hair was ignored. Instead, numerous alarming scenarios went over her head with the possible purpose of the weapon he was holding.
"Why don't you open that folder, It is after all a gift I prepared solely for you."
Stepping into the room with his long legs, it only took a exhale for him to reach his desk and hand the folder himself to Astraea, now stained with blood, that gushed out from his hand.
Holding it in her grasp, she stared at her father as he carelessly drenched his bleeding hands with betadine, unfazed by the biting pain towards his wound.
"Father, I'll do it."
Overwhelmed with everything that's happening. She was disoriented about what to do.
"No Astraea. I want you to open my gift for you. I wouldn't want to be tended by a hand that is stained by the blood of a person who wants to kill me"
Palpitating, her heart was pounding so fast.
Her Father knew. He knew everything.
What can she expect? He was Carloss Ross. He controls the world. He control her brothers. He controls her.
"Father…"
Speechless, she is. There is no valid explanation that would appease her father. She could only open the gift he gave her, while her father tended to his wounds.
Aziel Claudius Han. A folder full of him and his life and his purpose.
Of course, her father was always 10-step ahead of them. He knew where she was all this time. She never had a sacred home that she believed she had.
Diverse amounts and types of pictures and documents were contained in the folder and it all centered on Aziel Han. Who he truly was before he became a monster.
The series of photos told the story she wanted to know and at the same time never wanted to know. A tale of Aziel Han.
Vile rose in her stomach. She wanted to vomit from seeing such graphic photos.
He murdered her. His mom. She was sure of it. A photo of the young Aziel sobbing as he held his mother dearest dacapiatated head near his chest, his heart. She could feel this child's love, sorrow, and hatred.
Her dad had murdered his mom in the most heinous, viscous, immoral way possible.
A sound of slap resonated in the room. She felt a stinging tingle in her cheek. Her father had slapped her.
"Crying over someone who had attempted to hurt your father? Whos child are you?"
She did't even feel the tears that were cascading from her eyes, hot and salty. Her heart ached, she felt agony in every cell of her body.
Why? Why? Why?
'Why does he have to torment such an innocent child? Instilling hatred and trauma that'll haunt him for the rest of his life.'
Kneeling with a thud on the carpeted floor, her knees and muscles felt weak. She was so drained and tired, yet she knew this was not the end.
"Father please, I'll end it, I'll hand him over to the authorities, punish me all you want, but please, please-" don't put him in such misery anymore, she wanted to say.
Begging wasn't strange to her. Lowering her head as she cried her heart out until she was numb.
She can never get used to it. The extreme despair her father chose to put her in.
A metal object hitting the carpeted floor sounded. Her Father tossed the gun right in front of her, as she felt him walk over to one of the leather sofas. Making himself comfortable as he uttered his final decision.
"2 months. Bring Aziels Han's bullet, impaled bleeding heart to me. Prove to me that your creativity will benefit me and our family, convince me that you truly are my daughter." pausing as he looked at his daughter's miserable state, "You won't disappoint me would you?"
Crawling toward her father, her head still lowered until he was in from of his legs.
"Father Please."
Trembling with the mental image he gave her. She is repulsed by the concept of being the reason of someone's death. She doesn't want to be like them.
'She will not be like them.' like a mantra she repeated over and over again.
Tapping his foot, he gave a small frown, appearing to be considerate of her. Lifting her chin with his foot, he bended a little and uttered.
"You don't want me to spill more blood, don't you? So give me his heart, my dear daughter, and I promise that I won't touch anyone else involved. Mind you, that favorite cousin of yours will also have to bear the consequences, no matter who he is, if things don't go the way I want."