22
fear
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The ticking of the clock that hung on the wall taunting me as the gears of my head move to form an answer. Sweat rolled down the side of my forehead as the men in front of me anticipated for my response. Yes or no? I could easily deny and say that I'm not ready yet, but there must be a motive behind all this.
A proposal, this early?
"Don't you think this is too early?" I said. "I mean, we aren't even in love—"
"You get to develop feelings while you're engaged." My father pressed. I swung my head to his direction. "If you say yes to him our status will uplift once again,"
So this was all about their fucking status? To uprise along with the Philadelphian-Koenig mafia. My eyes met my father's hard ones, though he says I get to choose it felt like I had no choice but to accept. Is this why Stavros paid off the family's debts? There's a motive behind this along with strengthening our alliance with them.
I didn't trust the way his eyes looked at me with such emotions: a tinge of adoration and determination. Nor did I feel credence at the stitched brows of my father. Judiciously through my own knowledge and morals, I knew I'm against the thought of marrying someone you barely spend time with. This is how the female leads in cliché films feel? The pressure weighing upon them as the lives of their families are counting on them or the reputation of their names. Is this why Stavros rushed to be in a relationship with me, had he even been keeping quiet about it or did he just not want me to know?
I shift my freight on my left foot. My mouth agapes, collecting my thoughts as quick as I'm allowed. "I'm not quite sure yet..." His shoulders sag. My father's eyes broaden at my answer.
"Surely, you'll say yes. Won't you darling?"
"What's the catch, papa?" I caught Stavros' hand tighten into a fist. Veering my vision back to my impatient father. "I thought you'd never give anyone your blessing until I was sure? What happened to your mind, are you going insane?"
"Stavros, go and take a walk for a moment. I'd like to talk to my daughter alone,"
"Yes, sir."
He rose from kneeling on the floor, adjusting his suit. A chaste kiss on my cheek before seeing himself out. The sound of the door shutting close, I'm faced with my father standing in front me. I haven't even noticed nor have I heard him stand up. The stench of alcohol and tabacco reeked on him. His eyes bloodshot, I couldn't believe his eyes. I didn't want to anyway. I never saw my father like this even in his worst and stressful days.
"What's wrong with you, huh?" his wide eyes made me fear him. His hands grasp on the flesh of my arms rigidly, squeezing me to pain.
All my life, my father had never lift a single finger on me. He never hit me and he never abused me mentally. Always took care of me, he's a gentle person around him. Hitherto, the man I'm seeing right now... is a whole new person. Like Stavros, he's changed. I no longer knew the both of them.
"Huh?! Answer me!"
The adrenaline flew over my veins like a carp through the river, but I couldn't move a single muscle, not even to scream. The absolute horror completely paralyzed me, and the more I thought about run away, or simply moving a bit, the more I felt discouraged and utterly terrified.
As much as I tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from my throat in the form of a silent scream. The beads of water started falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. He swung his hand across my cheek and I tried to scream, but my voice was melted by the palm of his hand.
"What the fuck, theios!" The familiar voice of my cousin was all I heard. He pushed my father away from me as he enveloped me in his arms. A calloused hand caresses my face. "You hit her, are you insane?!"
"You tell her to accept his proposal!"
"No," he yells out. "You don't fucking force her in something she doesn't want to do! What happened to being happy about her choices and not forcing her to marry a made man?!"
The muffled sobs wracked against my chest. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. I succumbed to the darkness calling to me. Only the memory of my father's loving voice in mind.
"Papa!" Twelve year-old me calls out to my father. "Papa, look!"
My hand closed into a fist as I wait for him to turn my way. There were a lot of men in the house today, most of them littered with tattoos drawn on their skin. Some of them also tattooed, but not with drawings instead with scars. Oh to be young and not have a single care in the world, I would do anything to have it again. I tripped on the shoe of a tall, burly man. Bidding my apologies, I run to my papa standing behind his desk as men swarmed the room.
"Papa, papa!"
"Yes, dear?" his soothing voice sang in my ears as he captures my tiny body in an embrace.
"Look," unrolling my fist open, I reveal a small blue caterpillar that rest on the palm of my hand. "I named him: Sky! 'Cause he's blue like the sky. See, see!" I thrust my small hand closer to his face so he could see the creature a bit more.
"That's very nice, darling. But, you're gonna have to let it go once it starts to form into a cocoon."
"Cocoon? But, it's a worm!"
His laughter echoes throughout the mediocre space. "No, baby. That's a caterpillar. They morph into beautiful colorful butterflies."
Without specticism, I threw the small critter away. It landed on top of a bald man's head. I grew extreme hatred for butterflies since the day my mother left. They reminded me of her, in a way. She's beautiful, yet she needs to be set free and she's seductive, she left us for another man. I told myself repeatedly, I didn't need her. All I needed was my papa. He'd never hurt me, he loves me and he'll never leave me like mama.
"Papa!" I cried out from the bathroom. Heavy footsteps reached my ears as the door slammed open to reveal my father breathing heavily.
His white shirt stained with a bit of blood, just like my underwear. I showed him my hand that's been bathed in blood that came from my privates. "I-I'm wounded."
He fainted. I squealed. Turns out, I just got my period. I relish the worry-free times with my father, the only family (aside from my cousin) left. Tears dribbled down my cheeks. Damocles wiping them away with his thumb.
"You're okay, Vena. Don't cry, shh." He cradled me in his arms.