Episode 3
The Candice problem
"I'm giving you 2 months, lady," the dirty man explained. "Your daughter stole 2000 silver coins from us; we want our money or the girl is done for," he growled, pushing Candice to the floor. It has been over a year since she skipped town, so the price has doubled. Be quick to get it to us."
He turned his back and left.
"Or else, we can't promise what'll come to you."
"Candice.." She mumbled as she closed the door, "It's really you. Wait a minute." She scuttled into the house.
Damien looked down at her as she lay on the floor with a bitter look on her face—not a solemn look, no, a bitter look filled with hate.
"Here," Elora rushed into the room with a blanket and put it over her. "I thought you looked cold."
"Shut up," she growled, looking up at Elora with cold, beady eyes. "Get this shit off me," she threw the blanket away, picking herself up from the floor. "Just because I came hear like this doesn't mean you have to pity me." She grew dangerously close to her. "I am not your daughter."
"If so," he intervened, pushing her away from his mother. "Why bring your problems here? If she isn't your mother, then pay off your own debt."
"You got a new one," she snickered. "Another kid to play house with," she eyed him from head to toe. "You're not special just because I adopted you, okay? You're still a bastard just like me."
"Candice!" She spat at her, which made her jump. Elora had never raised her voice at her, ever.
"Get out of my way." She shivered and passed them to her room, a room Eelora had left untouched since she left.
"Ma," his eyes drifted to her. She looked a bit shaken, but rightfully so, her long-lost daughter returned with a heavy debt and an even worse attitude back into their lives.
"4000 silver..." She mumbled,"I can't even get half of that if I get a loan, and the flower shop isn't going to bring much either."
"We'll figure out something." He grabbed her shoulders reassuringly. "I know we will."
"Right," she nodded. "It's too early to give up hope; we can do this."
"Yeah," he smiled wearily at her.
5 weeks later
"Well, if it isn't our boy wonder." A kid with a huge bandage on his cheek walked up to him.
"Richie..." Damien rose his eyes from his book to meet his
He was under a tree during recess, reading one of the many literature books that he borrowed from the library; he had already burned through the other books, and after actively avoiding the literature section, the time finally came.
"What's our pretty boy reading?"
"Have you come for another beating?" he closed his book. "You haven't quite healed from the last one, but what's one more bump?"
"Big talk," he stepped back. "You sure have a lot of pride, considering the fact that you're dirt poor."
"Yes, and so?"
"Ohh, so tough," he chuckled. "Your orphan curse sure is strong; it shooed your own parents away and is somehow making that miserable woman's life worse."
His demeanor changed; he was fine with them badmouthing him, but not his mother.
"The sad old woman had gone door to door on her knees begging for money. She came to mine yesterday. What a sorry sight. Maybe if you accompanied her, then I would have fished a few coins from my pocket," he cackled, pulling out a hand full of coins from his pockets. "My mother always did say I should give to the needy." He threw the coins at him.
They hit him on the face, one very close to his eye in fact, but he didn't flinch; he didn't move a muscle; he just kept his eyes glued on him. He had no idea his mother had been doing that; he wondered how long and how many times she must have gotten on her knees. It was heartbreaking to think about.
"What, are you going to cry, pretty boy?"
'pretty boy', the nickname everyone had given him at school; he wasn't particularly handsome; the only way to explain his physique was pretty, tall with almost effeminate features, black hair, and hazel green eyes; plus, he was extremely smart, so that added to his appeal.
He put his book down on the bench, got down on one knee, and began to pick the coins.
"seriously?" The boy snickered with a scowl on his face. "On your knees too, like a mother like a son, I guess," he laughed, looking down at him. His irritatingly loud voice was drawing attention to them; people were turning heads to look at him. Soon enough, the whole playground was fixated on them.
It wasn't very surprising; the majority of the male population hated him.
He picked all the coins and placed them on the bench. He stood up, dusting the specs of sand from his fingertip.
"You're right, like a mother like a son, I should go help her raise funds."
"Right, take your little orphaned feet and go beg for alms."
"I will," he said, tightening his fist and taking a heavy step forward, planting a heavy fist on his good cheek, throwing him half away across the schoolyard. Screams erupted as he landed on the floor.
He picked up his book and the coins and stuffed them in his pocket.
"Thanks for the funds, Richie," he waved as he headed towards the school gate. He had hit him just hard enough that it didn't knock him unconscious, but then again, just hard enough that it took out some of his teeth. "Cherish that punch; that's the last one you'll ever get from me," his voice echoed as he left the school gates.
As Richie finally came to, he swore on his life that he saw that boy's eyes glow purple as he punched him, but everyone thought he was hysterical; he did just get chucked halfway down a yard.
2 weeks later
"We just have one more week." Elora breathed
"And 3000 silver." Damien grinned at her, "That's more than half, ma, we're good."
"You really think so. We did good, huh?" He could see tears of joy forming in her eyes.
"We did it, mom," he hugged her tightly.
They had just come back from the market; she had sold off her jewelry, all except for her engagement and wedding ring; she wore those around her neck on a chain.
They had basically emptied the house from selling everything; the last thing there was to sell was the house, and they weren't foolish enough to do that.
As well as their funds, they had also emptied their energy. Since he dropped out of school 2 weeks ago, the both of them had been working nonstop. It broke her heart to see her baby leave school, but he convinced her he'd be alright; she already had a plan in her head that when all this was over she would enroll him again; she wouldn't let him be a dropout because of her and her daughter.
"Where is Candice anyway?" she let go of him.
"Who knows?" he looked away; her name alone irritated him. "Probably out drinking herself away."
"Probably," she repeated. That was the norm for Candice, but today, she had a bad feeling.