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He launched himself at her with a final, desperate attack, his body a blur of fire and fury. His fist, glowing with fiery intensity, connected with her mask in a powerful strike. The mask cracked, and with a roar, Ivan unleashed * Flame Burst *, the force shattering the mask completely.
Rain began to fall, cooling the scorching earth and dripping from his hair into his eyes, followed by claps of thunder. The sudden downpour extinguished the surrounding flames, the smoke dissipating as the forest began to breathe again
The Sinner fell to the ground, her mask broken, and Ivan stood over her, panting heavily. The flames around them began to die down, leaving behind a smoldering wasteland. He looked down at the Sinner, his heart pounding in his chest
As the rain washed away the spoot and the blood. Ivan eyes widened in shock and recognition. "R-Rebecca?"
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[Continue]
Rebecca Flashback.
I remember the first time I realized I was different. I was six years old, playing in the vast gardens of the Garrison estate. The flowers were in full bloom, their colors vibrant under the summer sun. I was chasing butterflies, laughing as they flitted just out of reach. That was when Elizabeth, my mom's butler, found me.
"Rebecca," she said, her voice cold and sharp like a winter's wind. "Come inside. Your parents need to talk to you."
I followed her obediently, my joy quickly replaced by a sense of foreboding. Inside the grand mansion, the walls seemed to close in on me. Elizabeth led me to a room I had never been allowed to enter before. Inside, my father, Jerry Garrison, sat behind a massive oak desk, his expression stern. My mother, Christabell, and the other family members were also present.
"Do you know why you're here?" he asked, his voice devoid of warmth.
I shook my head, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Rebecca," he began, "you're old enough to understand the truth."
"What truth, Dad?" I asked, my voice trembling with innocence and fear. He couldn't say it. His fist clenched as if he was holding something back. "What truth?" I asked again, more insistent.
Then my mother shouted, "Jerry, tell your daughter the goddamn truth!" Her voice sent chills down my spine.
"What the hell do you want me to say?" he stood up, slamming his hand on the table. "She is very young to understand!" Jerry shouted back angrily, his voice like thunder reverberating through the room. His face turned red, veins bulging on his forehead.
He made that face he used when he was angry—the face that no one in the family could stand up to. Only my mom could shake it off.
Tears welled up in her eyes. "You are the one who decided to tell her the truth. If she is old enough, it's not my fault you have a daughter with that whore of yours, you filthy husband."
"You call me filthy? Remember your place, woman, and where you were before you called yourself a Garrison!"
"Enough!" Uncle Mike shouted, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "It's over. Jerry, it's time to tell your bastard daughter the truth before it's too late. The longer you hide it, the worse it will get."
Jerry's face softened. "Fuck," he muttered, his fist clenched desperately. He rubbed his hair, his face red, and slammed the table once again, making everyone jump. "Fuck it! Fuck!!"
"Tell her now," Uncle Mike insisted, his heavy stare silencing the room.
Jerry turned his face to me. I stood there, my little heart pounding in my chest, wearing my favorite yellow dress with white lace. My face must have been a mixture of confusion and fear.
"Rebecca," he began, his voice softer but no less impactful, "you are not Christabell daughter. Your real mother was someone else, a prostitute. Your real mom died a few years ago, and I took you in as family. I'm sorry to say this, but it was my foolishness that brought you here. You are not a Garrison."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I had always felt like an outsider, but hearing it confirmed was something else entirely. My heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces.
"No, I am a Garrison!" I shouted, tears streaming down my face. "This is my family, and I am a Garrison. And my mother is not dead. Christabell is my mother!"
I looked to Christabell, hoping for some sign of affection or support, but she stared at me with anger, her eyes hard and unyielding.
She pointed her hand at me, her face twisted with disgust. "How dare you call me your mother? Do you think I would give birth to a filthy rat like you? You disgust me. If you want to meet your mother, you can go back to hell. Daughter of a whore. You are a constant reminder of Jerry's betrayal," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You don't belong here."
The words were like daggers, piercing my heart. Tears filled my eyes, and I couldn't control them anymore as they streamed down my cheeks. I turned and ran out of the room, my vision blurred by my tears. The mansion's hallways felt like a maze, each turn leading to more pain.
I could hear the muffled voices of my family arguing behind me, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to get away from the lies, the pain, and the rejection. I ran until my legs gave out, collapsing in a secluded corner of the garden where I had once felt safe and happy. Now, it was just a place to hide my broken heart.
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(To be continued in Part Two)