Alexandra Valkyrie

Chapter 2

First there was one. . . then there was another. The sound of water droplets hitting against the asphalt echoed loudly in my brain. The next thing I knew, I was already soaked in the rain.

It was also raining, that day, when Dad went home, bloody, crying, like I’ve never seen before. What could have made my father cry, the man who I thought never feared anything, the man who never felt sadness, no pain, no sorrow, because his life was perfect. Tears immediately streaked down my cheeks when I saw him. Cora leapt under the storm, ran towards him, shook him, almost ripping his clothes apart, and screamed: “Where is she? Where is she?”

I was just frozen on the doorway when Dad crumpled to the ground, crying and cursing furiously at the sky, as if someone was up there, laughing at him. Cora was right beside him, dumbfounded, confused, and even amidst the rain, I could see her tears. And from that moment, I immediately knew that my life would change.

But still, I couldn’t accept it.

Mom’s death was supposed to be the end of it. We should not have let her death rip our family apart. We still had one another. I just don’t understand why Dad insisted on crying for our mother, who was already dead, than smiling for his daughters who were still alive. And now, because of him, Cora’s gone, along with my hopes that we can still be a happy family.  

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I think I have finally given up on searching for my sister when I spent three days walking along the highway without eating anything. She might be really far away now, considering she might have had several minutes head-start or she could have rode the bus to nowhere which I really have no courage of doing.

So I decided to just go to this place, Maplewood, the nearest place where I could eat something and dry my clothes. Sometimes, I would think about going home to my father, but then the whole running away epiphany thing would be useless.

I wandered on the streets for several days surviving on stolen fruits and one cheeseburger meal a day since I didn’t bring much money with me. During afternoons, I would then sit by the park and swindle some money from passers-by which I do through begging.

“I’m an orphan,” I would murmur and pretend to wipe tears from my face. “My parents died. I lost the house to the bank. I’ve got no relatives, no money, no food to eat. Please help.”

It works sixty percent of the time. When I melt to the ground and explode in tears, a hundred percent.

“Stand up,” the man said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “That won’t work on me. I won’t give you any money.”

I stared up at him. I really wanted to see his face, but the pocketbook he was reading was in the way. He was silently reading on the lone bench on the park when I decided to ask money from him.

“I’ve been watching you for days, now,” he murmured. “You’re good.”

I just remained on my position, somewhat confounded. When I finally accepted the fact that it was a failed venture, I reluctantly stood up and began walking away from him. Looks like I’m going to have to find another park then.

“Hey wait.”

I jolted when somebody suddenly grabbed me by the arm. I was just about to hit him when I noticed he was holding the same pocketbook. He was younger than I expected, maybe just as old as I was, dark-haired and he was almost a foot taller than me. I wanted to break free but his grip was just too strong. I tried harder but he just let go of me anyway.

“You know---“ he hesitated. “I don’t think you know that the main reason people hand you money is because you’re cute.”

I scowled at him. I was flattered. He was a bit cute himself, but I still scowled at him.