"I see." You thought over his words. It was making more sense now. You never should have believed that you would be free, but there was still hope. Suddenly, your eyes were opened. The hope lay in a man you didn't even know. They lay in a stroke of a pen and a dream to be free. It wouldn't surprise you that your father would leak your location if you refused. He wasn't the kind to take no for an answer and he would craft a perfectly made revenge scheme. He was a man who hunted his own blood if it made his wallet thicker. You hated him.
You leaned back in the chair. You weren't a small child anymore. You took a deep breath and picked up the pen. "I hate you, and I hope you live to regret this."
But you would play the part, you knew what needed to be done. Reasonable. You were quite reasonable.
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Your father was dressed as if he were going to a funeral; all black with a golden rose pin on his jacket. The car rumbled down the road, far from the city, in a neighborhood hidden from eye. It was a neighborhood belonging to the Min family.
The insignia of your family was a golden rose. Its meaning had been taught to you from a young age. The golden rose was a sort of rest in peace, a sayonara, representative of a funeral. It meant a person was worth the effort of a funeral; for two men to sweat and dig a 6 foot hole and for six men to lower the casket into the ground. You think this morbid idea was what made you stray away from the family business. You always had other more creative pursuits, and your mother had encouraged it.
The car came to a slow stop outside a mansion with a hilltop view of the neighborhood and the city in the distance. Your father got out and gestured roughly for you to follow. You were dressed in white, although it was no wedding dress. Your father had explained there was no time for a wedding, things were getting tense between his gang and the others nearby.
Faces peaked out of windows to watch the scene. Your mother, ever the silent mouse, sat next to you with her hands placed softly on her lap. You weren't sure who you despised more; the man who sold you, or the woman who let it happen.
Mom! The desperate word echoed through your brain. As you stepped out of the car, your mother went to follow. However, the tall man you called a father held up his hand.
"Stay in the car." He ordered.
"Mom?" Even through all this, you still begged for your mom like a kid searching for safety. You reached out and brushed her fingertips as your father yanked you back by your free hand. You didn't think you'd ever forget her wide eyes. You were sure you were both thinking the same thing.
Will this be the last time I see her?
You approached the door, your heart pounded mercilessly. As much as you tried to halt the pounding in your chest, as much as you tried to stay composed, you found yourself heaving deep breaths. And when your father offered his hand to hold, you held on and didn't let go. You felt small again, standing in front of these tall, menacing, dark oak doors. The doorbell rang a thunderous noise across the neighborhood and stormed through the valley like a battlecry.
