Temptation: The Game Of Yores

VALERIANA

Age - 11 years old

I looked at Mama, trying hard to guess what was wrong with her. She was going back and forth in the living room, stopping just two paces away from the tall window to look outside. She had not slept nor eaten for the past two days.

Mama was a strong woman. She often told me how she had gone against her entire family to be with my papa. No one wanted her to marry him. She had told me it was because she came from a well-bred family, while Papa was still struggling. This was a valid enough reason, but I never ceased to wonder if there was more to it than that, because there had never been a day when we had gone empty-stomached, nor days when I wanted something and they could not give it to me.

“Is Papa coming back?” She flinched at the sound of my voice, and I stepped back.

She did not look right, and it scared me. They thought I was too small to understand their problems, but in my defence, I was already eleven and able to grasp more than they let on. If only they shared their sides, I could help them. Not knowing made me feel defenceless, and I hated it.

Despite the loud argument that took place between Mama and Papa two days ago, I knew they would resolve everything. They loved each other a lot. My Papa would never leave Mama. She was beautiful. She knew how to make good food, and always cared for me and him.

“Valeriana, come here.” She motioned with her hands to go near her and sat on Papa’s armchair. I stood in front of her, and she put her hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me, baby. I don’t know what’s going on, but all you need to know is that your papa is a good man and he loves you a lot. Never believe anyone else if they say he did not.”

“I know he loves me, and he loves you too.”

Her eyes flickered as she answered, “Yes, he does.” She tucked my curls behind my ears like she always did. It used to make me feel safe, but at this moment, it only made me agitated. “Oh, how I wish things were different.”

I did not understand what she meant. All I worried about was Papa, because otherwise, Mama would not have been like this. Did Papa leave Mama? It could not be.

Tears filled my eyes, and I asked again, “When will Papa come back?”

“I don’t know.”

“I want Papa to come back.”

“He will, cara mia. He can never stay away from us and—”

A series of hasty knocks landed on the door before Mama could speak. Mama quickly jumped to her feet and inched toward the door, with me following behind her. Deep within, I knew it was Papa, and when Mama opened the door, I jumped with excitement.

It was Papa.

The happiness in my body disappeared just as I noticed his face more clearly. There were cuts and bruises and blood everywhere. He looked like he had been beaten up and tortured.

Mama gasped, and her body began shaking. Papa cupped her face and said, “It’s me.” He nodded rigorously. “It’s me.”

I ran and clung to my papa’s waist. “Papa, how did you get hurt?”

“I’m fine, Princess.” He ran his hand over my head and then turned back to Mama. “We need to get going. Now.”

“What’s going on, Kai?” Mama’s voice was breaking. It was a surprise that she was still holding up.

“They announced me as a traitor, Isla. They were going to—” Papa’s gaze brushed me, and he stopped himself from saying what he was about to.

I wanted to know what was going on, but I could not ask Papa. I already knew what he was going to say.

“I don’t have time to explain now.” He shook his head and tried to pull Mama outside the house.

Mama did not budge. “But we haven’t even packed.”

“We don’t need our things, Isla,” Papa yelled out. I feared that they would get into an argument again like before, and Papa would disappear for another two days. He took a long breath and added, “We just need to get out of here.”

“And go where?” Mama sounded very confused, and so was I.

I had friends here, and all my diaries and dolls were here. If we left without them, I would be devastated.

“We can go anywhere, but we cannot stay here.” Papa moved his hands to her shoulders. “Do you trust me, Isla?” She nodded without hesitation. “Then let’s go.”

Papa could barely walk down the stairs. His wounds were too deep. Who would do this to him and why? My papa was a calm and controlled man who knew exactly what to say and when. At least that was what Mama used to say… that Papa was brilliant at what he did, which is why he was honoured and obeyed.

I never understood his job. He always stated that it was not safe for me to know and that his work had a way of affecting people and getting into their hearts, but he never let his work sway him away from us. We were his only family since Grandmama died a few years after Grandpapa passed away.

My mama did not have anyone either. She never talked about her family in detail either, only that she had a mother and a father who loved her until she fell in love. She had chosen my father as her life, and had loved him since. Not a lot of people liked her. Most aunties treated us like outsiders. Not my papa. Just me and Mama.

Mama grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the house before I could object. I wanted to take my things with me, but the urgency in their moves left me baffled.

Gunshots sounded from everywhere before we could even reach Mama’s car. I jolted Mama’s hand and got down on the ground with my forehead touching the muddy pavement and my hands covering my ears.

Papa’s gun always scared me. Now, hearing the gunshots froze my body to the ground. They stopped after a while, but I did not dare to look up. Footsteps became louder.

And then a man spoke, “The traitor’s finally dead.”

My heart clenched in my chest, fully knowing that they were referring to my papa.

Someone grabbed my arm and jolted me onto my feet. I looked at the person holding me. He wore all black clothes, much like my papa wore to work.

“What do we do with this kid?” He questioned.

My eyes drifted down to my feet, blood flowing to my boots, and then to the two bodies lying on the ground. Mama and Papa. They were not moving. Their blood was painting the brown mud in a dark shade of black.

I wailed out, seeing the view before my eyes. They were gone. Dead.

A man crossed over them and stood in front of me, blocking the scene. “Hm… Let’s bring her with us.”

I could not look at the man, but I knew who he was from the silver bracelet in his hand. I had seen him before, leaving my house, looking all smug.

He had killed them.

I was too numb to know what happened after they dragged me to their car. I protested, tried to fight them and run to my parents, but they were too strong. They pulled me like I was a feather, and rather than hearing my cries for help, they pushed me into the car and drove away, pulling me further away from the place I called home, from the people who gave me life and loved me.

They were the only ones I had. The only family I knew. And they were gone.

Why?

Later that day, I got to know that my papa had tried to kill the man he worked for, but was caught, beaten up and would have been executed either way. Everyone said that he deserved death because he was a traitor to his people.

But was he?