The Sunset Prophecy (Love & Armageddon #1) (20 page)

“
You know your father. You know how he can be.”

“
He wants to control every move I make. I feel like a prisoner,” Cindy said, her voice muzzled by the softness of her pillow.

Sue let out a deep sigh.

“He just wants what is best for you. He wants you to have a successful life, one without struggle.”

Cindy turned her head away from the pillow, and stared into her mom
’s eyes. “I already struggle. He wants me to be a doctor or an engineer because it will look good on him in the eyes of our family and friends. He’s never once asked about my schoolwork or gotten involved with any of my extracurricular activities at school. It’s a selfish dream for him.”

Sue eyed the door with worry.
“You shouldn’t say that.”

“
I can never express myself in this house. It’s the truth, Mom,” Cindy bemoaned. “I no longer have control over who I am.”

“
If Linda can do it, you can do it, too. She’s getting straight A’s again. She listens to me and your father. She knows what’s best for her. And she attends all the tutoring sessions we pay for, unlike you. You’re wasting our money. Do you understand?”

With tears streaming down her ch
eeks, Cindy sat up from her bed, her face red. Years of pressure throughout her formative school years had taken a toll on her. Born with a tremendous amount of empathy toward others, and a caring constitution, Cindy went against her nature, as she lashed out at her mother. “I’m not Linda, okay? We have different brains. Things don’t come easy to me, like her,” she yelled. “Stop comparing us. I don’t want to live your life either. I don’t want to end up like you. You’re practically a slave in this home, doing Father’s bidding.”

Cindy
’s father was leaning against the wall next to the door, hearing the conversation between Cindy and her mother. He stepped into the doorway with his arms crossed and the end of his leather belt wound around his hand like a coiled snake. Defiant, Cindy stared into her father’ eyes. “You can’t,” she yelled, “I’m 16. You can’t do this anymore.”

Her father charged the bed and whipped Cindy
’s back and bottom, as she spun onto her stomach, protecting herself from a frontal beating.

Sue stood up and just watched, silently, flinching at her husband
’s strikes. Linda, who was in the kitchen, came to Cindy’s doorway, and watched her big sister get beat, her face neutral, without emotion, conditioned to neutralize aggression.

“
You will do as I say as long as you live in this house,” Cindy’s father barked.

Cindy tucked her legs and arms away from the lashes. Her father
’s belt stung her ribs. She remained silent and smothered her cries underneath her pillow.

The flogging stopped, Cindy relaxed h
er body. She needed to cry out, to exhale the pain. Her father panted as he stood over her, his rigid stance signaling dominance. There was no need to keep whipping her, he thought. She got the message. As long as she lived in his house, she had to honor him. It was just the way things had to be. It was how they were when he was young.

Cindy
’s father walked out of the room with his head down, the belt over his shoulder. Cindy lay in bed whimpering. The stinging pain from her raised and reddened skin was usurped by torment brought on from parental betrayal.

“
Do what he says,” Sue said. “Don’t fight further. There is nothing for you here, only pain. Go away, Cindy, and never come back.”

Her mother
’s voice wasn’t human, she thought. It wasn’t recognizable. However, Cindy felt compelled to adhere to her request. It was her mother after all, the mother who never protected her, who never took her side, but still her mother, nonetheless.

B
ut something burned inside her. She was onto something much larger than herself, much larger than her past, and most importantly of all, much larger than the coward of a father to whom she had the misfortune of being related to. She had to tell her father what she was doing. About her own journey, her own path, and what her new destiny had become.

She wiped her nose and eyes and stood up strongly from her bed. Mother
’s thin arm attempted to grapple her shirt. Cindy seized her mother’s hand and turned to her. “I’ll leave. I’ll leave the family, but I need to confront Dad.”

“
No, just leave this house and don’t look back, Cindy.”

“
I need to tell him something.”

“
He doesn’t love you. He only loves his honor. Go away and don’t come back. Why do you want to speak to the man who hurt you? He’ll only continue to hurt you.”

Angry,
Cindy pushed her aside and walked out of her room with a hurried gait. Her father leaned against the kitchen counter, observing Linda’s work. He turned his head toward the hallway, where Cindy had emerged from her room, her face feisty and emitting resolve.

“
I hate you,” she said, angrily.

Her father
’s face stilled, his lip without curl.

“
I’m going to figure this whole thing out. I don’t know what it is, but I know for sure it is larger than you and your stupid, abstract, invisible honor.”

“
You’re a failure,” he said, without inflection. “You’re a loser.”

Cindy sustained unflinch
ing eye contact with her father, her face flushed with rage.

“
Get out of my house and never come back. There is nothing for you here.”

“
No. You need to listen.”

Sue came from behind and placed her hand on Cindy
’s shoulder. Cindy grabbed her mother’s hand and brushed it off immediately. She turned to her mother, and said, “You’re weak. You never loved me. Your fear of Dad was stronger than the love for your children.”

Her mother covered her face and began sobbing.

Something poked the skin underneath her armpit. The memory of a thick, red book under her arm entered her thoughts like slow-moving fog. She reached for it and shoved it in her father’s face. “Look, I have something in my hand that I discovered, that I pursued because I never gave up what I loved, the mysteries of this planet, of this universe; I sought them without your heavy hand.”

She
opened the book and placed her finger on the page. Her father’s face was without a reaction, her mother continued to sob, and Linda sat stone-faced, as she usually did when the entire family gathered with tension.

Cindy raised her head with confidence and began reading with clarity and with measured diction, translating the lexicon as it sparked in her mind,
“
Aftí stirízetai gia tin eiríni̱ pará ti thélisí tis
...she rests for peace, against her will...enslaving humanity for perpetual amity.”

Her father
’s eyes reacted as if a different mind were behind them. His mouth gaped in surprise. “How do you know?” he asked.

“
Because I fought for myself. I fought to prove myself, that there was more to life than living someone else’s life. Even if I were to struggle. Even if I were to uncover nothing,” Cindy said, with her face trembling. She then reached out at her father and placed her slight hand around his throat. Surprised at his daughter’s sudden physical hostility, the father didn’t react. Cindy bellowed with gnashed teeth, “Go ahead and hit me. Try hitting me again.”

The walls and furniture, her mother and sister, and the feeling of dread she recollected as she stepped into her parents
’ house again began to dissolve like an oil painting drenched in rain. Her father’s face twisted and morphed as if made of clay. The room she found moments ago slowly reappeared. A haggard gray figure, wearing a beaten and stained tunic, with a pathetic set of wings on its bony back, emerged unmoved in her tightened grip.

“
What the hell are you?” Cindy asked, at first with panic, and then with smoldering courage. “Where am I?”

“
How did you retrieve the Apocryphon? How did you get in here?” wheezed the wilted cherub.

Cindy removed her hand from the wretch and stepped back. The darkened room had come alive with ambient light. The walls sparkled of pure gold. A radiant
tomb rested against the far wall.

“
I came through the church and came in through the river,” Cindy said.

“
The sacred dowel and the Rondure of Nicaea, how? You’re a mortal,” it asked.

“
Fate?” Cindy quipped.

The room emitted a burst of static.

“What was that?” Cindy asked. “It happened when I first came in here.”

“
You’ve awakened them.”

“
Awakened what?”

“
The protectors of the harvest.”

“
What harvest?” Cindy asked. She then gazed at the dilapidated wings. “What are you?”

“
You’ve arrived here unprepared, yet you’ve managed to infiltrate the heart of the Prophecy; tis’ fate,” the winged man sighed, then gurgled a chuckle.

“
Are you an angel?” Cindy said, as her eyes narrowed.

The winged man coughed and rested on his thin and frail legs.
“My name is Murat. I oversee the Blessed Sacrament’s tomb. I’m old and weak now. My body and power has succumbed to your plane. All I have is the power to instill fear. To repel all who enter, but I clearly don’t even possess such a skill, as you fought my attempts with ease.”

“
It clearly would’ve worked if I hadn’t prepared emotionally and mentally to face my father once again. I’ve dreamed of seeing his face for the past couple of years. I know who I am now,” Cindy said.

Murat
nodded weakly.

Cindy pointed toward the tomb.
“Who rests there?”

“
That is the Blessed Sacrament’s tomb.”

Murat rested on the ground, weakened and without the ability to provoke.
Cindy walked up to the tomb, from which protruded a Madonna’s figure holding a lily on her bosom.

“
Is she inside?”

“
No,” softly breathed Murat.

“
Where is she?”

“
Guarded.”

“
Who’s guarding her? Where?”

“
Your end is near.”

“
My end is near? What do you mean?”

“
The Seraphs are going to disembowel you,” Murat grinned, as he panted on the floor.

With adrenaline,
Cindy’s senses heightened. She rushed the door to the room and removed the dowel and rondure from the door, and slammed it shut, locking it once again. She stepped back and placed the artifacts in her pockets. She turned to Murat. “They won’t get through.”

Murat gasped a laugh.
“They’ll scratch and claw their way through the rocks to get in. You have nowhere to go.”

Panic changed her otherwise pleasant demeanor, and
Cindy walked up to Murat and grabbed his wing, giving it an abrupt yank. Murat squirmed in pain. “Where is the Blessed Sacrament?”

Murat screamed.

“You pathetic and forgotten wretch, where is she?”

“
Let go and I’ll tell,” grimaced Murat. “Let go of my wing, please.”

Cindy loosened her grip and crouched so she could gaze into Murat
’s sunken opalescent eyes.

Murat respired,
“She’s being kept in Shia’s house.”

“
Shia? Who’s Shia?” Cindy asked with confusion.

Murat cackled like a dying crow. His phlegm
-tickled chortle sent a shiver down Cindy’s spine. “The actor. Mr. Labeouf.”

Surprised by the name, Cindy grabbed at Murat
’s wing. “What the hell is going on? Shia Labeouf? Why would Shia Labeouf be entrusted to hold the Blessed Sacrament? Tell me the truth.”

“
We’re both going to perish in this dank, cold room. So, I might as well let you in on something,” said Murat, who proceeded to sit on his bottom. “Let me ask you this; how attractive is Shia to you?”

“
He’s okay, I guess. Nothing spectacular,” Cindy said, letting go of Murat’s wing.

“
Quit being coy. His looks do nothing for you or most women out there.”

“
Depends. He can be cute at times.”

“
Do you think he’s talented?”

Cindy rolled her eyes.
“Where’s this leading?”

“
Just hear me. Do you think he’s talented?”

“
He’s okay. In most movies, he’s just there.”

“
So, how does a young man who’s neither great looking nor greatly talented, achieve the success he has?”

“
Hard work? Familial ties? I don’t know.”

“
No. He’s the last Kronotos before the harvest.”