Their Temptation

“Where the hell have you been all this time?” John’s voice cut through the air as Camila stood in the doorway, chills running down her spine. Hastily hiding a bag behind her back, she stammered, “No… Nowhere…” Seated on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, John passed a stern glare at her. Gulping hard, Camila lowered her gaze and, still attempting to hide the bag, she cautiously staggered toward her room. But before she could take more than a few steps, John spoke again in a demanding tone, "I asked you something, Camila. Give me the truth." Trembling, she tightened her grip, struggling to form words. "I... I had just gone out—bought some stationery for my college..." Her voice almost disappeared when she said the word "stationery". "Really?" He reached for the bag, and pulled out a box. Taking a glance inside, he found a dismembered cake. Furiously, he raised the box, but before he could knock it down Camila shouted in desperation. "No, please! I just want to celebrate my birthday for once, dad! Please!" Coming to pause, John darted at her with a wicked grin. "Oh! Really? Daddy's little girl wants to celebrate her birthday?" A voice inside her tried to escape, ‘Only if you ever take me as your little girl,’ she took control and shifted her gaze to the cake. “I am talking to you!” he rumbled, but she stood quiet. "Here! Take this, my little girl.” In a fit of rage, he grabbed a handful of the dismembered cake and thrust it into her face. “This is all the love that I can give you," he spat out bitterly. "Raising you wasn't enough for you, was it? I should have just left you like your mother, right?" Her heart sunk at his cruel words, she winced as the cake smeared across her face, driving her speechless. Satisfied with his act, John grinned mischievously, with a glint in his eye. "Ah, it's time for a birthday present," he declared. On the verge of wondering what he might be doing next, her heartbeat heightened to see him grabbing the whip. Shaking her head, she murmured in a trembling tone, “Please! Not the whip! Please!” His eyebrows shot up, incredulous. "Fine! Then tell me what you want instead of this?” He raised the whip. Gulping hard, she tried to speak out, but she was out of words. “Times up!” he announced. Shortly after, the whip was swung into the air before it wrapped around her and quickly unwrapped, leaving a red scar as a keepsake. Kneeling down to the ground, she clutched her thighs tightly. As she endured the pain, she sank her fingers into her skin, and tears streamed down her face. A soft "I am sorry!" escaped her lips like a whisper, yet it seemed to have no effect as her father launched another attack. The sound of a whip resounded in every corner of the house, but neither was she saved nor did her father stop until she was down on the floor looking almost lifeless. Slowly, her tearful eyes blinked as she tried to cope with the pain crawling across her skin. And as she watched her father squatting before her, a voice inside her tried to escape: "Why?" "Why me?" "Why does it always have to be me?" Amidst the intrapersonal conversation, John's cold inquiry cut through the air, "Was that enough for you to learn that you should never— I repeat, never dare to do things without my consent?" Instinctively flinching, she whispered the words, barely audible, "Yes!” "Good!" He rose abruptly. "Now, get the hell out of here!" Finally getting a chance to escape, she struggled to get on her feet and staggered towards her room. As soon as the door slammed shut and the lock clicked, the room felt like a refuge to her, though the respite was short-lived. The sound of a bottle crashing against a hard surface followed by John's angry voice reverberated through the walls. "Now you better stay there!" Flinching at the noise, she pressed herself against the door. Her body momentarily shook as the tears continuously streamed down. The mirror next to her reflected a painful reality—cake smeared all over her face, and the cruel testament to a celebration that had gone horribly wrong. The pain she carried wasn't just about a non-celebrated birthday but also about her gender. It was clearly known that buying cake was definitely not the reason why she was whipped. It was because she was not the son that her father had expected her to be. Son, who would be his heir and earn him status and business in society. While she was not only the one who suffered, it was also her mother who was tortured and forced to have a son after her birth. In spite of every torture her mother went through, she kept on taking pills to resist him. The torture he gave her after finding out about it got so unbearable that her mother had no option other than run away from him, leaving Camila behind. Being left to face her father's anger and cruelty all by herself, without the support of her mother, carved a loneliness that cut deep into her core. ∆~∆~∆~∆ "Get the hell up, you useless brat," John’s impatient yells, and the sound of banging on the door jarred Camila from a half-dream state. As the door flew open, she jolted and got up at once. Before she could utter a word, an enraged John launched inside. "Why the hell are you still in bed? Don't you have a class to attend?” "I was just–" she attempted to explain. "Move it! No one is waiting for your this and that." His voice thundered through the room, cutting her off. Feeling the pressure of his urgency, she nodded and hastily swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Aiming towards the washroom as she advanced towards it, John reached out to grab her wrist and twist it back. ‘Please, at least not today!’ a voice shouted inside her head. The pain from yesterday was still crawling around her skin and this made her say to herself, “It’s… It’s hurting!” "I know!” He said in a disappointed tone, “and this will go on until you succeed in doing things I have assigned you for a long time. I've been patient every year, hoping things would align with the Heirs of Adam’s Co-operation through you, but not this time. I need a resolution that benefits my business. I can't afford another setback. Do you get me?" Stiffly, she nodded. He twisted her hand more, before tapping her face and adding, “I know you are a girl, and you cannot do anything to compete with them, but you do have a pretty face. Make some use of it.” As she was trying to find a word, he added, “If you are not going to do that this year as well, I will call my friend to let him make use of it.” Just the mention of his friend triggered her and made her recall the night of despair. Her own scream echoed inside her ear and made her tremble in fear. Goosebumps crawled across her skin as she reminisced about her father’s friend climbing above her and quenching his thirst. In haste, she mutters in a quivering tone, “No, no, please not him, dad.” Throwing her to the ground, he cleared his throat and said, “It’s up to you. If you don’t want him, then you know very well what you need to do.” After he walked away, she sat on the floor staring at the closed door. That was not what she wanted in the early morning of her eighteenth birthday. But sadly, her father left no chance for her to start the day as she wished. ‘This is it! You should get rid of it if you need a fresh start,’ a voice inside murmured. Slowly, she got to her feet and reached out for her pillow. Tossing it aside, she grabbed the pistol.