Paper Rings (English)

Chapter 8

The grinding buzz of an old air conditioner and the room’s musky scent awakened the unconscious Primrose from her deep slumber. Her senses were welcomed by the throbbing pain at the back of her head. Despite the strange and heavy feeling in her chest, she managed to open her eyelids to regain her discernment. 

As soon as her eyes caught the sight of the unfamiliar lampshade on the nightstand, her body bounced up from the bed automatically. She kicked the blankets away and circled her gaze around the place that looked like an abandoned hotel room. 

Every muscle in her body trembled upon the recollection of what happened inside the car. She squeezed her eyes shut and clapped her hands over her ears. The amount of disbelief engulfing her was too overwhelming. Her mind was unable to comprehend the betrayal of her trusted comrade. 

“Quintana, how could you,” she pressed her fists on top of the worn-out bed linens. 

Although Quintana Jones only started working for her last year, the presence of this woman became an essential part of her safe haven. After she began defying his father’s wishes, she hired her with the assumption that she was tough enough to resist the City Mayor’s threats. All this time, she didn’t know that she was still in the vicinity of her father. The thought of being leashed disgusts her. 

She ran in the direction of the tightly closed door and shook the knob with all her might. Her eyes were welling up from pent-up frustration, anger, and sadness. 

“Open the door!” she screamed on top of her lungs. “Dad, open the door. I’m begging you. Why are you doing this?” 

Despite her desperate call, no sound emerged outside the four-cornered room. Her heartbeat thrashing both ears caused her to gasp for air. From that moment, she noticed that there were no windows inside the place she was locked up in. Her throat ran dry as fear engulf every bit of her senses. 

“Let me out of here. Let me out!” 

Her vision was blurring. It felt as if everything in her sight were closing in and slowly suffocating her into a tiny space. This tight feeling led her to pound her fists harder into the door. After a while, footsteps were finally heard outside. When the door opened, she fell to the floor. Her father, Wilson Dia, emerged in front of her with two security personnel standing behind him. 

“Stop screaming, Rosey. No one can hear you.” The old man scooted to meet her eye level and casually tucked the strands of her hair behind an ear. “You know more than anyone how much I hate wasting time on things that won’t benefit our family.” 

Primrose withdrew from his touch when he tried to cup her cheek. There was an apparent tightness in her eyes as their gazes remained locked. Her hand reached for his collar, pulling him closer to her weary visage. His guards were about to her away from their master, but Wilson shook his head to stop them. 

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I already did everything you want me to do. What else do you want from me?”

“Shh. Why are you so upset, my little princess?” He caressed her head and painted a smile on his lips. “Your father is just worried about you. I noticed that you’ve been so defiant lately, so I decided to attend to this matter personally. I’m just doing what any good father would do.”

“I’m not a child anymore, and you’ve never been a good father, so quit this nonsense all at once.” 

Her voice was low, but the rebellion tainted on those words were firm and irrevocable. Even Wilson seemed bewildered as his eyes widened. He couldn’t talk for a while. His mouth was open, but no words were heard from it. It took a while before he reached for her hand that was tightly grabbing his collar and gripped it to the point that she flinched in pain. 

“You’re the one who has to stop this nonsense, Rosey.” He loosened his grip upon noticing the agony in his daughter’s face. “The best you can do is behave yourself in this room until I finish negotiating with your in-laws. I can’t let you go to New Caledonia, and I’m sure your husband’s family share the same sentiments.” 

“Is this what you did to Mom?” Her taunting query halted all the remaining motion inside that small room. She could already see the veins in Wilson’s neck popping out, signaling a rush of anger coming her way. “You caged her dreams. When she tried to break free, you ruthlessly cut her off and shatter her will to live. Well, I don’t wanna end up like her.”

Not a second had passed after she declared that, his giant palm struck across her tiny face. It was a familiar scene, but she failed to foresee it, and she almost bent down the floor. It was a relief she managed to maintain her balance. Her father seemed taken aback as well and tried to help her up, but she swatted his hand away. 

“R-rosey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Unlike earlier, his voice was gentler and seem to lose its power. His eyebrows were gathering in, trying to find reasons for his action. 

“I can’t take being around you right now,” Primrose pointed to the door. “If you’re not going to let me go, just get out of my sight.” 

“Rosey.” 

“I said, get out.” She was screaming this time. Her fists were shaking, and her tensed body was on the verge of springing. “Seeing your face disgusts my entire being.” 

The tension was steadily rising between them. Luckily, it was shattered by one of the security personnel rushing to her father’s side. 

“Sir, we have a dire situation that you need to handle.” 

“What is it?” 

“Sander Mortel is at the entrance of the establishment with his men.” 

The moment she heard those words, Primrose mustered the courage and strength to get up on her feet. However, she was grabbed by her father’s men before she could even step out of the doorstep. They took her inside and sat her back at the feet of the bed. 

“Hold your horses, young lady.” Wilson ran a hand through his thinning grey hair and sighed. “Don’t rely too much on Messi Sander Mortel. You have to remember, your marriage with him is all for business anyway. Except being a Mortel, he’s not much of use right now.” 

The red-haired lady had no energy left to question his twisted mindset. She just watched him turn his back from her while reminiscing the same scene back when she was ten. He walked out of the door, leaving her drunk mother on the floor and screaming in despair. 

The memories were so vivid to her, like they happened a few seconds ago. When she shifted her gaze to the corner of the room, the image of her ten-year-old self trembling in fear formed right before her eyes. She stood up, and her feet led her to the exact position where her younger version was seated. 

“Don’t cry. Everything will be alright.” She had been using this chant back when her parents used to fight all the time. And when her mother died, those reassuring words also died with her. Drowning with emotions, she decided to hug her knees and shut her eyes.  

Images of her childhood kept on flashing in her mind. Strangely, this enclosed and stuffy space reminded her of their old home where she used to shut herself in a room to avoid the scream fest between her parents. Sandra was right. She knew all about the commotion happening inside the house. She was a guilty bystander as her mother suffered. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creeping open. She thought it was one of the guards, so she prepared herself to bounce up from her seat and dash away. However, when she tilted her head up, the worried visage of Messi Sander Mortel emerged from the doorstep. 

Ah, she almost forgot. She still has a card under her sleeve—the remaining pass that would retrieve her out of the cage Wilson Dia built around her. 

“Sorry for making you wait.”