Chapter 7: Confrontation (Part 2)

Their eyes locked for a few seconds, Alphi's heart had leaped out of her body. She stumbled back, crashing into the small table behind her. Alphi tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. After all, what was there to say? Her usually drunken father looked quite sober today, but he still reeked of alcohol.

"You!" he screamed, breaking the intense silence. He stared at her for some time as if trying to confirm his sanity. Then he spoke,

"You wretched witch, why are you here?"

"So you knew?" Alphi asked.

He sighed and looked away, evading her question.

Alphi asked again, "Why didn't you tell me? You knew everything, didn't you? And you just let me suffer?"

"You look just like her," he responded, his eyes softening.

"Just like who?" Alphi asked.

"You don't need to know," he answered.

"It's Mother, isn't it? I look just like Mother," Alphi said.

His eyes widened. "How did you—" He stopped. "Never mind. It's not like I care."

Alphi asked, "How long have you known, and why didn't you say anything?"

He responded, "Say what, you ungrateful witch? After all I've done for you?"

"For me?" Alphi asked, tears now falling from her eyes. "What exactly have you done for me?

"Oh, I know—you starved me, you tortured me, you left me at home alone, you never told me anything. Is that what you've done for me?"

His eyes softened for a moment. Just for a moment, he looked like he might say something, but he didn't.

Alphi finally asked the question on her mind.

"Where is she?"

Her dad gave her a confused look.

"Where is Mom? What did you do to her?" she asked.

The pain was evident in his eyes.

"Me?" he asked.

"Yes, you—who else? Don't tell me you… you killed her."

In a fit of rage, he screamed, "No! I didn't! I would never!"

"But you would torture your own daughter, isn't that right, Eric?" Alphi responded.

"How do you know that name? Who told you that?" he asked.

Alphi was silent.

"You went through my things," he said in anger, pushing her back violently.

Alphi fell to the ground, the ring falling out of her pocket.

He noticed it, his eyes full of rage.

"How dare you, you brat!.

He rushed to grab the ring, but Alphi picked it up first.

"Give it back!" he shouted.

"No, not until you answer my questions," Alphi replied.

His face looked like that of a beast ready to attack its prey.

"I said give it to me!"

"No." Alphi was trembling with fear, but she stood her ground. "Not until you answer my questions."

"I have nothing to say to you," he replied. "I won't repeat myself. Give me the ring. If you don't, you know what comes next."

Alphi didn't give in to his demands. She replied, "I'm not the same little girl you used to treat like an animal."

He gritted his teeth, face red with anger.

Alphi knew that look all too well—it was the same expression he wore whenever he beat her. She swallowed her breath. She couldn't give up. Not now.

He charged at her, like a bull chasing a red cloth.

Alphi ran around like a rat about to be devoured by a cat. She was afraid. She wanted to just run out of the house, but she needed answers.

"I've run long enough," she said, holding the ring as tight as she could.

The chase continued, she ran around like prey being hunted by its predator. In the heat of the moment, she tripped on the same table she had stumbled upon. She let out a brief scream of pain, gently rubbing the affected area. As she looked up, her father was right before her eyes. An evil smile appeared on his face.

"Time up," he said.

Alphi, unwilling to give up, held the ring as tight as possible. The struggle began. It was a tug of war between father and daughter. An inhumane strength came upon Alphi, a kind of strength that no 16-year-old girl should possess. Her father was surprised. How was the girl he used to beat so easily now matching him in a fight of strength?

As the struggle went on, Alphi mistakenly bruised her father's finger with the ring. He instantly tried to pull his hands out. His blood splashed on the ring.

Alphi felt something on her hand. "Blood?" she said.

Her eyes quickly scanned her hands. The blood wasn't hers. She looked up to see blood dripping from her father's hand. Her eyes widened in shock, and almost instantly, something happened—something she couldn't understand.

She had been transported to a world she did not know, a place like no other.

"Where am I?" she asked. "And where is Father?"

She was so confused and demanded an explanation. "How did I even get here?"

She looked around. There were so many people.

"People!" she exclaimed. "I must not be in the forest."

She tried to ask where she was, but it seemed like no one could see or hear her.

She stood there screaming, "Can anyone hear me?" but no reply.

Alphi wandered around, till she heard a familiar voice. She ran till where the voice was coming from. Is that dad? It was her father—not the one she knew now, but the one she had seen in the pictures. She went closer, trying to get his attention, but just like the rest, he couldn't see or hear her. Everyone else was quiet and repeated the same motion over and over. It was only his voice she could hear, and only his movements were the same. It was just like the visions she had before. Are these dad's memories? she asked.

Alphi seemed to have been somehow transferred into her father's memories. It was all in black and white. It seemed to be divided into rooms, and there was a door with bright light emitting from it. That must be the exit, she thought. Each room contained a different memory. She went room after room, watching her father's past. Just like in the pictures, he was indeed a happy man—a kind one at that. The memories revealed that he was once a successful restaurant owner, a rich one at that. He was a loving, kind, and gentle person. A handsome man—brown hair and ocean blue eyes. A good build and a welcoming smile. All the ladies at the time yearned to be his bride, but he would just say, The right one will come.

One day, he ran into a beautiful young lady—black hair and brown eyes—a slender beauty dressed in rags. She sat there near his restaurant in tears; her stomach rumbled in hunger. The beautiful lady caught his attention; he couldn't just leave her like that, so he walked up to her and offered to help her out. When he asked her what had happened to her, she just said she was homeless. It didn't make sense. Why is such a beautiful girl homeless? he thought. "I'm Eric, and you are—" she hesitated, "Anastasia." "Well, it's a lovely name." He took her home and gave her a change of clothes.

Soon, they started getting close to each other. She began working in his restaurant and living with him. Everything was going fine— in fact, great. He was in love with her.

Later on, he proposed to her. At first, she refused him. He was broken, depressed, shattered.

After a while, she agreed to marry him. He was so happy—elated, overjoyed.

He threw a huge party the day she agreed to marry him. Eric was the happiest man alive at that moment.

Alphi, who was watching all this, felt a rush of joy seeing her dad like that. She wanted to run up to them and hug them both—especially her mother.

She was overwhelmed with happiness; she had finally confirmed her mother's identity. Alphi couldn't hold the tears back. She stood there crying as she watched it all, wondering even more deeply—what could have possibly changed it all?