The Interstellar Slave

Chapter 2: Dysfunctional Family

Bituin’s parents were there for her when she was in the hospital. Upon learning that she could not walk after her spinal injury, she cried day and night, feeling miserable. She had to stay in the hospital until the doctor released her, recommending her for an aggressive therapy, for faster recovery.

In spite of her parents being worried, she sent them away back to their own respective lives. “I’ll go for therapy starting tomorrow, all right? So, just leave me alone!” she said after her forty-nine-year-old father helped her in bed, tucking her in.

They just got in from the hospital. Her two-room apartment was luxurious enough because she had the money from her parents’ allowance sent to her every month and her money from the underground matches every weekend and some on weeknights, depending on her mental and physical state. She earned at least five or six grand per fight. It wasn’t so much really, given that she had busted lip and got beaten up for it. But for her, it was something. It was practically blood money. And yet, she didn’t care for as long as she loved the matches. It gave her the thrill and enjoyment. It made her feel more alive. There, she was surrounded by many people who cheered for her and loved her.

Han-Gyeol turned to look at his ex-wife Nieves, hands on his waist, and sighed. “Can you believe our daughter is telling us to go while she’s in this kind of situation? Tell me you’re not hearing this!” He gestured his hand in annoyance.

Bituin eyed her tall, lean and still-handsome father. He had this youthful face and features that she mostly inherited, except for her mother’s eye color. Her father’s orbs were small with almond shape and black in color.

Instead of answering Han-Gyeol Nieves walked over to the bedside table and turned the lampshade dimmer, maybe to just have something to do while her ex-husband gave her a frustrated stare. She ignored it and reached for Bituin’s head to gently stroke her hair. Then, she leaned down to kiss her daughter’s forehead.

“Why aren’t we supposed to be here? Maybe it’s better if you’ll come with me or your father. You can just choose, Bibi,” her mother gently spoke to her, calling her by her mom’s favorite endearment.

Bituin scoffed and slapped the mattress. “Mom! I’m all grown up, and I don’t even need to choose between you and Dad! How could you ask me that?”

“Your assailant is still out there, Bibi,” Han-Gyeol pointed out.

Right, her father also called her that. His voice was soft, and she closed her eyes tightly for a second or two.

“We don’t know if he meant to kill you or not. We can’t take any chances, Bibi,” her father added, stepping closer to her queen size bed that was covered by a sheet of checkered white and blue colors.

“Dad, if he did want to kill me, I wouldn’t have been alive by now. I’m sure he just wanted me to be… like this.” She swallowed the non-existent big lump in her throat and looked away. She heard her father draw a deep breath through his nose.

“Bibi, we don’t know that.” Her father shook his dark head. “The police are investigating your case as we have requested, but right now, they’re at a dead end! There were no cameras around that area where you were found. You were lucky someone brought you to the hospital because your car couldn’t lift you up from the ground on its own! Not to mention, you’re fortunate enough the police don’t know you’re involved with the mob! How could you be so thoughtless about joining such a fight club, huh? Can’t you fight legally? There’s the UFC, MMA and boxing if you want!” her father sermonized in frustration, running his fingers through his short hair.

Bituin ground her teeth. She knew they wouldn’t understand why she was doing this. It wasn’t her plan to be involved at first, but the thrill was there. She got addicted to it. They had to move venues everytime so that the police wouldn’t be able to catch them.

Her forty-eight-year-old mother looked at her with scolding eyes. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run away from home! And what? You thought I didn’t and wouldn’t know what you were doing up here just because I always send you money? You have no idea how worried I am everytime I think of you, Bituin Lee! I’m your mother for heaven’s sake!” Nieves’ voice went higher than expected. She always had gentle voice as far as Bituin could remember.

The paraplegic averted her gaze and set her jaw tight. “Yes, you are but you are barely there for me since I was little. You and Dad both always left me with a nanny, who didn’t even take good care of me!”

Her parents’ jaws dropped. “What?”

“You never told us about this then,” her mother uttered. Confusion registered in her not-so-beautiful face.

Bituin winced. “Would’ve it made a difference? I was always alone anyway, and now, I prefer it that way.” She held back her tears as the back of her eyes heated up. She moved her head away from her parents’ inquiring and probing gazes, and she heard them sigh almost simultaneously.

***

Bituin didn’t want to think she won when she told her parents she wanted to be left alone. However, her parents did leave a couple days after staying with her in her apartment, making sure she had everything she needs and that she’d be comfortable. Her father bought her a new hover car that was wheelchair-friendly and driverless, which was programmed to bring her back and forth the institution, since she chose to go there instead of home therapy. Sure, she could use the car wherever she wanted to go, but for the time being, that was the main setting.

It was the first time all three of them were together in one place after her parents divorced. When they left and went back to their respective homes, Bituin was again left on her own. Admittedly, she did miss them already and loved the days when she was still in the hospital with them taking care of her in every possible way they could, despite their presence that wasn’t really needed there as nurses and robots took turns to take care of her and her needs.

Now Bituin’s sweat beaded on her forehead as she listened to the AI that gave her instructions and tried to follow them. Her head had a ring that snugly fitted it, which monitored her brain activities while doing the exercises. Her legs up to the waist were supported by thin alloys that were connected to the ring on her head by a program and the implant in her spinal to monitor her progress. The implant was supposed to have healed her in a matter of few weeks or months of therapy. However, the therapists and doctors were astounded of the negative results that showed from the tests after six months.

She was actually a puzzle to them.

Feeling frustrated, Bituin decided to stop going to the therapy. It was her last day here. For over six months she’d been coming in and out of the physical therapy institution every single day, she began to lose hope as nothing improved.

Her wheelchair was set automatically to go to the parking lot. She would go home and rest and maybe stay in her apartment forever—until her last breath. Her heart was too heavy, and her eyes stung. She sniffled, not wanting people to see her weakness or sullen mood. She’d just wallow in her depression when she’d be home, away from possible prying eyes. She didn’t want their concern either as nothing could change in her situation.

Just before her wheelchair was going to climb up on the ramp at the backseat of her silver-colored hover car, a huge man appeared behind her and dropped a little white card on her lap. She thought he must’ve dropped it unintentionally. She picked it up and was about to return it. But to her amazement, the said person was gone in a flash.

She looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen. She then peered down at the little card with a phone number on it. Her almost straight brows knitted.

Why is there no name here?

When she was settled in the backseat, she commanded the AI. “Call this number,” and dictated it.

“Quasi-Spectra Pharmaceutical Research Facility. How may I help you?”

Bituin heard a woman’s voice. A human, not an AI’s. She had no idea, but her heart skipped a beat.