Santi: The Devil's Pioneer

Chapter 65 - A Flashback

*Emily's POV*

It might seem strange why a 15-year-old girl was riding the subway alone. No parents sat beside her. No friends placed their heads on her shoulder. Meek and mute, she sat still. Having stopped two stations already, the conductor seemed reproach. Was she a scam? They must have thought.

"Little girl, where are you headed?" He finally asks after contemplating for a long time.

My mouth stays shut. I had a terrible day at school, and it was only after I returned to the safety of my own home, that the reality of what I've done finally dawned on me.

What had I done? What have I done?! What the hell was I thinking?

Oh, God! Dad is gonna kill me! Mom is gonna kill me. I'll be dead before the sun shines back up again. I can't breathe. I feel my eyes swell up and my throat stops receiving air.I'm thinking about changing my name, dying my hair purple, and relocating to Mars to shield me from her wrath's dreadful repercussions. I couldn't concentrate on my job since my thoughts were always dragging me away from it. After a few hours, I was undecided about if I should just straighten out Emman and console him or leave him alone. Mom and dad had totally forgotten about his birthday wish for a train set this year. Rather, they bought him a nice cravat.

Now that I think about it, I'm even more worried. What am I going to say to her about the goof I made in school? Oh, for the love of God, kill me!

Mom enters the room at that same moment, agitated and worried.

She shouts into her phone, "That son of a b***h, he looked so cocky I wanted to strangle him too." "I've always suspected he was resentful, but I had no idea he was this awful."

Even at an early age, I'm typically better at reading people, but then again, I'm a fifteen-year-old.

"I wish there was anything I could do, mom," I said, hoping to help her acquire some goodwill before she discovered my truth.

She entices Emily, "Come on Emily," she says. "Let's go visit your father; he's undoubtedly in desperate need of our help right now."

We both walked to his office and saw him putting his stuff in a big cardboard box. His secretary was there too, by his side and it was evident that we were all feeling pretty helpless.

A sad frown took over my face. Mom walked up to his side and offered him a small smile and Joanne, the secretary, left since she had a lot of work and a quick approaching deadline.

"Oh, I'll be fine, darling. I built this company up from the dump it used to be. I could do this a thousand times over." He says, trying to lighten up the mood but it didn't really work. Instead, mom slapped his arm hard and he cradled it over dramatically.

I curiously reached out to pick up a small photo frame that he had just placed inside the box. It was a picture of me and Emman.

"Do you remember that day, sweetheart? That's the day you came home from the carnival. You lost your two front teeth after a mascot ran over you." He explains with a fond, entirely genuine smile on his face.

"How did Emman lose his?" I asked, placing the picture back in the box. She might have him wrapped around her little finger.

"He felt sorry you lost your teeth and forcefully lost his, too. In a battle with a statue." He shook his head, reminiscing our silliness.

Mom jumped into the conversation, "That was a pretty unfortunate day which led to a visit to the dentist's office."

"Were we sorry and regretful?" I asked.

"No, but the fact that you talk to Emman into feeling sorry for you was definitely crazy," I said, and then proceeded to stare at the tree by his window.

He quickly closed the blinds to his window, "We don't have to be so sorry all the time, sweetheart. Good things take time. You see, all your beautiful teeth grew back, stronger and better."

He then looked at the cherry blossoms and stared at them with such woe that I had a hard time believing his words.

"I think it's time to go home, dear," Mom calls our attention.

"What? No, go without me. I'll be home soon. I just need to finish up some things." He answers.

I picked up another picture frame, it was a picture of Emman with Uncle Maurice standing next to him with his hand over his shoulder holding him close, they were both at the top of a house covered in snow and smiling at the camera.

"How did they fly to the roof?" I asked teasingly, he rolled his eyes but answered.