TO RUN FROM MY FATHER FOREVER OR TO SURRENDER?
1389 Words
Marcel's house trembled.
Marcel was Amelie's father, left behind.
"Where's big sister?!"
Amelie's youngest sibling whispered first. He had woken up in fear, his pillow wet—either from a dream or from tears.
The room light wasn't on. The other four siblings also got up. They groped for each other in the dark and ran to Amelie's room.
"Amelie!"
"Big sister! Open the door!"
But the room was silent. The door was ajar. No one was inside. The window was open, the curtain billowing.
"She's gone..." said the middle child, his eyes wide. "Big sister is gone!"
"No, no..." one wailed. "She wouldn't leave us..."
Footsteps frantically moved to the kitchen. Marcel stood by the misty window, looking at the wind outside. The children's cries tore at his heart.
"Father! Big sister is gone! She's left!"
Marcel's Collapse
Time stood still. Marcel’s hands trembled. Five children left behind… and a vanished daughter.
He rushed to the door. The house was beginning to flood. The ground floor was already a lake. His eyes still couldn’t believe it. Had Amelie truly gone?
"No… she wouldn't do this. She shouldn't have."
"Father… will she take us too? Or... will she never come back?"
Marcel knelt. He buried his face in his hands on the wet floor. For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then he raised his head.
"Roland!" he shouted. "Bring the car! I'll get the rifle!"
After the Escape
Marcel retrieved his rifle, unused for years, from the hunting corner. Without even wiping off the rust, he pulled it from the depths of the cupboard. To protect his daughter, or... to shoot someone? He didn't know himself.
"We're leaving the children with the neighbor," said Roland when he arrived. Marcel nodded. As the house shook, five children wrapped in blankets were left at the neighbor's door.
Marcel didn't say goodbye. His eyes were bloodshot. But a scream tore through him:
"What happened to you, Amelie? What did they do to you?"
On the Road
The path was muddy. The wind whipped, tree branches striking the headlights. Marcel gripped the steering wheel, grinding his teeth. The silence was unbearable.
"What if something happened to her..." Roland said quietly.
"What?"
"What if... Lysander forced her to go?"
Marcel's eyes darkened. He pressed the accelerator. The car skidded.
"What if she went willingly?" Roland said this time.
Marcel was silent for a moment.
"Willingly?"
His throat tightened. His fists crushed the leather of the steering wheel. "If she wanted to... she would have said goodbye. She would have looked me in the eye."
Elia in the Wake of the Storm
The storm was engulfing the village. Neighbors were abandoning their homes. Waters rose, walls cracked. A woman screamed in the street:
"Elia! This is Elia's wrath!"
"The last time the sea swelled like this, Elia died! In 1939!"
"This curse is back!"
The village trembled with the ghost of the past. Amelie was gone. And everyone began to whisper about the connection between her departure and this catastrophe.
Marcel's fingers were white on the steering wheel. The road was covered in mud, but his eyes were fixed only on that point ahead.
"They must have just passed..."
The tire tracks were fresh, wet. Brake marks deepened at a bend in the road.
Roland lowered his head: "They don't know the road very well. They didn't notice this curve."
Marcel narrowed his eyes.
"Amelie's shoes don't know this terrain. She'll make mistakes. I'll find her."
Meanwhile...
Lysander, map in hand, Amelie by his side, struggled down a thorny slope.
The rain had stopped, but the ground was still slick.
"The city road is this way," he said, breathless.
Amelie's hair was tangled in the wind. But her eyes held the fear of what was behind them, not the road ahead.
"Something... something is happening. My heart is pounding."
"I know," said Lysander. "I feel Elia is still after us."
"No... it's not just her," Amelie said. "My father... my father is coming too."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because my father... always finds me."
And Marcel is Very Close...
Marcel stopped the car when they rounded the bend and arrived at the abandoned gas station.
Roland squinted. "Are they there?"
No. But the fresh tracks on the ground, the crushed dry branches... whispered that someone had passed there very recently.
Marcel got out of the car. He hoisted the rifle onto his shoulder.
He inhaled the post-rain air. It smelled of earth, fear, betrayal.
The burning ache of following his own daughter's footsteps was lodged in his throat.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why did you leave without saying anything?"
He reached into his pocket. A letter Amelie had written as a child came out.
"One day I'll leave this village, Father. But I don't want to hurt you. I just... want to breathe."
The paper was damp from the rain, but the words were still there.
Meanwhile, the Fleeing...
Amelie dropped to her knees.
"I can't go on..." she gasped. "My siblings... Father... is this escape right?"
Lysander helped her up. "Your life is as precious as theirs."
"Did I... drag you into the midst of this curse?"
Lysander paused for a moment. Then he took her hand.
"I knew what I was getting into when I first saw you, Amelie. But this... this made me feel alive for the first time. I'm not running. I'm with you."
And a bullet...
Crack!
A sound echoed from afar. Birds scattered.
Amelie froze.
"That—"
"That's a rifle shot," said Lysander, in a low voice. "Someone found us."
Marcel…
His finger had touched the trigger, but he had aimed at the ground.
"Just... a warning," he said.
But the scream inside him was louder.
"Amelie! If you can hear me... come back now! If you take one more step, I might lose you forever!"
Roland said, "You can't shoot them."
Marcel's voice cracked: "But if my daughter... turns into someone else, will she still be my daughter?"
Amelie...
A whisper-like wind moved the amulet around her neck. She clutched it with her hand.
At that moment, Elia's presence touched her body like a shadow.
"The amulet... if it comes off... she'll find us," said Lysander.
"And my father... he's already found us." The storm raged on, but its true tempest brewed within them.
Footsteps drew nearer, each one a hammer blow against the fragile silence of the night. Lysander gripped Amelie's arm, his voice urgent. "We have to get out of here immediately. If we stop now, we'll lose not to Elia, but to our past."
But the path before them offered no easy escape. The trails narrowed, winding like forgotten veins, while the ominous hum of a car engine grew steadily louder. Behind them, an angry father, armed and desperate, pursued them. On their heels, the relentless spirit of Elia stalked. The darkness itself seemed to call out, beckoning them into its depths. Was salvation truly a step away, or was this the final, inevitable end?
If Marcel catches them, what fate awaits? Will his desperation drive him to pull the trigger? Will Amelie ever be able to look back, or will the weight of her choices forever keep her gaze fixed forward? And Elia, at the precise moment the amulet on Amelie's neck trembled with unseen energy, where exactly was she waiting? At that moment, Amelie realized how much she had hurt her father, but what could she explain if she went back? Was she supposed to tell him that Elian was haunting her, and that she wanted to escape with Lysander to avoid living in Elian's nightmare and hell? Her father wouldn't even believe her. If she told him she loved Lysander, which was entirely true – Lysander was the love of her life – then he might become furious, screaming, "Why didn't you tell me?" He might even, in his anger, harm Lysander, perhaps shoot him with his rifle. Could he really do that? If he didn't shoot, if her father understood, and if Amelie stayed in the village, could Elian take Amelie's life and then haunt her younger siblings? All these possibilities flashed through Amelie's mind faster than the speed of light. Once again, she found herself in the middle of a situation where she didn't know what to do.
- Writer
