The Rebel's Tamer

CHAPTER 3

"Behave yourself and don't do anything stupid," her father instructed, eyes focused on her, pointing his index finger on her as if she was nobody to him. It's been this way for long.

She pressed her lips, she wanted to be blunt, but she suppressed all the urge to talk back. She needs her freedom back without anyone watching, and there's no way she'll achieve it if she fights back.

It's suffocating to stay in the house, nothing is interesting with second-hand gossip, she needs raw information to write.

She smiled timidly. "Of course, Dad."

She has to earn.

Today, there will be visitors, dirty politicians. Chanelle has been cursing in her mind the moment she sat down at the long table, anticipating toxicity in the air. She will never get used to this, while her brother seems to be accustomed. She wonders how could his brother stomach everything, knowing that these people are the reason why people never achieve justice.

Chanelle was tasked to act like a good daughter, following her father's lead, and try to mingle with others, like usual.

It shouldn't be difficult, right? She can use what she'll hear too, to let the stinks reveal itself.

Not a second passes that she didn't wish that the food has poison.

"Good evening, Senator Miranda?" A middle-aged man greeted her father with dry humor and ugly smile. A man once convicted with graft and corruption, bailed and now attempting to get back to power, a supposedly enemy but so happened to be an ally to her father.

Her father laughed, satisfied, received the hand of the old man and invited him to sit. "I knew you'd come, but isn't it too early to call me Senator? We still have a long way to go," her father acted humbly, though obviously has a plan to cheat the election results.

"Come on, Senator. There's nowhere else to go but up!"

Politicians came until she cannot feel her face anymore, fake smiling all the time made it numb. Inside Chanelle's head, she wishes for all the interruption to happen, maybe a brownout or a random accident, anything will do. The long table is filled.

Almost an hour of making heat with their seats, buttons of greedy crocodiles almost breaks free from their shirts out of gluttony, and words of lies spitting from their mad mouths—all suffocate Chanelle.

She watches them as they exchange gestures of rotten unity.

"Your daughter is really pretty, are you sure you don't want to try sending her?" another famous-for-corruption politician asked, giving Chanelle creepy smiles, glancing at her slightly exposed cleavage from time to time.

Fuck you. She wanted to shout, her throat was drying up, her lips were itching to say the words.

She isn't naive, she knows what the stinky old man is talking about. He is as filthy as his messy unshaved beard. Women for them is just a piece of possession, a piece of jewelry to brag about in public, to have someone appeal to the masses, and to mess with in private. Never a lover, always a thing. That explains their failed marriages.

Chanelle felt dirty, so she turned to her father, wanting protection, maybe some security of words and actions to stop the man, because isn't that the role of a father?

Chanelle almost broke down.

Her father is laughing…and nodding.

Words that linger in her head and broke her soul to pieces, her father said, "I'll think about it."

Disgust. Pure hatred, and revulsion.

Chanelle's hand shakes under the table, as she tries to process things, wondering how long she could bear, and how many words she should ignore and let slide. Her mind is getting fuzzy, her breathing starts to become rapid, and tears are almost collected to fall.

No way, Chanelle.

Everything may be maddening, and she may want to cry but that would make her look vulnerable, she would never do that in front of her father, especially in front of immoral people. They don't deserve her tears, never.

Hold it in, Chanelle she thought.

The topic on the table soon changes, but her feelings are left angered.

She glances at her brother, and for a second he looks at her with empathy. She denied the thought with all her existence, even her brother wouldn't understand, he's their father's ally anyway.

After some simple grounding techniques, she was able to cope with that scenario.

She held the utensils quietly, and ate together with the most dangerous and merciless sinners.

A man coughed, a poor lungs is evident from the sound of it, but the politician is not bothered, it's obvious what these people prioritizes. Despite not being spiritual, Chanelle wishes these men had no kids, or if like their family, she hopes those kids won't turn out to be like their parents.

"I mentioned the project I want to facilitate once you win, Senator, I discussed this with others in our slate as well. You know me, I am for infrastructures, and you're in the right position to be the prime mover." The politician grooved his lying brows, a man with not just corruption cases on his back, but also connected to illegal minings and known for harassing poor land owners to sell their ancestry.

"We'll see about that, I'm also looking forward to proposing the rehabilitation of the power plant."

A chuckle escaped from the latter, more rascal joined the discussion, with eyes full of desire to attain power and conquer everything.

Chanelle felt uncomfortable once again, she couldn't believe people like them exist, those who didn't care about people like them, those that are heartless.

"Indeed! It's been ages since a principled president took such decisive action. Finally, the winds are shifting in our favor," exclaimed one voice, laden with satisfaction. "Your strategy, Senator Miranda, is nothing short of brilliant. Granted, there are a few remote villages there, but they're insignificant in the grand scheme of things."

Chanelle tightened her grip on her phone, ensuring every word was captured on record. Empathy tugged at her conscience as she listened, though she couldn't help but feel a twinge of disdain for those who placed their trust in these men.

Her father turned out to be just a pawn, but Chanelle knows the pride of his father, he'll surely move on his own and drop them, like what he did to their mother. Vicious.

Chanelle drank a glass of wine to keep her sane, and purposely placed the glass carelessly, when a maid tried to refill a dish, the wine spilled all over her dress, a perfect cue for her to leave.

"Oh my!" She acted surprised, she's been practicing the reaction for a minute now.

"I-I'm sorry, ma'am," the young maid apologized.

Chanelle saw her brother frowning, he must've expected this to happen, but she doesn't care. She heard enough.

"Dad, I think I'll have to go up first. Enjoy the rest of the night, and thank you for coming everyone. Excuse me," she politely excused herself to them.

The fake smile vanished as soon as she turned her back, she walked fast towards the stairs, and only a minute until she found herself vomiting in her comfort room, crying and shaking.

It took Chanelle a couple of minutes before she was able to look at her reflection in the mirror, eyeing her messy eyeliner while she vows everything that happened today will be her weapon when time comes.

Few moments passed and her phone vibrated, she looked down and decided to gather herself when she read the content of an email.

An invitation for a private party in a villa. Hosted by a prominent kin.

The Roswells.