Armin had fallen asleep all through the drive home to palm country.
The driver had to wake him when he finally drove into downtown.
Armin woke up and scanned his neighborhood.
Everything was still the same; the feeling of nostalgia hit him, but it was a happy one.
The rest of the drive was a happy, almost impatient one.
He couldn’t wait any longer to run into his father’s open arms.
They pulled over in front of their house.
Armin thanked the driver and immediately jumped down from the car, half-running into the house.
He turned the doorknob; the door wasn’t locked.
It meant only one thing—his dad was home.
He walked inside and was instantly stunned by the house.
He ran out and scanned his surroundings again, just to be sure he was in the right house.
He was in the right house.
He noticed the BMW was still parked on the spot.
He eyed it, snorted, and walked back into the house.
The house was different from what he had grown up in.
It was furnished into a real home; the old furnitures had been replaced, the broken windows and doors fixed, and there was now an air conditioner and even literal fresh flowers on tables.
“Now this is it, a real home,” he thought proudly.
He was proud that in a matter of weeks, his dad had improved things even in the absence of his children.
“Dad,” he called, his voice echoing through the walls, “I’m home.”
He crossed the dining section and walked into the sitting room.
He threw his tired body onto the soft couch and almost immediately threw himself out of it when a woman walked into the room from the kitchen.
She was young and beautiful, and she had brunette wavy hair with a yellow flower clip on it.
Her smiling eyes reminded him of his mom.
His dad certainly had a type.
In a matter of weeks, he had married a woman that could easily pass for his mom.
He smiled.
“Who are you?” she asked, looking alarmed.
“I’m Armin,” he replied and courtesied.
“Who?” she asked again.
Armin’s smile dropped and he stared at her blankly.
Didn’t his father ever talk about him to her?
He wasn’t in the mood for a prolonged, unnecessary conversation; he was just going to hit the nail on the head.
“I’m one of your husband’s sons,” he said proudly and watched the woman’s breath hitch.
Her hand flew to her mouth in shock as she staggered back.
“Babe!” she screeched angrily.
A man came running from the master bedroom.
Armin smiled wider… his dad.
His smile dropped again and his brow arched as he sized up the man.
“Who are you?” he asked the man.
“Who are you?” the man asked back.
“What are you doing in my house?” Armin asked again.
“Titi, you had sons and you never told me?” the woman asked, staring daggers at the man.
“He is not my dad,” Armin chipped in quickly.
Suddenly everyone went quiet, looking at each other until the man finally spoke up.
“What’s happening here?
Armin took a long, deep breath and started explaining how this was his home that he had lived in all his life, and that he was gone for only a while, and his father was supposed to be here.
“Who is your father?” the man asked.
“Zach…”
“Oh,” the couple both replied in unison and smiled.
“Have a seat,” the woman said, pulling Armin to sit with her on the couch.
“I will go check the stew on the fire,” the husband said and walked into the kitchen.
“Will you join us for lunch?” she offered, smiling, but Armin wasn’t in the mood for games.
“Where is he?… My dad.”
“He didn’t tell us,” the woman replied calmly.
Too calmly, that it irritated Armin.
“Then why are you here?”
“Your dad sold off the property to us. He said he was traveling off to start a new life across the country.” The man answered, coming out from the kitchen.
“Palm country or the entire country?” Armin asked, refusing to believe anything anymore.
“I didn’t mention a state, did I?”
Armin kept mute.
His dad had abandoned him again, only this time, he had sold off their home.
Now they had nowhere to return to.
Where would Archer come back to?
He covered his face with his palms and buried it on his thighs as he wept bitterly.
His dad had successfully destroyed their family with his selfishness.
He felt a gentle hand on his back, stroking him tenderly.
“You are welcome to stay here until you can figure out things for yourself,” the woman’s voice was low and comforting.
He didn’t raise his head.
He heard the shuffling of feet and low grunts as the couple walked into the inner part of the house with hurried steps.
He lifted his head and stood up, following the sound.
“What are you doing? You can’t just invite a stranger into our home, Fifi,”
Armin stopped in his tracks and listened instead.
“Why, Titi? He’s just a poor boy who needs help.”
“He’s not a boy, Fifi, he’s a man,” the man interjected.
“Ahhh…” the woman replied.
“Fifi, don’t do that. You have seen him. He is the epitome of beauty; he could easily snatch you away from me.”
Armin heaved a loud sigh of exhaustion and slowly walked out of the house.
He couldn’t believe that while he was grieving his broken family, someone was seeing him as a threat to their own family, only because of his looks.
He opened the front door and walked out.
The car was gone; he wished he had asked the driver to wait.
As he walked off the terrace, he heard the woman’s voice behind him again, inviting him to join them for lunch before leaving.
He ignored her and continued walking ahead.
He didn’t know where to go next, but he certainly knew he didn’t belong in that house anymore.
He kept walking until he got to the bus stop.
He sat at the shelter, staring into the void.
Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours.
When he finally came back to his senses, the sun was setting.
He joined a bus to uptown; he was going to his previous boss at the garage.
When he got there, he couldn’t find the garage.
In its place was a small everyday grocery store.
Armin couldn’t believe his eyes.
What was going on?
What had happened to everything he had ever known in a matter of a few days?
He clutched his hair strands and tightly pulled at them in frustration.
Why?
Why was everything going astray?
Did he escape from Valerius, only to be struck with misfortunes?
He grabbed a seat in front of the mall and sat down.
An older woman came out of the mall to ask him if he wanted to buy anything.
He suddenly remembered the cash in his pocket.
He walked into the store and bought some packets of cookies, a bottle of mineral water, and two cups of ready-to-eat noodles.
He paid at the counter with the cash, walked back to the seat, and started eating his noodles.
When he finished eating the noodles and cookies, he was still feeling hungry.
He finally accepted that his life had become a mess thanks to Alicia and Valerius.
Back in the day, he could survive a day on one apple when there was no food—and there was almost never any food—but now, he was eating a lot like a greedy fat kid.
He walked back in to ask the cashier for directions to any nearby restaurant when his eyes fell on the newspaper rack.
The word “chainsaw” written on the front page stood out the most to him.
With shaking hands, he picked one out.
‘If this has anything to do with what happened that night, then it is certified that I have been cursed to go hand in hand with trouble’, he thought out loudly.
He read the headline out loud: “Man murdered in his home in Aston Villa, Central City with a chainsaw.”
A censored photo was displayed.
‘Uncensored photograph inside’, was written beneath it in red letters.
Armin held his breath as he frantically flipped through the pages.
And there it was, clear as day, the butchered, dismembered body of the stranger he had met yesterday.
He quickly read through the news.
“His throat was slit through by a sharp claw of an entity or person before his body was hacked with a chainsaw.”
Armin looked through the pictures, his reflux threatening to cause a scene.
The stranger’s eyes were still widely open and his tongue was all the way out.
Carved on it was a single word: “V.”
The world spun around him violently as a heavy wave of nausea hit him.
Armin flung the paper at the cashier and dashed outside.
His reflux came crashing and he vomited all the food he had eaten.
His body was trembling.
“No,” he whispered as his stomach shot up and he vomited again.
Hot tears streamed down his face.
He didn’t know if he should be grateful that the corpse wasn’t him or…
The word was suddenly too hard for him.
He fell on his knees as he clutched his arms together, shivering in a sudden cold.
“Oh Valerius… what have you done!”