Burned By Desire

Vanessa:

"Please, Dad... Please, don't make me do this." I pleaded with my father. My voice breaks, and my eyes suddenly become moist as I try to hold back my tears.

"It's been eight years, Vanessa. Eight good years. What makes you think you can just come back here and ask for money?" His words pierced through my heart, causing me to break down even more.

I feel a teardrop roll down my cheek as I continue to beg my father."I beg you, Dad... My little boy is lying helplessly at the hospital; he needs me now more than ever. I can't just abandon him now."

"Give me a break. He's not even your real son," he retorted.

"What!? He is a six-year-old with leukaemia, and all you could say is this? What about me, uh, am I not your daughter!?" I yell in resentment, my tears pouring freely now.

Elvis happens to be the son of my best friend. He might not be my biological son, but adopting him as my own was the slightest kindness I could show after all his mother did for me.

She was not only a best friend; she was more like a sister, and after her death, I made a promise to always look after her son. And now that he has leukaemia, I was willing to do anything to make sure he gets better.

"You made your choice when you decided to cut ties with your own family, Vanessa!" He yells back before sitting on a single-seater sofa, placing one of his legs over the thigh of the other leg and sipping from the drink he has in his hand.

"And you think getting married to Scot Greyson is the best thing to do?" I asked, sobbing.

I went down on my knees, both my hands pressed together to further portray my pleading heart to my father, who sat down in front of me with the slightest concern on his face. "Please, don't make me marry a man I do not love. I promise to pay back the money, but please don't make me marry him!" I begged.

He scoffed and went silent for a moment as he took another sip from his drink. This was not the man I used to know.

My father used to be a caring and overprotective man who would never refuse to grant any of my desires.

A man who was ready to go the extra mile just to make sure I was happy and satisfied. He was not the richest parent, but the endless love and support he showed were way more than anything a child could ask for. Where did all that love go? I ask myself.

"We both know you have no job. Come on, Vanessa, this is the only way you can repay me," he announced.

I tilted my head to the side where my stepmother, Shirley, was leaning against the doorway, her arm wrapped around her chest. I quickly ran up to her. "Please... help me talk to my father. He's just a little ki-"

"Don't you touch me!" She yelled and pushed me back, stopping me from touching her any further.

"Just look at yourself," she says after examining me for a second. I didn't realise that I had become a crying mess.

"Don't you have any shame? Coming back here after eight years. Do you think you can just waltz back in here and expect us to embrace you with open arms and give you whatever you asked for? No, that's never going to happen." She snaps, and I flinch from where I was.

I didn't expect her to be of any help since she was the reason I had left in the first place. Ever since my father married her, our home has been a chaotic mess, all because she wanted her daughter to get the attention of my father.

And by doing so, I was the scapegoat of her deceptive scheme, which left an everlasting crack in the relationship I had with my father. I couldn't keep up with the torture both she and her daughter made me go through; I had no choice but to leave after they successfully turned my father against me.

And even after eight years, he still dances to their tune.After I left, I'd promised myself never to set foot into this house, let alone ask for help from them.

But here I am, back at the very same house where I would presumably commit a felony just so I wouldn't get to enter.

At this point, I didn't care about how hurtful and deep their words might affect me. I was beyond vulnerable, and all I wanted was to save my little boy.

I didn't come back so they could welcome me back home, far from it. I wouldn't want to live under the same roof as my stepmother and sister.

"I gave you an option, Vanessa; it is left for you to decide," my father announced, his brows tightening as he hoped to get an answer.I shake my head slowly in disgust, tears still plunging down my eyes, making my vision blurry. I tried to wipe my eyes with the back of my palm, but the more I tried, the more it streamed down.

"But I can't do-"A buzzing sound shrouded the room, cutting me off from speaking any further. My father dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He raises his index finger before he slides the answer button.

"Yes ,Arthur?... Right now?... Alright, I'm on my way," I hear my dad say into the phone as he lowers his glass of wine on a drink table next to him and stands up from where he was sitting.

"Since you have nothing else to say, then I better leave. I have some business to take care of."He adjusted his suit, took some calculated steps to where his wife was standing, and kissed her on the forehead before starting to walk to the door.

My heart sank, and my legs suddenly became straitlaced as I watched my father twist the knob of the door.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as different thoughts commandeered my mind, sending a fresh wave of panic through me. He was the last hope of help I had.

I try to convince myself it is for a good cause, but nothing seems to ease the rapid beat of my heart.

"Wait!!!"