The Curse Of A Stranger's Gift 12 The Encounter

She sat, breathing heavily as her head started turning. The thought that she's drank lingered in her head. Perhaps, her parents enjoyed her eighteenth birthday too much that they've forgotten Zheira's not into drinking alcohol.

It's not until she felt the brick-like surface of the bed did she realized something. They did not celebrate her birthday the way they used to. An incredulous event took everything from her by killing the man who treated her like his daughter even if they just adopted her.

A wave of sadness surged through her heart. She could feel it shattering to pieces, and there's nothing she could do to ease the weight pressing deep within her.

Her tears trailed pa.s.sed her cheeks. She wrapped her knees with her arms and leaned her head to it; succ.u.mbing to the depth of her loneliness. She'd never imagined being separated from her parents. They pampered her with love and care, so it never crossed her mind that something like this would happen. It's the worst. Their strings were cut on the day of her birth. It would have been nice if they could celebrate it like before.

Her last birthdays were simple. No guests. No party. Just her and her parents. They would sing a birthday song, plant a soft kiss on her cheeks, and offer her a gift. She would then blow the candle on her cakes with a wish that they could have a more fruitful year. The sequence had been going on for years. She never antic.i.p.ated it to be ruined in just one blow.

A cold, deep voice rented the room. It made the hair on the back of her neck stood at its end. "There's no point shedding tears. s.h.i.+ts happened for a reason and unless you accept it, you'll never move on."

Zheira gulped before her eyes wandered. There wasn't any sign of someone in the room. Aside from the rusty furniture in the corner and a wooden cabinet, there's nothing. She wondered where the voice came from. It's surely from this room. How could she possibly hear it if it's not near? Maybe, he used a microphone or something.

She almost jumped with fright when a figure landed on the wooden ground with a thud. He was wearing a gray cloak that concealed his body, so as his features.

"W—who a—are you?" she manages to ask.

The figure inclined his head, scrutinizing every bit of Zheira. Her eyes were back to its reddish shade. Like what he guessed, the immortality was limited until the eclipse was done. Her body was way too weak to bear such a heavyweight. It was lucky the moon stopped the process of turning her immortal. She would have been dead. Her body would explode.

"I s—said who a—are you?" She retreated by kicking her legs to the bed until her back hit the wall.

He sighed. "I'm Vladimir, Zheira. Nice meeting you." His hood dangled on his back when he brushed it away from his face.

A wild gasp issued from her throat. "Y—you!" Her shaking finger pointed at him. She couldn't believe her eyes. The man in her memory appeared in front of her, and she didn't know how to react. She'd been wondering who he was and what he did to her, but she'd never really care enough to find him. She's not that strong to even leave the safety of their house just to locate a man she's not aware to be a friend or a foe. "W—what did you do t—to me? W—why am I l—like this? Did y—you bewitched me? D—did you make me a monster?" Her hands moved involuntarily in the air as she released all the questions she'd been prepared to ask the man who made her drink his blood.

Vladimir crossed his arms. "For now, Zheira. You only need to know that I saved you."

Her brow creased. "Y—you s—save me from what?"

"Are you ready to know the truth?" He looked at her straight in the eye, but she looked down and started playing with her hands.

"I—I don't know." She shook her head rapidly and let her tears comfort her once more.

"I said enough from crying. That's exactly why you're weak. You let your emotions conquer you. I shouldn't have let those stupid mortals raised you. They've spoiled you too much—"

Zheira's shaking hands balled to a fist. "Don't you dare call them s—stupid. They're the best parent I've ever had—"

"Stop with your dreams, Zheira. If they really love you, they shouldn't have thrown you out. Melinda knew you weren't the one who killed her husband but what did she do? She blamed you and even shut you out of the hotel. If they knew how special you are, they would have died bringing you back." His pale lips curled with menace. "How I wish to rip their throat."

"H—how did you know t—that?" Her voice broke as she suppressed another series of tears to break through. She didn't want Vladimir to shout at her once more. Her parents did not raise their voices at her even once, and that's why she felt a pain in her heart if someone yelled at her.

Vladimir leaned against the wall and gave Zheira a piercing stare. "I know everything. Let's just say that I've been keeping an eye on you."

"B—but w—why? W—why are you d—doing these things? You even saved me from those nurses. A—are we related to each other? A—are you my brother?" Her heart started racing. Ever since she found out that she's not related to the Martins, she'd wondered where her families were. What they're doing? How do they look like? And most importantly, why they'd abandoned her. Since she couldn't put a face to those she's related with, she started imagining that the man who dripped his blood to her was her brother.

For a teensy moment, his brows draw together; it screwed his placid face. However, she buried it with a small smile. "Let's just say that I'm a friend of your parents and they asked me to guard you—"

"W—where are t—they?" Zheira's lips curved sadly. She must admit that she's somehow disappointed. She's been anxious to meet even just one of her family, but fate wasn't allowing it. It's being s.a.d.i.s.tic as ever.

"That, Zheira would be your prize," Vladimir said with a cold smile. "If you can show me a little improvement, I'll allow you to meet them. However, if you would be as weak as you have always been, I'll guarantee that you'll never have an inkling idea who and where they are."

"W—what?" she yelled with bulging eyes.

"You'll have no choice but to do as I say or do you want to go back to New York with the family who abandoned you?" He looked down at her. "Choose!"

"Y—you aren't serious, a—are y—you?" She gulped.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" The corner of his lips raised a little. He might not admit it, but he's enjoying cornering her. He had no intention, whatsoever, to return her to the family who inflected an emotional scar to the precious girl he's been cheris.h.i.+ng. She's just giving her an option even if he knew that both choices would not be good for her. For once, he wants to be greedy. He'd been waiting for a time to be with her, and now that it happened, he'll never let anything obstruct his way.

He tapped his shoes when Zheira became silent for a whole minute. "We don't have an eternity, Zheira. What's your deal. Are you going back or will you stay? Will you turn your back to your real parents or will you steer towards them? Your choice." Perhaps, making her parents as bait would make her stay. It's his last card. He didn't like forcing her, so he's planting some reasons for her to do what he wants without force.

Zheira heaved a deep sigh. "Fine! I want to know more about my parents," she said. 'I want to know why they abandoned me. Maybe then, I would be able to justify the means to hate them more,' she supplied in her thought.

"Lovely." He clapped and smiled. His heart felt so light. "Now, I'll give you time to change. Once you're done, go out and by then, your breakfast will be ready." His hand gripped the door k.n.o.b, but he didn't open it yet. "Before I forgot. Do something with your tongue. It's bothersome to hear you stumble in every word you utter, and it's rude not to look at the person you're talking with. Try to practice eye-contact. Understand?"

When Zheira nodded, Vladimir smiled and made his exit; antic.i.p.ating the good days to come.