Sword 1: Myth

SCARLETTE'S POINT OF VIEW

"It is bedtime. Go sleep." I frowned when Dad stood up and walked towards the television. He turned it off! "Dad, let me finish that movie first," I pouted my lips, "Please." His eyes narrowed into slits.

"Dear, it is nine o'clock already." I looked at my red watch. Oh, yeah. It was already nine. I should be asleep by eight o'clock. I arranged my soft, pink pillow before wrapping myself in my white blanket. I meant not totally. I left my face uncovered.

"Dad, bedtime story, please." Dad took a deep breath. "Okay. Fine." I smiled. He sat beside me. "What kind of story do you want to hear?"

"You choose," I responded.

"How about a myth of a swordsman?" I simply nodded my head. "Sounds interesting, huh?" I never heard something like that before.

"Okay. Listen."

"I am listening, Dad." He chuckled. "Obviously." I secretly rolled my eyes. Dad is somewhat . . . stupid sometimes.

He cleared his throat. "Long time ago, there was a great swordsman. The people at that time called him a 'hero'." My imagination flew when I heard the word 'hero'. "Why, Dad? Does he have superpowers? Like flying? Magic?"

"Dear, not all heroes have superpowers." I was a bit disappointed upon hearing that. But, a part of me was amazed! Come to think of it. He was a hero even he did not have powers! "Okay, Dad. Continue."

"That swordsman helped many people. That's why the Hetarnia goddesses created a magical sword and gave it to him."

"Wow! What is the name of the sword and . . . what it looks like?"

"Hetar sword, Dear."

"Whoa." I could feel my eyes sparkling. "Sounds so enchanting."

"But, I do not know how it looks."

"It is fine, Dad. What happened next to the swordsman?"

"He―"

"Tok! Tok! Tok!" My eyes widened when we heard someone knocking on the closed door. How could someone knock on it? It was just the two of us―Dad and me―who were inside our house.

"Oh no," Dad whispered. He quickly turned back his eyes on me. "No matter what, do not get out until I return."

"What is happening?" My heartbeat became fast. "Scarlette?" He stared at me with his serious face. "D-dad . . . "

"Promise me." I started to panic. "D-dad, I-I am scared . . . "

"Shush . . . do not be. Just wait here. I will come back."

My body trembled as I watched him go outside and lock the door. I could not hear any noises aside from my heartbeat because this room was soundproof. I had no idea what was happening outside.

It was almost an hour but still, Dad did not come back and it gave me the urge to go out.

"Da―" I gasped when I saw him lying on the floor. His head was right in front of my feet. I kneeled beside him. "Dad, wake up. This is not your bed." I chuckled. He was the first one who asked me to sleep but he was the one who slept first. "Dad?"

I panicked when I accidentally touched his cheek. It was so cold! Then I immediately checked his wrist. "D-dad . . . " I called him but still, no response. I could not feel his heartbeat. "N-no. I-it cannot be . . . " Tears started to fall from my eyes.

"Dad!"

That dream again. No, I mean . . . it is a memory. I do not know why I keep on dreaming about it.

I stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

Maybe, it is because that was my last memory with Dad. Yes, he died. According to the autopsy performed on his corpse, he died because of a heart attack. I was just ten-year-old back then.

The knocking on the door of my room before he died is still a mystery. When I checked the records of security cameras after that incident, it did not have any records that someone knocked on it before Dad went out. It was really weird. I sighed.

Now, I am sixteen, a senior high school student in a famous university.

I quickly prepared my breakfast (an egg sandwich and a cup of brown coffee) and ate it up before taking a bath.

Maybe, you are thinking who is with me? Nah, I am just alone. I live alone in this huge house. My parents already died you know. My mom died after she gave birth to me. I have an aunt who took care of me until I was thirteen but she is now in the United States of America. She decided to bring me with her but I refused. I do not want to leave so she just let me stay.

"Another day for me," I whispered to myself. I tied my hair into a ponytail before running to school.

Hi! I am Scarlette Sevilla, a simple girl with a simple life.

What did I say earlier? A part of it was not true. It should be 'a simple girl with a stressful life'.

"Bring out a whole sheet of paper. We will have a long quiz," our chemistry teacher said. I frowned as the other students did. "Not again," I muttered. I forgot to review my notes!

"Miss Sevilla?" I bit my lower lip when the teacher called my name. Awkwardly, I smiled. "What is it, Sir?" I asked.

His handsome face frowned when I lifted my face. "Is there anything wrong?"

'There is! And that is your difficult subject!' I wanted to answer that but I couldn't. Of course, I have respect. "Nothing, Sir," I responded.

"You look pale."

"I am always pale, Sir. It is normal to me."

"Oh," he was somewhat hesitant, "okay. Let us start." Sir, please, I already have 'a stressful life'. Please, Sir, do not make it 'a very stressful life'. It drives me crazy!