Trigger King

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

I was a puppet to the Castellanos show as I let Viktor Ricaforte used my hand to pleasure himself. And I caught my father's triumphant smile and in his mind I was aiming for excellence because I was doing what he exactly wanted me to do. And that is to be used by Viktor, for the family, I dug those words to my mind.

The engagement party ended without any problems. Gustave was so happy because I was doing something for the family. My dear mother...she looked so pained. But I smiled to Mama because I didn't want her to be burdened.

Agad akong dumiretso sa aking art room na nakakonekta sa aking kwarto. This was a gift from my father. It was my prized possession on my eighteenth birthday.

Hinayaan niya akong magkaroon ng art room sa isang kondisyon at 'yon ay ang hindi ko pag-pursue ng college. No more art degree. Stupid, Cherry, what will you do in college? those were his biting words when I asked him that I would like to make a living in painting.

His eyes challenged me. My mother on my side that time, shook her head. Her eyes were begging me again not to say what I wanted to say to Papa: I deserve a career and that I'm not just a mere puppet.

I am a woman to begin with. As I grow older in Castellanos family, I begin to question my worth. And the worst thing is I feel less and less as a human being and not just a woman anymore.

I've been painting while Mozart's songs were playing on the background. To clear my mind. My strokes in paintbrush and color combinations were mastered in years of painting, nobody taught me how to master painting. Painting is low-class for Papa.

Even college...just help the family, attend social events, and smile in those events, my father enumerated those things to me in his study. In other words, I just need to be a trophy, something to be look at when there's a party, something to be lust for horny dogs like Viktor and Faustino Ricaforte. Do you understand me, Cherry? my father asked and that was the last time that we talked about studying and having a career.

With a trembling voice and weak disposition, I said: Yes, Papa. I said 'yes' for being a puppet. I said 'yes' for having no freedom.

My hand gripped the paintbrush with a brute force. I just used any colors that would come to my mind: red for Papa and Gustave for their hunger for blood and money, gray for my mother's hopelessness and black for my soulless life.

I think that was the reason why my father never stole a glance to my painting. He hated my painting because I didn't give any lavish representation of our family in my creation. It was always dark, terrifying and didn't look grand like the Colombian and Roman style of painting that he likes.

I smirked as I continued doing my craft and it was a Gothic dystopian post apocalyptic surreal painting. The scenery is dark yellow; red orange blood scattered on the ground and buildings were destroyed like Pompeii. It was a wrecked place and let's just say that this place is the infamous Castellanos mansion.

Nakakatawa ang mga tao kung minsan ay bilib na bilib sila sa panlabas na anyo ng isang lugar o tao. Hindi nila alam na nasa loob ay napakawalang saysay ng buhay nito o sabihin na natin na sa loob ng isang magarbong pamamahay ay may mga demonyong halang ang kaluluwa ang mga nakatira. "Cherry," the soft voice of my mother stopped me from finishing my dark painting.

Lumapit siya sa akin at hinawakan ang aking balikat marahil ay para mabawasan ang kanyang pighati o para naman tumahimik ang kanyang konsiyensiya lalo na't wala siyang ginagawang pagkontra sa mga kababuyang pinapagawa sa akin. "Dios mio, Cherry Ann!" sigaw ng aking ina't agad niyang sinara ang pintuan ng aking art room na nakatiwangwang.