Of Nightmares and Choices

Chapter 2

 SINCLAIR

Training Room, 1983

I STAND CORRECTED!!! THIS MAN IS FROM HELL!!! THE DEEPEST AND DARKEST CORNER OF THE SIX PATHS OF HELL! NOTHING LIKE MY GENTLE FATHER AT ALL!!!!

I imagine that this might seem funny from a reader's perspective. The father I thought was an angel was a complete opposite from my first impression. HE'S SPARTAN THROUGH AND THROUGH!!!

I tried in futile to get my breathing back to normal, but I know from experience is all in vain. My lungs ache from oxygen deprivation, my skin is all sticky with sweat and my legs burn from the building lactic acid. Turns out this is what weak-kneed damsel in distress princesses gets when you get a spartan father of a questionable -

"Kyaa!!"

"Less monologuing and put more work into it mia Bambina." His voice carried over the track field as I 'put more work into it' as if I hadn't been slaving over here!! I heard the telltale of a familiar click and cursed my chubby legs to go freaking faster! I want to live!!!

I thank the skies after the whole tor- training session was over. Soaking my aching body into the bathtub I let myself be one with the water.

I feel cheated on. I really thought he was an angel. A fallen angel more accurately. One that fell to the deepest and darkest of the six paths and came out victorious over the other entities there is.

I know this is being done for my own good. The training. He just doesn't want a repeat of what could happen to me if left to my own clumsy mess. I was becoming a no-good daughter. And he won't accept that. I also, to myself, don't want to accept that.

"But it still hurts," I whined to myself as I gave a massage to my poor aching muscles.

I can see a crying emoji pop right on the top of my head.

Damn. I miss technology. #sadlife

I mean, this isn't the primordial era, but I've lived so long with the comfort of Android phones and all the things that came with the 21st century that I can't help but find this place lacking in a sense, I know, I am being an ungrateful brat but... never mind. The nagging apocalypse to come. I don't even know if it will come really. Maybe this place just looks like the game. And has the names like the game. It's been two years since I had woken up and found myself regaining a second set of memories. And I can tell you just what an experience that was.

#Donotrecommend. No one even asked me if I want to experience this...

I've read about this kind of thing, transmigration, and incarnation alike... It never occurred to me that it could happen. It all seems fictional until it slams you in the head and in my case, it slammed the Aviary literally. She fell down the stairs and cracked her head open. Next thing she knows, she's in the hospital, unlikely to live, made a wish on a whim and then next thing I know I have a second set of memories replaying in my head. Which is which? Good question. Unlike the novels though, I am not going to go through an existential crisis because this, what is seemingly supposed to be a virtual reality, is now my reality. Papa Sinclair's training is THAT Spartan that it made me accept that fact swiftly with no room for second-guessing if I should be placed in a loony-bin. Aching muscles aside. He also actually tutors me. Since waking up, he is my one-for-all teacher.

"If hypothetically I am in the world of Biohazard... a place full of controversy, manipulation, illegal use of biological wibbly-wobbly stuff and people filled with a god-complex.. I am doomed... Funnily enough, when I say it out loud, it seems so familiar and like the year 2019 I know."

I sank myself further into the warm water and let myself look back on what I knew. Only emerging after a good half an hour soak.

"You sure took your time in the bath mia Bambina." Papa's voice echoed into my place by the stairs as I descend.

"Sorry Papa, I just really love bath time. It helps me relax and I might have also fallen asleep a bit." I sheepishly pad through the kitchen door and saw him dressed down to black slacks, and his iconic burnt-orange dress shirt. Yes. That's him dressed down. The smell of Pasta Pomodoro wafted into the air and it really made my tummy growl.

He gave a helpless sigh as he saw me from the corner of his eyes drooling over the wonderful smell. "Set the table mia Bambina and I'm just about done."

I scrambled over the cabinet and pulled out the necessary dishes and cutlery. Papa is traditional when it comes to table setting and manners and he expects me to follow suit. Setting them all about the table, I sat down and eagerly wait for him to finish.

"Here, mi Cielo." He placed a glass of grape juice before me and helped himself to a glass of wine. A piping hot dish of pasta made from scratch before our plates. I grabbed a serving fork and placed a good amount of it into my waiting plate.

"Yum~"

Unknowingly amusing my ever-watching father. He placed a hand on top of my head and gently smoothed over my tangled hair.

After placing a forkful into my eager mouth, I grabbed the serving fork again and placed a good amount into his empty plate.

"Eat up too Papa." I gave him a dimpled smile and continued my glutinous conquest over my plate.

"Grazie."

This is our usual evening. After 4 hours of rigorous tort-training, we wind down and complete the day with a family dinner. Sometimes we talk about our day, sometimes we talk about the news, sometimes Papa talks about his colleagues filled with colorful people but most of the time, dinner is just reserved for a relaxing silence. Papa's not talkative in nature but if you start a conversation with him, he won't run out of things to talk about. He has a vast field of knowledge. He is a tutor for a living. At least, a private one for rich people.

"Mia Bambina." Finishing his food, Papa Sinclair placed his cutlery down neatly. He leaned back in his chair and waited for me to finish my plate.

"Yes Papa?" I tilted my head and copied his movements. Minus the waiting.

He gave a wry smile and patted my head. "It seems that my vacation is over. I must... report back to my... boss. Do you think you can be left alone by yourself and make sure to not sustain any injuries while I'm gone?" His dark eyes stared into mine. Looking at every minuscule movement I make.

"I can try Papa. I'm a big girl now. We won't want to make your boss wait longer than they have to after all." I gave a dimpled smile towards him and enjoy the petting sensation over my tangled locks.

"You say that, but I feel like I need a baby-sitter for you still." He gave my left cheek a squeeze and I know that it'll be red by the time he released it.

"You can call over someone you know if you doubt that I can survive a few days while you are away Papa. I'm just saying that you made sure yourself that I won't have a repeat mistake of what happened a little over a year ago."

His pinch might have gone a tad tighter.

"I'll be calling over an old friend then. I think you might remember her as Mrs. C during your first months of stay at our old house." He got up from his seat and pulled out his phone from his pocket.

Looks like that's settled then. My brown eyes follow him as he went towards the direction of the kitchen.

I wonder who Mrs. C is...