Sinners ─ B. Watts

Are you John Davis' daughter?

CHAPTER ONE
August, 1950

     Violet's long chestnut locks were elegantly swept from her face by a chilly gust of wind as she strolled toward the airport's main gate. Traveling by plane had always been an exquisite pleasure for her. Amidst the thrill of chess tournaments and the captivating atmosphere they offered, flying, to her, embodied one of the finest aspects of being an international chess player. Though she appreciated visiting prominent attractions, a peculiar lassitude often dimmed her enthusiasm for such activities.

     Allow me to divulge the reason behind this peculiar ambivalence:

     Not too long ago, in the year 1945, Violet found herself bereaved of her father at the tender age of 18. To add to her plight, her mother, motivated by the prospect of a new solid union with someone else, one she genuinely loved, or perhaps someone who could provide the financial means she had now lost access to, decided to part ways with her daughter. 

"You're an adult now, my dear. It's time to care for yourself."

     While Violet acknowledged the truth in her mother's words, the weight of the decision hurt deeply, irrespective of her intelligence, talent, beauty, or success. The departure of her own mother felt akin to someone rubbing salt on open wounds. She had hoped that her passion for chess would be enough to bind them together, just as it had sustained her. She dreamt of making enough money for both of them, encouraging her mother to stay, learn, and heal together.

    But alas, reality proved harsh, and she had to swallow her grief.

     Reflecting on how she was thrust into adulthood at such a tender age, using her father's inheritance to start anew, distressed Violet. Nonetheless, she acknowledged that this man, John Davis, had played a pivotal role in shaping her into the independent lady she had become, as well as bestowing upon her the talent and strength that set her apart. She felt a deep sense of gratitude, and while she wasn't certain if she had ever loved him romantically, she harbored profound respect for her father. Furthermore, she was certain of one thing: he had unlocked the door to her true calling, the one person she could wholeheartedly trust, the one who encouraged her to strive for greatness.

     She wished she had adequately expressed her gratitude.

     In conclusion, Violet Davis bore the scars of life's battles, and once again, fate seemed to conspire against her. People began to label her as a cold, disdainful loner, primarily due to her refusal to address a multitude of journalists or reporters and her reluctance to show empathy or pity toward her opponents, even as she benefited from their mistakes and tactfully countered every foolish move. But why should she indulge in such behavior? Why should she lay bare her emotions and discuss her family matters in public? To invite judgment? That was simply not an option for Violet. She believed that a grieving woman had the right to mourn her father and come to terms with her past, for dealing with trauma was no easy task.

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          "Would you care for something to drink, Ms. Davis?"