Chapter Forty-Two

They wouldn’t listen.

Viktoriya perhaps had been through too much trauma. Or, maybe, it could be that the weight of Earth’s peril was getting to her.

Whatever it was, her parents paid no heed to anything that would deter them from their mission. Their goal was to save as many people as possible with the ark.

No matter how much ‘proof’ their daughter brought, or how many things she knew she wasn’t supposed to, or what unbelievable, mythical solutions she dreamed of.

All they saw was a child who spent too much time drifting into imaginary worlds with no substance, then sneaking around in the house and wandering into places she should not.

They saw a reckless child who ignored the dire consequences of her actions, placing herself in terrible danger, even almost getting herself killed.

“You are not listening!” she had screamed at one point, folding her arms tightly, digging her fingers into her forearms.

And for a moment, her dad had stopped, dropped the bag he held and moved toward her. He leaned closer and placed one knee on the ottoman, so he was the same height as her.

He stared into her eyes, and even though they had been filled with care and affection as that of a father experiencing his newly delivered infant, Viktoriya saw the words they shouted.

She was broken, or at least that was what those ever-caring eyes thought of her.

A broken masterpiece.

Rosa brushed her hair behind her ear with his hand, then softly placed his hand on her cheek, each gesture a sign of his affection.

He softly caressed her arms. “We are listening, kiddo. We’ve always been listening.”

Viktoriya was calm. She could not make sense of her father’s reaction, or at least not at first, but when he stared into her eyes, she knew his intentions were genuine. Except he was not looking at her with love.

There was a hollowness in his eyes.

A look of sadness lingered just around his gaze, and while he stared at her, it was as though he wanted to cry.

Was his heart breaking?

It was like he was gazing upon their favorite treasure, only to find it undone.

Undone.

That must be what her parents saw when they looked at her.

The overwhelming force of tears overpowered her, making their way in through her eyes, filling them up.

She raised her eyes to her mother’s, seeking something less judgmental than what she had expected.

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Instead, dark thoughts encircled Viktoriya and began to criticize her, to taunt her.

She had been demanding all her life.

They don’t know me. Who I am?

I have turned their life upside down.

Instead of bringing happiness to my parents, I’ve become a burden instead.

Were they tiring of it all? Was loving her too much for them?

She raced out of her father’s grip.

“Vik!” he called.

She could not stand there any longer. She was unlovable and did not know how to love. Sharp burning aches slowly torched her from inside. She felt her voice rise inside her, against her own will, and all she wanted was to scream out the anger and frustration.

Everything.

It was as though the walls were closing in on her, and all she could do was scream her way through it, but she held on until she was safely within her room, plunging into her bed.

She screamed her lungs out into her pillow, and for a split second, it felt better; it felt good. It felt like it washed everything down the drain. Soon enough, the all-familiar frigid, stabbing pain engulfed her, slowly rewinding its way up her chest, around her back, and up her neck, and the feeling returned.

She flashed back to the school day, the day when the boys hurt and bullied her.

She saw every detail as if it were happening again.

“I hit the floor; they didn’t even say they were sorry; instead—they blamed me. They are the ones who threw the ball. I was just being me. I bled. What do they fear from me, to hurt me in such a way, and then blame me? How can they live with themselves? Why should I save any of them?”

She squeezed herself tightly, letting out the choking scream again.

She gasped for another deep breath, causing her lungs to prick with pain until no more air could enter her body. She then released the blast of her scream into the audible ends of the universe.

Then again.

Her body quivered, her head curled between her knees, and it was all she could do just to remain there.

I can’t stop shaking.

Her parents could not love her.

She could not love her parents.

The thoughts continually taunted her now as unwelcome visitors. Visitors who stayed much too long and desired to move in permanently.

Her screams were the only way to relieve herself of the burning anguish that had raided her mind and invaded every atom in her being.

But then the door slid open.

“Viktori-Ya, may I come in please?” the machine voice called softly before standing beside her.

Viktoriya rushed into CLEFF’s arms, banging against him, hugging him tightly as though if she let him free for one second, he could fade away.

“They don’t believe me,” she muttered.

“My thoughts, my ideas are nothing to them. Why should I even try?”

His broad arms held the fragile girl.

She cried into him.

“They think I am having delusions… or I am divergent. They are going to make me see a doctor, I know it.”

He did not know what to say or how to respond to her dilemma, so instead, he remained there, metallic arms gently wrapped around her, just well enough to support her, but not too tightly that she would feel smothered. But then it came to him.

“You should try, Viktori-Ya. You should try, even if only for me. I believe in you. Do it for me. Viktori-Ya, we can prove it to them. You and I,” he continued, with what could only be construed as a bit of hope in his voice.

“What? How?” she asked, pulling back to look at his glowing green eyes.

“We can take everything that you know, learn the rest, everything; then you can apply your formulas and then build it. If you prove it can be constructed, then they must believe you,” he said, searching for a response in Viktoriya’s eyes.

After her parents gave her a moment of privacy with CLEFF, they approached her room to see how she was.

“We do love you, kiddo,” her parents said softly, standing just outside her doorway.

Her mom placed her hand on her mouth, attempting to hide her quivering lip, repeatedly blinking her eyes, trying to stop the invading tears that formed.

Her dad continued, “We’ve always been listening, and we have always loved you. No matter what happens, no matter what we are going through or the outcome. Always.”

Her mom softly echoed, “I’m so sorry. I have tried to listen better and understand you, but I feel like I’m failing regardless of what I do. I tried so hard to be the mom you needed that I think I’ve lost my way of being the mom you desired.

“I’m very sorry, Vik.”