Dad Returned from the Deserted Island
Chapter 3
The attic was dark, even in the middle of the day. The only light came through a window smaller than Vivian’s height.
“I'm scared...”
Vivian sobbed, curling up in the spot where even that sliver of light could reach. The dust made her cough repeatedly.
“Da-ad...”
No matter how sorrowfully she called out, her father, who had gone to heaven, never answered.
It was an evening when the rain began to fall.
Vivian, who had been crying as if to wring every drop of moisture from her body, felt her head begin to nod.
Perhaps it was a blessing that she was so exhausted from crying that sleep took her. The attic on a rainy evening felt all the more ominous.
As she drifted into sleep, a chill ran down her spine, and goosebumps rose on her skin.
“Wh-what is it?”
Vivian pricked up her ears like a rabbit and scanned the room with anxious eyes, until she finally met a pair of eyes watching her from the darkness.
Squeak.
“...”
Squeak?
“Aaaah!”
Vivian let out a shrill scream at her encounter with the attic’s first guest: a rat.
If it had been smaller, would it have been less terrifying?
If it hadn't been glowing in the dark like that, would she have been less afraid?
Seeing the rat, which looked larger than her own forearm, Vivian scrambled toward the door in a panic.
“Ouch!”
She tripped over a box scattered on the floor and tumbled, rolling over, but she felt no pain.
“Mr. Ron! Mrs. Mary! Pl-please open the door. I was wrong! There’s a rat, a rat in here. I’m scared! Waaaah!”
As she pounded on the door with her small fists, the sound of footsteps approached, as if they had sensed something unusual.
Vivian’s face brightened instantly. They were coming to open the door!
But.
Bang!
“Eek!”
Startled by the sound of someone kicking the door hard from the other side, Vivian fell backward. Then, an irritated voice followed.
“Ugh, I'm trying to eat dinner, stop making such a racket! What’s the big deal about a rat? If you don't want to stay locked up until Sunday, keep quiet!”
“Mr. Ron, I was wrong. Please, let me out. I’ll apologize to Peter, too. I’ll even kneel if you want me to. I’m so scared. Please? You don't even have to give me bread. I’ll work hard. I’ll do anything you tell me to!”
Even at the sound of the child’s pitiful, sobbing pleas, the person on the other side of the door remained indifferent.
Ron, who was picking food from between his teeth, said, “You said you'd do anything?”
“Yes, yes! So please, sir!”
“Hmm, alright. Wait a moment.”
Soon after, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed.
Vivian, who had been sitting on the floor, jumped up.
“Thank you, sir!!”
Ron waved his hand dismissively, as if annoyed, and gestured for her to follow him.
Afraid he might change his mind, Vivian quickly hurried after Ron.
‘Ouch.’
As she followed Ron down the stairs, Vivian felt a sting and looked down at her hand.
She must have scraped it on the floor when she fell while running from the rat; there was a wound on her palm. Seeing a little blood, she wiped it off on her apron.
“What is this? Honey, why did you let her out already? You said just a moment ago that we should keep her locked up for 2 more days.”
Mary, who saw Vivian appear in the dining room, scowled. Peter, sitting across from her, gave Vivian a nasty look.
“I let her out because there was a reason. Vivian. Sit there for a moment.”
“Yes!”
Hearing that they had intended to keep her locked up for 2 more days, Vivian answered in a spirited voice, her determination high.
‘Come to think of it, it’s been a long time since I sat at the table!’
Ron and Mary never let Vivian sit at the table. To begin with, they only ever threw her a piece of hard black bread, so there was never any reason for her to sit at the table to eat.
“Mom, my elbow hurts.”
Peter whined to Mary. Seeing him unnecessarily flaunting the wound he got from falling down the stairs, Vivian curled her lip in annoyance.
“Oh, eat your dinner and we'll put some medicine on it later, my son.”
“Ugh. I don't like it because it stings.”
“You still have to put it on so it heals quickly.”
“...”
Vivian’s expression darkened as she watched the affectionate mother and son. It was because the reality hit her that she would never receive such affection.
Just then, Ron, who had stepped away, returned. He was holding some papers and an ink bottle.
“Now, Vivian. You see this? Just dip your thumb in the ink and press it here.”
“Wh-what is this?”
“Does that matter? You said you’d do anything I told you to, so stop complaining and just press it.”
There was writing on the paper, but Vivian, who had never properly learned to read, couldn't understand what it meant at all.
When Vivian hesitated due to a vague, ominous feeling, Ron grabbed her arm firmly.
“Ah! It hurts, sir!”
“You can't even read, so why are you being so suspicious? Do you think I’d do something bad to you?”
‘You've done plenty!’
Swallowing the words she couldn't dare to say, Vivian braced herself, tensing her body as much as she could.
But a young child who was barely fed could not withstand the strength of an adult man.
Ron practically poured the ink over Vivian’s hand.
Tears welled up in Vivian’s eyes from the pain, as if her arm were being torn off.
“I-It hurts.”
“If you don't want it to hurt, hurry up and press it!”
The paper Ron was forcing upon her was, in fact, an engagement document.
A document containing a promise that Vivian de Lambert and Peter Dozier would marry once they came of age.
He had stopped to get it while taking Peter to the doctor earlier.
Usually, a signature was required, but for a young child who couldn't write, a thumbprint was used instead.
Just as Ron, having forced Vivian’s thumb open, was about to press it onto the paper.
Bang, bang, bang!
Someone pounded on the front door violently.
“What is it? Who is it at this hour, knocking like they’re going to break the door down?!”
“You go see. It might be something urgent.”
Mary urged Ron on with an irritated voice. Ron threw Vivian’s hand aside and left with angry footsteps.
‘Ow, it hurts.’
Vivian rubbed her throbbing hand with her other hand and swallowed her tears. She felt such pain that she wished whoever was outside would just drag Ron away.
And as if the heavens had suddenly decided to grant Vivian’s wish.
“Aaaah!”
“Honey! What’s wrong? Who came?”
Ron screamed. Mary stood up in surprise and headed toward the entrance to see what was happening.
“Aaaah, h-how are you?!”
As even Mary screamed, Peter and Vivian’s heads naturally turned toward the doorway.
“A-A ghost!”
“Peter! My son!”
Mary ran into the dining room in a panic. Ron was backing away, as if trying to block something from entering the room.
‘What is it? Did a bear appear?’
Vivian wondered if she should hide under the table.
“Mom!”
Peter hugged Mary, and Mary wrapped her arms around her son as if to hide him. At the same time, the intruder entered the dining room.
He was a head taller than Ron.
His brown hair was darkened further by the rain.
The man, with a messy beard covering his entire face, was so muscular that even a large cloak couldn't hide it.
The man’s blue eyes, which had been scanning the dining room quickly as if searching for something, fixed on Vivian.
The man’s murderous aura subsided in an instant.
“...”
Her small frame was little different from when he had last seen her. Her cheeks, which had once been pleasantly chubby, were gaunt, and her eyes were red as if she had just been crying, her lips chapped.
She was, by any measure, a child who had been abused.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, the man called out to Vivian.
“My daughter.”
It was a voice filled with sorrow, yet overflowing with longing and affection.
Though it was a bit raspy, it was not an unfamiliar voice.
No, it was the voice she had longed for even in her dreams, the voice she had so desperately wanted to hear.
Vivian’s eyes welled up, and her vision blurred. After wiping her tears with her dust-covered sleeve, she looked at the man.
Vivian opened her mouth.
“Who are you?”
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