Chapter 6

"Ahh!" Cinthye gasped for air, clutching her aching chest. Another nightmare, another day to live. Her eyes automatically looked for her mother. The white sheets where she leaned her head on to sleep was empty like a ghost. Her mother was nowhere to be seen. She immediately stood up enduring her disoriented system. "The can't be!" 

She ran fast, push the door open and went to the reception. "Where's the patient in room 115?" Cinthye asked, wiping her tears. The woman, rather the nurse eyed her curiously. 

"You have to calm down ma'am—" 

Cinthye catched her hand and pulled it desperately. She doesn't care how bad or messy she looks. All she had to know was the whereabouts of her mother. The woman trying to pull her hand away from her. 

"I can't... Not until you tell me where the heck my mother is! Im begging you miss. I need to see her." She squeezed in between her sobs and hiccups. "She's important to me. She can't just disappear. She can't go please." 

"She's not here, Ma'am. The doctor took her—" The nurse said politely. 

"No! Please!" She exclaimed to herself running again, towards the elevator this time. Loudly pressing the ground floor. Her tears blinding her vision. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know where to go. She just wants to look for her mother no matter what. The elevator door finally opened. 

A loud slap slammed her body down on the concrete making her more dizzy. 

"You btch! How dare you decide your mother's surgery on your own! Don't you have a debt of gratitude? After all the things I have done for you!" Her father's rage flare. His strikes more powerful each time it reached her skin. Nobody dared to stop them. That's probably what it looks now. Like a pathetic female lead tortured by her family to gain sympathy. Who would dare to intervene? Honestly, she was used to this. 

Growing up, she always did her best yet no praises. Not even a single 'thank you' or 'you did well my daughter' from both of their parents. She felt invisible. Oh that was an understatement. She did not even exist in their world at least not as their daughter but as a tool used for convenience. Havana is the only one they ever looked at. They always acknowledge. 

"Haa!" Cinthye snorted sarcastically. She dragged herself up only to be slapped again. She felt his hand marks on her face, stinging so bad. Crimson red that will leave horrid looking purple bruises later. "Debt of gratitude? Is there something I should be thankful for? Really Father? Does that matter? Did I even matter to you? Am I even your daughter?" She spat painfully. Crushing her own heart to shard. But what more is left of her? Her heart is always torn into fragments. Her dignity? Oh please it never mattered to her. 

Her father grabbed her mouth squeezing it tightly together. His eyes wide and hysterical like an addict escaped from rehab center. 

"You were never my daughter. I don't have a child as pathetic and useless as you!" His grip leaving new marks of abuse on her delicate skin. Good thing no matter how much he humiliates her she no longer feels shame. Denouncing every ounce of love she tried to hold on the image she try to visualize. She knows she's mad. She shouldn't let her feelings get ahead of her. Or did she. 

A smirk appeared on her lips, her hand holding her father's wrist. Holding firmly before twisting it as his weight shifts with his hand. Cinthye pinned him down, his face hitting the floor. 

"Btch! Let go of me!" Her so called father grunted kissing the floor, tasting the dust on the concrete with his dirty mouth. 

"Good thing you admitted it. Assuming to be your daughter is the most pathetic decision I ever made. But worry not Father. I will do everything in my power to bring back out family." Emphasizing the family in her statement, her promise. 

She's mad. She's upset. But what can she do? If she let her emotions get better of her no one will execute her well thought out plan. Oh she's not gonna let that happen. A gambling father, sickly mother, envious sister and a crazy mafia don on the loose. So this is the grand plan for her life. 

Cinthye smacked the back of her father's head, instantly taking his consciousness away. The thing she hates the most is when someone wastes her time for something senseless such as this. She walks away like nothing happened, slaying her exit. Deep inside she's overwhelmed but she's an actress. 

"Let's stick to that." Actress. She will mask her emotions. Cinthye grabbed a handkerchief from her hidden pocket, she's wearing a shirt and jeans just to blend in. She whipped her face clean. Looking at the comfort room mirror, pondering about the person in front of her. Herself. "Don't give up." She tells herself and put some makeup on concealing every ounce of identity the battered daughter—Cinthye. 

Right at this moment she will be the Cinthye Cator who has career, fame and everything she wants. She will use the connections she has if she has to. She has to be smart. Fishing out her keys from her pocket. About to open her car door. 

Her eyes landed on her window, upon seeing men in black suit behind her. His attempt to drugged her with a handkerchief fails miserably. Cinthye kicked him straight in the face,almost hitting him. He was fast. He dodge in a blink of an eye. 

"Fck!" Cinthye cursed, backing away with a leap. Wrong move! 

The other man got a hold of her arm pulling her, dragging to the black van. Many of them in there. The van smelled funny...drug robbing her consciousness. This is dangerous! Her system yelled at her. She tried to get hold of herself, pinching her leg secretly to keep herself awake. 

"Don't fight it, little actress. " A warm caress of huge palm on her cheeks. "I will cut the limbs of that imbecile." A familiar baritone voice murmured near her ear. 

She reached his hand. 

"No, don't. He's still my father." Cinthye whispered quietly almost fading into the noisy background. She tried to open her eyes but she couldn't.