The Turners

“You will make your old father run after you?” Ophelia heard her father’s voice say behind her. 

It was deceptively low and gentle again.

She hesitated for one second, which when she would think back to this moment months later, she would conclude had been very foolish of her, and her father appeared.

He was standing a few meters from her.

How had he moved so fast? He was an old man, and she had not heard him running. 

She stood frozen, suddenly unable to move from the terror she felt, as she stared into his eyes.

His eyes were like a wild animal’s, ready to pounce.

“Someone lock that door.” Her father called out in a loud voice, and before she could even turn fully, she heard the door close. But when she looked, she saw no one.

So they were here after all. They were here, and the house was this silent, and no one would save her.

“Father,” She screamed as he closed the distance between them, so purple with rage he looked like a demon from hell.

Strength finally went into her legs, and she began to back away. Soon she was running fast, but with the door locked, she could only get so far.

She fell to her knees against a sofa, protecting her head with her arms as a last resort. 

She heard the wind behind her father raising his hand up in the air, but then.. 

Nothing.

The room fell into an odd silence. 

Was that it? Had she been transported so quickly to the afterlife?

“How dare you?” She heard the roar, just as she began to feel the presence of a third person in the room. 

She slowly brought her arms down, and opened her eyes to see the knight in shining armor. The man she had married.

He was staring at her father with such rage that she knew if this was another person he probably would have beat them up bloody. 

“Come to me, Ophelia,” Blaine said, without turning to look at her.

“If you dare,” her father said. 

But she dared. She was not so foolish not to grab her only lifeline. She staggered up to her feet and ran to stand behind her husband.

“Do you know what you are doing, Tucker?” Her father said, squinting up at Blaine, who had almost half his length on him. “This is taboo.” 

He yanked the cord, and Blaine finally let go. The National leader raised it high, and Ophelia crouched as she heard the swish sound midair, and then it landed on Blaine's broad shoulder. 

She looked up to see he did not even flinch.

“Ophelia, come out here now.” The National leader barked.

Ophelia began to rise up, trembling as she did so, but Blaine reached behind, gripped her forearm and pulled her closer to himself protectively.

“That is my daughter.” Her father yelled.

“And that is the last time you will lay your hands on the woman you put under my protection.” Blaine barked like some army officer. His angry voice would have intimidated a bolt of thunder.

Her father flinched, and then he looked up at Blaine in disbelief. “Did you just talk back to me?”

“The only reason I am doing just that is because you are my wife’s father.”

“I am the National leader.” Her father yelled.

“And I can get you impeached before three days are up.” Blaine yelled back. 

Ophelia’s heart raced in her chest, as she stood behind him. The Tuckers had a lot of power in the country. A few private meetings and the country could indeed be welcoming a new National leader before the week was over.

But should he really be flaunting his power in her father’s face like that? Her father could be extremely vicious when challenged. Who knew what he would do to them?

He could have Blaine killed if he had not been so bent on getting the Turners lost shares in Moshon again through this son-in-law.

“Get out of my house before I forget you are the father of my granddaughter.” The National leader suddenly turned his back on them. 

Blaine had already begun to head out, but Ophelia hesitated.

She could not leave her father like this? What if he did something evil to them? Maybe she could go on her knees and beg, and ask Blaine to beg too.

“What are you doing?” Blaine turned to her now. 

She looked into his eyes and did not have the courage to voice her thoughts, or even go through with them. She meekly let him take her arm in his hand, and they walked out to his car.

She sat quietly in the car, away from him, even though she would have loved to be near him, her head on his shoulder.

Or even better, straddling him and riding him to the rhythm of his name on her lips as the car sped fast. Especially after what he just did in there.

“How long?” Blaine’s deep voice said suddenly, startling her out of her erotic daydream.

“What?”

“How long has your father been hitting you, Ophelia?” His voice was stronger now, and she feared he might soon channel all the anger he felt towards her father earlier, to her.

But she could not speak. 

She could not betray her father. He was still that, HER FATHER.

“Your silence shows this is not the first time.” His voice was suddenly calm now, pained. 

She was so tempted to reach out and touch him, hold him. But the number of times she had been rejected lately made her hold back. But she barely did.

“How did I not see it,” he said bitterly. “Those scars you kept blaming on different domestic accidents.” 

He stopped, and their car fell into silence, then he said suddenly, “I cannot let him get away with this.”

“Blaine.” She finally found her voice. 

What was he going to do? Was he actually going to get her father impeached? 

The National leader would not just sit back and do nothing, no matter how important a piece Blaine was to his grand plan.

Fear suddenly squeezed her heart at the thought of her father fatally hurting Blaine.