GALSYR

My Hero

     A lone figure looked down at the girl, hatred seething within.

     She made his life a living hell. Placing him in a dysfunctional family.

     You'll never amount to anything?  Was all he ever heard. I'll show you...

     Fathers have a lot to answer for. They teach you how to become them; then they don't like what they see. Belittling every achievement, every gesture. His only crime: wanting approval. Love.

     He'll have to take notice now. Bringing SSFC to its knees. Begging for mercy.

     He'll have to love me when he sees how powerful I have become.

     And...she is going to make that all possible. She owes me that.

                                                                     *****

     Arraya became aware of loud music as she slowly gained consciousness, the classical rhythm throbbing in time with the pounding in her head.

     With her eyes still closed, hands pressed to her temples, she welcomed the silence as the music stopped.

     "It's about time you woke up. How do you feel?"

     She could feel his breath on her face, the scent of male cologne overpowering.

     "Like a platoon of soldiers are marching inside my brain." Was that her voice? It sounded so weak and raspy.

     Tentatively, Arraya opened her eyes. Her head screamed, as the bright light above forced her to close them immediately.

     Moments later, the lights switched off.

     "Is that better?" His voice sounded smooth, polished, and far away.

     "Thanks." The glare was bearable this time.

     She was lying on her back, nestled in a red, dusty velour curtain, which had partially fallen from its high-batten hangers. Turning her head to the left, she could just make out an orchestra pit and several rows of old, theatre chairs before darkness descended the room.

     This was definitely not her apartment.

     Moving slowly, allowing her light-headedness to pass, she sat up against the nearby wall, just behind the curtain. All she could remember was hitting her head on the desk. Her mind felt hazy, her thoughts incoherent.

     Looking down, she noticed she still wore her warm, green, flannelette pyjamas and velour slippers.

     "Where am I?"

     Looking around, she could tell she was in some abandoned theatre. And a very grand one, in its day, going by the décor: the elaborate chandeliers, huge stage and ornate ceiling domes. How anybody could have let this magnificent place to ruin, was beyond her.

     "The Truson Theatre." The voice drifted from off stage.

     Arraya slowly got to her feet, her head still aching. Holding onto the wall, she took in her surroundings in more detail.

     "How did I get here?"

     "I didn't bring you here for idle chit-chat. I want answers." Heavy Footsteps wandered her way.

     Answers? To What?

     "Who are you?" She demanded

     "Don't play games with me, you know who I am."