The King's Mate

“T-Tamara,” a frantic shook in her arms and a trembling voice from her mother woke her up.

“Mom,” she sleepily called her while she was still in her dream state and getting up from her comfy bed.

She focused her eyes while trying to look at the clock placed on her bedside table. It said that it was almost midnight.

Why would her mother visit her at this hour? Her eighteenth birthday was last two days ago. Would she receive another birthday present?

Her heart beat fast and smiled sweetly due to her excitement — however, her mother’s face said otherwise, which wiped up her joyous smile for a moment.

“Get up, Tamara. Y-you need to get away.”

Her mother was quivering, and that made her wake to her full senses, making her heartbeat speedily — now because of worry.

Is this some kind of a joke or a prank?

But her mother wasn’t a fan of any kind of prank, especially not like this. She was always tenderly strict towards her. Her forehead creased as she saw her bothered face looking at the locked door to her room.

“What is happening, Mom?” she asked as she was trying to be calm, though her senses were in a panic mode now.

Her mother looked at her with watering eyes that made her bump with abrupt edginess and discomfort.

What is happening?

“Honey, y-you n-need to go. Remember the forest that I told you to go to in case of emergency? Someone will pick you up there. Now, off you go, my child. I-I love you. Your dad and I love you s-so much.” Her voice cracked as her fresh tears flowed down from her cheeks.

Tamara hugged her mom tightly, never wanting to hear those words as if it was the last time they would see each other. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears as she tried to comfort her mother and her heartbroken self.

“W-what is happening, Mom? Where is Dad?” she repeatedly asked. Her lips were quivering and her voice hoarse from containing her mixed emotions.

Her mother broke their embrace and locked her face with her cold hands. They were so cold that she wanted to close her eyes and give her warmth — however, she was quietly curious about her abrupt actions — it intensified her anxiety.

“There’s no room for questions now, Tamara. You need to go. You know there’s an exit in your closet, right? Go there. Faster, please,” her mother grabbed her hand, and she was immediately out of her bed.

Her mom quickly assisted her in front of her massive closet and opened it widely.

A sudden bang and crashing of glass broke the lull silence inside their house, making both of their eyes widened in shock.

Tamara heard a loud growl and gasping, mixing through the air that reached her ears.

She could feel her mother’s trembling hands.

“M-Mom, w-what is happening? I can’t leave you h-here. How about you and D-Dad?” She nervously asked for the nth time while her gaze moved towards the locked door.

She was more worried and horrified now. Her mother cleared the lump in her throat, and she could feel her restlessness. Her dark brown eyes filled with fear and sadness as they looked at her. She became more anxious as the seconds passed. She was close to hyperventilating now, but she wanted to portray her strong façade.

“Tamara. Please, just get out of the house! It is more important that you’re safe. And please don’t ever look back,” her mother pleaded and pushed her gently inside her closet.

It is where her parents built an emergency exit down to their basement and a little pathway that leads to the forest.

She was using this way whenever she wanted to escape from her parents — now to escape someone she doesn’t even know.

She could feel her mom’s shuddering cold hands holding her arms. Her mother looked at the locked door of her room and then back at her. They heard a loud thud and a snarl.

“But M-Mom—”

“Enough! Save yourself! Promise me, don’t look back. You need to run! Please.” Her voice became low and pleading.

She saw how determined and hopeless her mom was — determined to get her out of the house and hopeless on something.

“P-please… Promise me, huh?” She begged desperately.

She slowly nodded her head as she stifled her unshed tears.

“P-promise…” Tamara breathily answered.

Her mother gave her a warm and loving smile and kissed her forehead before pushing her down the exit door.

It was a slide way down to the basement. Tamara’s tears flowed upon her cheeks. She didn’t know what was happening, and she was frighteningly shocked.

She finally felt the soft cushion and it made her realize that she was already on the basement floor. Her legs were wobbling — she could hear the tinny noise coming from the upper part of their house where her room was.

She tried to stand up while her eyes were blurred by her tears. She accidentally nudged the antique ceramic vase standing near her. It created a loud crash sound followed by a loud and eerie growl.

Her spine shivered as she heard that menacing growl.

She pulled herself together, trying to find the pathway that would lead her to the forest. Her heart was pounding tough and fast, making her chest ache a bit. She heard debauched and loud steps getting nearer to where she was.

Finally, she pulled the cover of the pathway to open it. It was just a small tunnel-like and she needed to crawl in it. It was just as big as her size so it made it difficult for her to move. She did a nonstop crawl, never wanting any chance for the intruder to catch her.

She was doing her best to crawl as fast as she could — no matter how difficult it was for her. She could hear scratching sounds echoing in the tunnel that made her flinch. She ignored the foul smell, even her bruised knees and elbows caused by the concrete pave way.

She heard a loud snarl followed by gasping and panting, then a weakened cry.

She closed her eyes firmly as the tears flowed freely.

After minutes of nonstop crawling, she finally reached the end of the tunnel.

She tried to push the cover for it to open and she stopped a bit to gasp for air. She just realized that she’s holding her breath for a moment already.

She tried to push it again, but it just wouldn’t budge. Her eyes started to water once again. Her nose was now red and icky from all her crying.

She felt hopeless. She felt weak. She felt tired.

Then, she heard a cracking sound coming from the other side of the tunnel.

“N-no,” she silently whispered.

She was trembling and couldn’t even move an inch — because of fear.

She was about to crawl back to the house when the cover burst wide open.

A man who looked like in his mid-fifties met her eyes.

“Good thing, you’re already here, Tamara. I’m Benson,” his voice was low but signified authority.

His eyes were as dark as the night. He had little freckles visible on his forehead and some were on the upper part of his cheeks. His hair was grayish and neatly done.

He offered his firm hand to her for her to grab on to, but she didn’t even bother to accept nor look at it.

The man was muscular and quite tall. His face was laced with no emotion — at all. It was plain and blank — that made her inaudibly cry out because of unsolicited fear.

She just looked at him, still confused and shaken from everything that was happening.

“Come on, Tamara. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to fetch you,” he said. His tone never faltered — it was still low and authoritative all throughout.

She couldn’t fathom whether he’s telling the truth or not. Besides, her parents told her not to trust anyone easily. But she remembered that her mother had told her that someone was waiting for her in the forest.

She was hesitatingly reaching for his waiting hand, and he pulled her. His muscular biceps contracted as he carried her full heavy weight. He didn’t care though — based on him having no reaction — as if she was just as light as a feather.

Her legs swayed as it stepped to the ground, making her lean on the tiny tunnel behind her to find strength and support. She clenched her fist as she tried to compose herself, taking a deep breath and embracing the cold wind that passed through her delicate skin.

She wasn’t trusting this man — or anyone. For the meantime, she wanted to get away from whoever trespassed on their house and find out what was happening. For this man, well, she’ll just cross the bridge when she gets there.

It was past midnight, and the new moon wasn’t helping her see the surroundings so much as the flickering lamp post standing near them.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and her tears flowed endlessly. Her lips quivered as she tried to control her sobs that mixed with the low growling sounds and the owl hooting that echoed the entire forest.

“Who are you?” Her voice was gruff as she asked him.

“I’m Benson,” he answered, just repeating his name and nothing more.

Tamara’s palm flew to her forehead, trying to stifle her mixed emotions.

“What I mean is why are you here? Why won’t you help my parents? Why did you know me?” She hysterically asked.

Her voice cracked as her trembling hands motioned to their house which was covered with many lofty trees and couldn’t see where they were standing.

“We need to go,” Benson told her and turned around. He started walking to the depths of the woods ignoring her pressing questions.

“H-how about my parents?” Tamara eagerly asked as she languidly followed the man as if she had any other choice.

“They were dead,” he informed her without any sign of remorse — or any other emotion at that. He just said it as plainly as if it was just a common thing during a conversation.

While her heart sank to her stomach and her heartbeat stopped for a second before its beats doubled. It was a bomb to her ears, making her deaf for a matter of seconds. It weakened her knees and she almost fell to the ground, if not to the trunk of the tree that supported her weight.

“W-what?” She unbelievingly asked in a low voice.

She would not believe what he just said — or maybe she’s hoping that she heard him wrong.

He stopped walking and heaved a deep sigh, as if he’s extending his patience to her, still not facing her.

“Winston and Ameia, they were dead,” he said casually.

As simple as that.

He mentioned her parents’ names. He knew them.

“H-how did you know?” She hopelessly inquired, still trying to collect herself for the hasty news.

Tamara tried to control her emotions by looking for loopholes in his answers. That certain statement that answered her questions lingering inside her mind, making her head spin in madness.

She would not believe this man. Her parents weren’t dead. They…

Tamara gritted her teeth as she tried to compose herself, but the tears pooling her eyes and streaming endlessly down to her pale pink cheeks wasn’t helping her at all.

She could feel her strength was slowly vanishing from thin air as she tried to clench her hands firmly as if it would help her regain it and hold onto it.

She stifled her forlorn sobs, but the sound of it still resonated with the melancholic ambiance in the dark woods.

Benson finally faced her. Despite her blurring vision, she saw how his eyes glistened and turned pitch black — his face was still void and cold. He pressed his lips tightly, and before she knew it — her entire system was shaken for the following words he said.

“Because I can already smell the strong scent of their flesh and blood.” With that, her mind went black, and she instantly fell to the ground.