“It’s been handled.”
“What? That’s it? That’s all I get? No details, like how you met? If she’s going to be my mother-in-law one day? Nothing? Because that woman risked quite a bit for you, Big Daddy P.”
“Stop calling me that. It was annoying when Noah did it, and it’s still annoying now. There is nothing to tell so drop it.”
“Oh . . . that screams a big fat juicy story,” I taunt.
“Drop it, Grant. We are contacts nothing more,” he growls.
“F-i-i-n-n-e-e.” I draw the word out like a whiny child.
“Grant,” he warns.
Chuckling, I blow out a breath and prepare myself for what needs to be said.
“Are you going to keep stalling? Or at some point are you going to actually tell me how my daughter is doing?”
“Stalling sounds like a better plan,” I tell him honestly.
“It’s that bad?” His hurtful tone and softly spoken question sucker punch me right in the heart.
“Yes,” I reply quietly.
The silence stretches between us for an undeterminable period of time. It feels like an eternity as we both sit there musing in our own thoughts over Kylee. His gruff, emotional voice breaks through the dazed trance, bringing me back into the now.
“What’s happened, son?”
Running a hand through my hair, I contemplate the best way to answer this question. How do you tell a father that his daughter is so lost she might not ever come back? That her shattered heart is so broken she may not return to her former self? As a man, how can I find the right way to explain she’s embracing the darkness, becoming the woman he fought so hard to protect her from? Emotion clogs my throat, choking me with its thick essence. Swallowing roughly, I decide to tread carefully, telling him the truth.
“Kylee . . . well, she’s different.” I pause, swallowing back the thick emotion.
“Different how?” he asks quietly.
“She doesn’t laugh or smile as often. I can see the pain in her eyes whenever I look at her. It radiates off of her in waves. She’s become . . .” My words trail off as I think of the darkness my girl has embraced. How easily she flips that emotional switch, turning into . . . well, her mother.
“She’s become what, son?”
“I really don’t know how to say it other than to just come out with it, sir,” I say hesitantly.
“That’s exactly what you should do. No sense sugarcoating it. It’s not gonna change a damn thing.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I open my mouth and let it fly. “Kylee has embraced an inner darkness that, quite honestly, I don’t know if she’ll ever emerge from.” Stopping to catch my breath, a sharp pain shoots through my chest. Rubbing the phantom ache, I continue.
“There are moments where I see the woman she was buried deep in all of the pain and anguish. But the moment you get too close, she extinguishes it like a candle in the wind, flipping an emotional switch and becoming an entirely different person altogether. And, fuck, don’t get me started on that family.”
The line is so silent you can hear a pin drop. “Colonel?” I ask, wondering if he couldn’t take it and hung up.
“I’m here, son. Just processing.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I say, scrubbing a hand down the back of my neck.
“No need to apologize. It’s not anything you did. Hell, if anyone should be sorry it’s me. And I can’t even find it in myself to be sorry because that means she wouldn’t exist. But I will tell you one thing. We won’t let them win. We’ll find a way. She’ll come back to us. You’ll see.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, unwilling to acknowledge the insecure voice edging its way back into my head.
“Listen, son, I’ve got to run something . . .” The Colonel covers the phone as he speaks to someone in a hushed tone. Coming back over the line, he says, “I’m sending you a new number should you need to contact me. You know the drill. Keep me informed and let me know if anything changes.”
“Yes, sir.” The Colonel’s abrupt actions has me on edge, wondering exactly what complications he was referring to earlier. His gruff voice interrupts my musings, bringing my attention back to him.
“And, Alex . . .”
“Yes?” I ask, afraid I’d missed something in my daydreaming session.
“Watch your back. I don’t know who we can and can’t trust out of our little unit at the moment. This runs a lot deeper than I expected. Kiss our girl for me and keep her safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Sir?” I call out, hoping he hasn’t disconnected the call.
“Yeah?”
“Are they okay?”
The Colonel blows out a deep, exhausted breath. “They’re not the same without you, son. It will be better for everyone when this is all over. Just know that I’m looking after them and they are all safe. That will have to suffice for now.”
“T-Thank you, sir.” My voice wavers with emotion as I think of the turmoil I’ve undoubtedly caused my unit.
“Take care, son,” the Colonel responds as he disconnects the call.
I’m not sure how much time passes as I sit motionless, staring out into the dark, the Colonel’s words yo-yoing off of my brain like a bouncy ball. One phrase stands out above them all. It will be better for everyone when this is all over. Shaking myself out of my mental stupor, I spring into action. The Colonel is absolutely right.
It will be better for all of us if this mission comes to an end. Thankfully, I know just the person who can help me end it.
MIGRAINES. THE QUINTESSENTIAL ASSHOLE OF the headache world. Pure. Fucking. Evil. I’m a firm believer migraines were brought about to doom the human race. Something this excruciatingly painful has to be the work of the devil. Each horrendous disturbance zigzags through your nervous system, gradually building until you’re a weak, moody mess.
Momma always said the mind was the devil’s playground. I guess he just likes to play around in mine a little more than others. Blinding pain scorches my temples, sending flashes of light careening through my occipital lobe. Wincing, I shield my eyes from the blazing florescent light. The gentleman in front of me continues to prattle on and on about something I lost interest in ages ago. My eyes wander around the small sitting room until they land on the clock.
Shit. He’s only been here for ten minutes and the sound of his voice already has me on edge. I pause, gripping the arms of my chair tightly as a wave of nausea rolls through my belly. Bile churns violently, rising into my throat, forcing me to take shallow breaths through my nose. Swallowing, I bite back the acrid taste of the horrid acid. Gathering all of the strength I can muster, I focus my attention on the annoying little man oblivious to my plight.
“This is all very . . . interesting,” I start, waving a hand in his direction. His beady little eyes widen, taking in my every word.
“But we’re going to have to do this another time.” I signal my guard, U-Jin, standing silently in the corner of the room. Walking over with silent grace, his watchful eyes take in my appearance. Halting in front of me, he stands, silently waiting for his direction.
Motioning to the small man, my voice is strained when I say, “Would you please show . . .” An audible pause fills the room as I struggle to remember the annoying man’s name. Racking my brain for clues and finding nothing, I shrug it off, continuing as if nothing happened.
“Please show this gentleman to the door. We can resume this at a later date.”
Nodding at U-Jin, I wave dismissively at the annoying little man. He sputters but goes without another word. Drawing in a shaky breath, I close my eyes as searing pain rips through the top of my skull. A wave of vertigo crashes down on me, tilting and spinning the room, making me feel as if I were on a tilt-a-whirl even with my eyes tightly squeezed shut. The faint sound of footsteps reaches my ears, echoing loudly on the tile. Blanching, I breathe through clenched teeth, peeling my eyes open one at a time to meet U-Jin’s
worried gaze.
“Are you all right, Mamasan?” His voice is laden with concern.
“I’ll be fine. I just have a headache.”
“Are you sure? That looks like more than just a headache.” Kneeling beside me, he continues his examination.
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle. A little migraine won’t stop me.”
Gripping the arms of the chair, I slowly come to a stand. My stomach sloshes as if I’d just consumed an entire vat of cherry soda. Breathing steadily through my nose, I take hesitant steps toward the door. Reaching it, I turn, meeting U-Jin’s cautious gaze.
“Can you keep all of the guards toward the front of the house? The noise will only make it worse. I just need to lie down for a few hours and I will be fine.”
He frowns, scowling as he scrutinizes my appearance. After a tense moment, he nods and inquires, “Do you need anything?”
I give my head a shake and immediately regret it.
Closing my eyes, I reply, “No. I just need to rest for a bit. Thank you.”
“Guards are stationed around the perimeter of the property as usual. They will be at the front of the house, and I will be by to check on you periodically. I do not agree with leaving you alone but will do as you wish only if I can come and check on you.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, I look into his cautious eyes. Dammit, Kylee, the man is only doing a job, one Alex probably threatened to kill him for if not done properly. My voice is weak and barely audible to my own ears when I answer, “Okay.”
“Do you need help to your room?” he asks with that same concerned look in his eye.
“No. I’ll manage. Thank you.”
With slow, controlled movements, I turn, making my way out of the room and toward the back of the house. The inferno raging inside of my head worsens with every step. My stomach hardens, churning as another agonizing wave of nausea rushes into my throat. Swallowing thickly, I place a hand on the wall to keep from crumpling to the floor as my knees begin to weaken in my dizzying state.
“Ugh,” I moan, wrapping one arm around my middle.
Shuffling forward, I grimace in pain, squinting into the sunlit hallway. Having reached my agonizing threshold, I stumble into the first available room. Closing the door behind me, I expel a sigh of relief the moment I’m plunged into absolute darkness. Gasping, I jerk back in surprise, my head hitting the door with a whack as I peer at the room I wandered into.
“Ahhh.” Groaning, I rub the spot on the back of my head.
Moving away from the door, I sluggishly stumble into the bathroom, desperate for some form of relief. Tottering from side to side, I feel along the wall until I find the light switch and flip it on. Immediately, I rush forward, throwing open doors and rummaging through her things until I find what I need.
“Oh thank God,” I mutter, tearing the top off of the container and swallowing the medicine like my life depends on it.
Setting the bottle on the counter, I stumble out of the bathroom like a woman who’s had too much to drink, never bothering to turn off the light. Pausing in the doorway, I glance from the bed to the sofa in her small lounge. Nope, not going there. I think to myself heading toward the lounge. Not even if my life depended on it. Cautiously walking into the small room, I frown, squinting at the light reflecting in the corner.
Multicolored shadows in different shapes and sizes dance along the wall, creating a rainbow effect. My curiosity gets the better of me, and despite my better judgment, I find myself wandering toward the alluring light.
“What do we have here?” I mumble, reaching down into the glistening stack of records.
Gently pulling the first album off the top of the pile, I freeze, my eyes glued to the immaculate dust jacket. A burning sensation tears through my lungs as my airway compresses, strangling me from the inside out. Gasping, I expel a hard breath, all of the air leaving me in one fell swoop. The vinyl in my hand shakes, my fingers trembling uncontrollably as I hold it tenderly. The migraine ravaging my brain becomes a distant memory as I meet the brilliant gaze of the one and only Ella Fitzgerald. My knees give way underneath me, causing me to tumble to the floor.
Clutching Ella to my chest, I land awkwardly on the side of my leg. Bursts of pain explode, sending electrical sparks blasting through my right shin. Pressing a fist to my lips, I inhale, breathing deeply through the pain for a long tense moment until it subsides. Inching forward on my knees, I set Ella aside to hesitantly go through the remaining records. Taking the next record off the pile, I can feel the uncertainty in my expression growing.
What on Earth? Why would she have these? An acute fluttering sensation builds in my core, spreading to every tendon in my body. My mind races, searching for answers to questions I’ll likely never know. The tips of my fingers lovingly caress the vinyl. I don’t understand.
Grimacing, I look at the records spread out before me. They’re all here, every single one of them. Ella, Miles, Frank, Sonny, John, Thelonious . . . all of my dads favorite artists. But, why would she have them? What purpose does it serve? Some of my earliest memories are of dancing around the kitchen to the smooth sounds of Thelonious Monk with my father.
Did she remember that? Did she care? Hot, angry tears prick the back of my eyes. My pulse thunders furiously, roaring angrily in my ears. Enraged, I mentally snap at myself. Why the fuck do you care?
She was nothing to us—a horrible woman who did unspeakable things. Forget about her. She had her chance and she blew it. Move the fuck on, Kylee. Throwing my hands in the air, I jump to my feet. My earlier dizziness comes rushing back with a vengeance.
“Dammit,” I mumble, forcing my lashes closed.
Taking slow, deep breaths, I center myself, breathing through the dizzy spell. The slow creaking sound of a door opening has me jolting my eyes open, and I spin around in a hurry. Nausea and dizziness pounce on me, one right after the other, each one doubling their affect, increasing tenfold. Every muscle and tendon in my body fights, wanting to shut down with the horrible sickness waging its wicked war against me. Powerless, in spite of my resistance, my eyes seal, rigorous pants expelling from my nostrils in a frenzied attempt to regain control. Out of the blue, an unforeseen coldness travels up the nape of my neck, splintering into little tendrils of ice stabbing into heel of my cerebellum. Tearing my eyes open, I freeze, incapable of moving at the sight of the hefty fist barreling toward me.
Spots flash, dancing before my eyes as his massive claw collides with my midsection. Letting out a whimper, I double over. Every bit of air housed inside is driven out with the force of his blow. Snatching a handful of my hair, Sang-Hyun yanks, pulling me into an upright position.
“So you thought I’d just let things go, did you?” he snarls into my ear.
I open my mouth to respond, but the only sound that emerges is the whistling cadence of my lungs as they struggle to suck in air.
“I asked you a question!” he bellows, tugging brutally on my hair.
My eyes tear up, watering at the forcefulness pulling at my scalp. The pain mixing with the headache from earlier makes it nearly unbearable. My thoughts spin, focusing inward as he viciously jerks, pulling my hair hard and fast. Fuck. How the hell am I going to get out of this? Think, Kylee, think.
A sharp, stinging pain rips across my face, forcing my head to the side. Hot sticky fluid coats the inside of my mouth, trickling down the back of my throat. Blood . . . Why is it always blood? A hysterical laugh swells inside, growing larger and larger until I’m unable to contain it a moment longer. Laughing madly, I angle my head what little I can with my limited mobility. Peering into Sang-Hyun’s narrowed gaze, I can’t help but laugh harder.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I force out in my hysterical laughter.
Sang-Hyun’s expression becomes one of fury, pure hatred, and outrage as he releases my hair, shoving me forward with a violent thrust. My body sails through the air toward hard tile, landing with a hard thud on the floor. Before I can even take a brea
th, he’s on me, flipping me over onto my back, pressing the sole of his shoe into my chest.
“Ahhh,” I hiss painfully.
“Is that more to your liking?” he taunts.
“You wish, asshole,” I sneer.
“You never did answer my question,” he says, applying more pressure.
“What makes you think I’m going to answer any of your questions?” I pant, trying to ignore the increasing pain in the upper half of my body.
“I have ways of making you talk.”
The menacing laugh that fills the room is unintentional—a response that comes as naturally as breathing.
“What the fuck are you laughing at, bitch?” he sneers, gnashing his teeth.
“You can’t do anything worse than what has already been done.”
Sang-Hyun stiffens, pressing his foot harder before removing it to lean over me, his putrid breath aimed directly in my face. Breathing through my mouth, I smile, biding my time as he widens his stance, squatting over me.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to see about that won’t we.”
His eyes narrow suspiciously, zoning in on my expanding smile. Seizing the moment, I strike, hitting him with a quick punch to the groin. Groaning, he cups his balls, falling to the side in a heap on the floor. Leaping to my feet, I take off in a mad dash toward the door. The loud thrashing of my heart is the only sound I can hear as I stumble through the darkened room. My raspy breaths turn into a scream as Sang-Hyun tackles me from behind, propelling us both toward the floor.
Our bodies roll, tangling together as we fight for dominance. Kneeing me in the side, he pins me to the floor, taking hold of my throat with a sneer.
“Now I’ve got you.”
Applying pressure, he squeezes, forcing what little air I had left from my lungs. Unwilling to go down without a fight, I thrash, bucking against him with all my might. Sang-Hyun’s grip becomes impossibly tighter, causing my vision to blur, blackness seeping into the edges. A burning sensation ignites in my lungs, increasing with every unfulfilled breath. Tears sting my eyes as I glower at the man holding me down. Heat flushes through my body, anger guiding me as I ball my hands into fists and let loose.
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