 
Next Of Kin

Blood Is Thicker Than Water

By

Aray Brown

**Copyright ©2015 by Aray Brown. All rights reserved. SmashWords Edition**
**_All rights reserved_**

**_© Aray Brown 2015_**

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrievable system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic and mechanical now known or hereinafter invented without written permission from Aray S Brown.

This novel is a work of fiction, and except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Contact the author:

_www.twitter.com/araybrown_

_www.google.com/+AraySBrownAuthor_

_aray37@icloud.com_
_I dedicate this book to Clarence E Watkins,  
the best grandfather in the world.  
The memories I had with you I will cherish forever.  
Thank you for being a constant father figure in my life._
**_Acknowledgements_**

First and foremost I want to give all glory to God for giving me this amazing gift and the opportunity to share it with the world. Secondly, I thank my family and friends for always showing support and my beta readers for helping me shape my book into what it is today. Your tireless efforts have not gone unnoticed. To my favorite niece who aided me in one of the pivotal scenes, this is your book too.

In closing, I thank All Authors Graphic Design for creating my book cover.
Table of Contents

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

32.

33.

34.

35.

36.

# 1.

December 10, 2016

The weather report proclaimed this as one of the coldest days of the season. A gush of wind whistled in the air, mimicking a daunting tune as armadas of leaves blew in the wind—disclosing the unseen—a creepy old abandoned warehouse that hadn't been touched in years. It had born witness to enough murders to last a lifetime. The floors were rotted and the windows were boarded up. It had fallen apart and was on the verge of being revamped into a railroad station. Several scraps, aluminum siding and graffiti were all that adorned it.

A thunderous noise filled the soulless hovel that had surrounded them.

Medina Price watched Jordyss's eyes roll back in her head, taking in a final breath, studying her as if she was a science experiment. What happened next would remain a mystery for years to come. Even to her. It started with a bang, and ended with her brains splattered all over the floor.

Price turned her gaze to the man whose untimely death was anything but an accident, smiled at the thought.

The man's name wasn't important but the information he had was. Price made the man suffer just like he made them, taking great pleasure, all while holding nothing back—anger coursing through her veins— driving her to the absolute edge. Whoever the man was, he knew the answer to the question plaguing Medina her entire life—the question that kept her up most nights.

Price still remembered it like it was yesterday. The blaring of police sirens—the smell of fresh blood on her cold wretched body—the ghastly sound of a .357 Magnum, fired at close range, leaving traces of gunpowder.

Price spent a chunk of her life trying to forget. Been in therapy more times than she could count, but there were things she couldn't block out no matter how desperate. Some things Price was doomed to repeat. _Sometimes the way to let go of the dead is to put someone else in their place._

Price stood over the lifeless body, the killing machine in hand; morbidity took over her face, initiating a metamorphosis. Price's eyes changed—dark, cold and menacing. Her face took a form all its own.

_It was either her or me, and I wasn't ready to die yet. Not again._

A secluded lake near the woods proved to be a place where Price could dispose of the remains, weighing it down with cement blocks, dumping it in with the toxins of the reservoir. The cadaver descended deeper and deeper. She tossed a single black rose. It was her way of mourning the damned. Price had more respect for the dead than the living. Finding fascination with tortured souls and rotting skeletons, she had come to revere them. She thought it was beautifully poetic how each one of them died. Price carved a K in each one of the victims, sending a message to anyone who was fortunate enough to discover them. It would be a message no one will forget. A message that would make the people of this town remember.

The people she's killed. The bodies she's buried. The old Medina would be ashamed. But the new her was dawning. Holding someone's life in the palm of her hands, Price never felt more powerful, thus believing that everyone was guilty until declared innocent. Little by little, Price felt herself slipping away, becoming someone else. Someone she'd never been before; Dark, fearless even. Cold and emotionless.

Fifteen minutes later she stood in the bathroom of the studio apartment in Linden Heights. It wasn't much to look at but it had personality. She didn't have much furniture, just a mattress and a folding table, but she didn't need much. It was home, at least for now. Price eyed her reflection, wearing a bullet wound like it was a badge of honor, snarling at the notion that Jordyss got one last shot before her demise. It triggered something; scenes from her sordid past controlled her train of thought, playing like a broken record in her head.

The yellow police tape cornering the room off—the flash of the camera as the photographer captured a woman's murdered body—the thick trail of black blood leading up to it—a man's devilish grin.

In a fit of rage, Price rammed her fist through the glass, noticed the blood dripping from her knuckles onto the Parquet floor, looking at it as if it was insignificant. Then peeked directly into the shattered fragments, spied on something she didn't want to see, or someone.

_I don't know who I am anymore. Can't remember the last time I saw her alive. I've got enough blood on my hands to start a fucking blood bank. I don't know what happens. Half the time it's a complete blur. It's getting harder to tell me apart from the familiars. The closer I get to finishing this, the further I get from the person I used to be. The further I get from what's real._

*** * * ***

Price walked into the mortuary, emotionally unaware of the troubles that befell, biting her lower lip to keep from grinning. The grief stricken detective led the way, the robust sound of his shoes setting the tone with every step. Jordyss's father would arrive shortly.

"Thanks for coming. She put you as her contact in case of emergency. It wasn't easy to track you down." The detective said, fishing for an explanation.

"Apparently it was." Price stated, mumbling under her breath, showing disdain for something that was less than trivial. It was no mystery that she didn't want to be found.

"Before we go in I must warn you, the chemicals from the pond had some pretty bad effects. When my men got there, some of the body parts were dissolved." He halted, blocking the passageway.

"This is what was left." He finished, hesitantly opening the door.

They entered the room. It was cold and unsettling, enough to make anyone's skin crawl. Price secretly relished the odor of formaldehyde filling the air, reveling in the horror as the mortician unveiled the grotesque figure that once was beautiful. She eyed it blankly, showing no signs of remorse.

"Is this her?" The detective inquired.

"I'm sure if you fix her up it'll look like her, if that's what you're driving at. Are we done here? This place gives me the creeps." Price lied, smirking behind his back.

The detective escorted Price out of the morgue, slipping her a card in the hopes she would call him if ever in need of a shoulder. Truth be told he wasn't just another cop, a friend of the family more or less, but that was all in the past and now she reduced the man to a mere acquaintance. After the infamous death of her mother, nothing awaited Price but darkness and isolation, thus cutting anyone who was closet off at the knees and suffering in silence.

"Dina!" the chief cried out, anxiously running up, trying to place her. She was a seasoned meddlesome officer whose career was on the brink of retirement, menopause settling in, and the mother of her former comrade.

"How do you know my name?"

"It's on the form."

"Oh."

"Why don't you stay? I'm sure your friends would like to see you."

"I don't have any and I don't plan on sticking around."

"You must be pretty upset, huh?"

"People die all the time. Why should I get upset over something that happens naturally?" Price replied—giving the chief a piercing stare, she hopped in the car and put in it drive. Price saw her in the rearview mirror as she roared away; the screeching of the wheels woke her up from some deep deliberation.

_How strange. Should I know her? Is there something I'm missing?_

The chief shook her head in disbelief, shrugging it off like normal. Pretty soon it wouldn't be her problem anymore.

Price pulled up to the penitentiary, marveling at its dark shabby presence. She grew up hating these places, vowing not to be caught dead in here, visiting or otherwise. No matter how much Price wanted to turn back, this was unavoidable. A man was unjustifiably sentenced to life in prison and needless to say she felt partly responsible.

She rifled through the purse in search of her favorite brand of cigarettes. Price always smoked Newport.

Price stumbled upon a vintage wedding photograph of her parents, looking at it fondly, admiring the baby bump. Way before this ever happened. Way before this _could_ ever happen. Who would have thought it would turn out this way? This was indeed a simpler time when things were less chaotic.

# 2.

March 20, 1993

Medina's grandparents hadn't approved of the arrangement and saw Alex as a no account bum who was unworthy. Marrying someone below their class was unheard of by the socialites they ran with. Zoe was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and Alex was a working stiff. They had nothing in common but each other.

Alexander Price stood in front of the mirror, decked out in a Ralph Lauren tux, nervously tying his tie, practiced saying his I Do's, taking breaths in-between. What some described as a decent guy, others called him a mess. He was a little of both. Maybe more of a mess than anyone ever realized.

"I can do this." Alex adjusted his cummerbund. His thoughts had begun to consume him. Thoughts about marriage and being a father. He worried he would put his kids through the same hell he endured at the hands of his father.

"I can do this."

Alex was a lieutenant who got demoted to beat cop on a bribery charge—two hundred dollar bribe as part of a corruption sting. He accepted a plea bargain; twenty hours of community service.

He always knew he was out of her league. They ran in completely different circles. Zoe had come from old money while he worked for everything he got.

The door swung open, disrupting his ritual—a dark form approached, greeted him smugly. This was something the man was all too familiar with.

"Was I this bad?" The man said.

"You were worse." Alex replied, wiping beads of sweat off his brow.

"I never thought I would live to see this. Is this for real or am I being punked?" He replied.

"If you are then this is one bad joke. Things change. It happens to the best of us." Alex added.

"You sure you want to do this?" He inquired.

"Would I be here if I wasn't?"

"So, ready to walk The Green Mile?" He joked, patted him on the back.

"Give me a minute." Alex said.

"Alright, just don't keep The Warden waiting."

Analyzing himself in the mirror, Alex saw everything clearly for the first time and didn't like what he saw. He then grabbed a secret stash of cocaine from the left breast pocket and took four hits—just to take the edge off—or so he thought.

Alex had been in rehab but couldn't stay clean. No one knew he had fallen off the wagon. Even made promises he would only use it when needed, that he wouldn't lose control again, but it had a hold on him that just wouldn't let go. The same kind of hold whiskey had on his father.

Alex came from a broken home. His mother was a housewife; his father devoted his entire life to The Force. After work he would spend nights at a nearby bar, looking for answers at the bottom of a glass, taking his frustrations out on them. A few fist fights, several bruises, broken ribs.

There was one night in particular that shook him to core. It haunted him to this day.

Everyone has their own demons to face. And that was the beginning of many to come.

Alex ogled the wristwatch, loosened his tie, flashed a quick smile and headed out of the room towards the chapel.

The church pews were adorned with her favorite flower. Lavender tea roses. With a smidgen of baby's breath... bridesmaids in... ice blue dresses... groomsmen in... white tuxedos... The bride wore a Taffeta V –neck princess shaped wedding gown. The color: Champagne.

Zoe never looked more beautiful. She wasn't hiding anything, from anyone. She wasn't daddy's little pubescent girl anymore. It was the wedding to end all weddings. Her parents spared no expense when it came to their only child. It was a full house.

An elated Zoe stared at her pregnant belly, ran hands over it, envisioning the fetuses growing inside her. She sensed them kick for the first time, pondered if the right decision was made on whether to keep her secret hidden or broadcast it in plain view. Before Alex, there was Darius, a man her parents was in favor of and enthused to call son. Unfortunately nothing else was appealing but his good looks and charm. Despite his infidelities, he became everything she despised.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Raising the veil, Alex scoped her face, ended it with a sweet, gentle kiss. Zoe beamed from ear to ear, rubbing the lipstick off his lips.

She married the man she loved, and that love conceived two children she was more than ready for, which would come to be a surprise for the groom.

Without warning, Zoe received a sharp pain in the pit of her stomach to such a degree that it increased and became more constant, detecting the splotch of blood on the bottom of the dress. Then the blood on the floor. She didn't want to admit it but she was frantic, tried to keep her wits about her in the act of the bridal party scurrying to a nearby hospital, whereas twenty of her closet family and friends soon followed.

Subsequent to the orderlies rushing her to the O.R., they sat in the waiting room ten minutes later, for two hours, aimed to keep busy so they wouldn't think about the one thing that had been on their minds since they got there.

Alex hysterically paced up and down the hall, reasoned with himself for not being with her. He was on his third cup of coffee.

"I don't understand why they haven't told us anything yet?!"Alex asked, frustrated with himself, with the doctors, even with her. They sat their sights on him, pleading him to calm down.

"I'm going to the cafeteria. Does anybody want anything?" He paused.

"And silence, great. Try not to talk about me too bad when I'm gone." Alex concluded.

Alex walked down the corridor, peering through the window of the operating room, viewed the blood—there was so much blood that tears streamed down his face. Memories of her entered his mind. A flood of emotions came running to him all at once. He barged in the presumably locked door, demanding to know the prognosis. Coffee and cigarettes were all that fueled him.

"Please tell me what's happening to her." Alex begged.

"You shouldn't be in here." The surgeon enforced.

"Is she going to be okay?" Alex inquired.

"Get him out of here!" Another surgeon yelled. The nurse accompanied him outside.

"I need to know what's going on with my wife!" Alex said, enraged.

"We're doing everything we can for her. Your wife is in good hands." The nurse said, reassuringly as she went back inside and locked the door.

Feeling defeated, Alex sauntered into the men's room and made sure the stalls were empty, took in his image and shoved half a gram of cocaine up his nose. He didn't want to feel like this anymore, as a matter of fact he wanted to feel numb. _She can't die! She can't leave me!_ He thought.

Alex indulged in one last look and saw an older disheveled version of himself. Alex started to hear things—the sound of his father's voice echoing in his mind—at different periods of his life. _Look at you; you're a fucking disgrace to the uniform. Like father like son. You're a fucking bum. She knows it, I know it and your mother knows it. Like father like son_ .

"I'm not your son!" He exclaimed, smashed the polished silver with the palm of his hands, and then wiped the blood from his left nostril.

# 3.

Alex never thought of him in that way. Frank was more like a stepfather than a real father. He tried so hard to be a better man than him. However, he wound up making the same mistakes. Alex believed he had a handle on things, but he wasn't the one pulling the strings anymore. It was a crutch for many years to cushion the blow of what ailed him—the haunted memories of his past. Alex never wanted to confirm it but he assumed the form of his old man.

"How is she doc?" Alex jumped out his seat.

"You must be Alex." Darius sized him up.

"Who the hell are you?" Alex inquired.

"I'm you. Only better looking and successful. I guess that's why she didn't marry me and settled for you. Girly must be slumming." Darius paused, cleared his throat.

"Zoe's lost a lot of blood. We hooked her up to a blood bag to compensate for it. She's stabilized."

"What about the baby?" Alex asked.

"Surprise, you have two healthy girls, fraternal twins actually. Hmm I thought she couldn't have any more children. I mean, after those two miscarriages." Darius retorted. With a furrowed brow, Alex contended to play off his confusion.

"What, she didn't tell you?" Darius leered at him, smugly as he walked away, leaving him alone with his theory.

Alex figured they were even. There were past memories, experiences that he wouldn't even think about sharing with her. Things he wanted to forget. Things he was ashamed of. All tied to the source of his addiction. He thought about seeing a shrink but never made it to the first session. Alex had kept his past hidden for so long, he wanted it stay buried.

Alex stood in the doorway, watched her sleep, scanned the tube sticking out of her arm, and observed her face like he knew every winkle and little imperfection intimately. Alex smirked, wholeheartedly while rapping his knuckles against the door.

"Hey." Alex greeted.

"Hi." Zoe said, refocusing her eyes

"How do you feel?"

"How do you think I feel?"

Alex planted a kiss on her forehead, looked around. The room was overflowing with flowers from well-wishers.

"Looks like a funeral in here." He sat a potted plant with the others, hauled a chair at the bedside, and then held her hand.

"You just missed your father." Zoe said.

"It was on purpose." Alex said.

"Are you ready to see your babies?" An impatient nurse wheeled them in. Giving them the once-over, searching their faces for any similarities that would prove they were his but there were none. The newborns were almost the spitting image of Zoe. The twins had black hair, brown skin, and same nose, minus the freckles. Alex cradled the younger one in arms like he could've held her forever —couldn't take his eyes off of her—never expected loving anyone more. From then on she became his favorite.

"Thought of any baby names yet?" The nurse interrupted.

Zoe branded the oldest one Isabel. Alex gave it more consideration, choosing the perfect name that would fit the little one like a glove. He named her Medina, after his deceased mother; therefore his psyche began to shift back to her. He thought about her often.

She was murdered ten years ago. The crime scene had all the makings of a robbery that went awry. Even though he couldn't prove it, he always suspected Frank. Alex blamed him for her death, for their sham of a marriage, for his addiction, for how his life turned out. Their relationship was strained, to say the least.

It had been precisely seven months since Zoe was released from the hospital. Afterwards she went back to The Force. The one accomplishment in her life was being a cop. Unlike most girls from her senior class who dreamt of being fashion models, she dreamt of being Christy Love. Yet there was more to it than that. She wanted to make a difference, wanted to make something out of herself without her parent's influence. Inducting in the academy right out of college, endured four grueling years, she joined the ninth precinct. She was the only female officer and felt like a small fish in a shark-infested pond. Most of the fellas gave her a hard time on account of who her parents where, hence giving her something to prove, not only to them but to herself—to her parents.

"Welcome back." Alex greeted her, laced up his shoes.

They had been separated for awhile now due to her recent discovery. She filed for legal separation after months of his broken promises, couldn't watch him self-destruct anymore, and didn't want to subject the kids to that lifestyle.

"Thanks. Good to be back." She replied, nonchalantly. Zoe didn't look at him the same way. The coke changed him into a different person. She gave him an ultimatum and much to her surprise, he chose the latter.

This was Alex's fifth time in treatment and he was buoyant that it would be his last. He missed everything about her. He took it all in from her infectious laughter, intoxicating scent to her supple skin.

"I was thinking I could take the kids off your hands for a few days. I've been clean for two weeks. They need a father."

"Yeah they do. What they don't need is a cokehead" She said, sternly, slammed the locker and walked away.

The last time he saw the twins was when they were still together. He felt like he was missing everything. Their first steps, first birthdays, first day of school.

He felt like a part of him was missing, wondered if she ever told the kids about him, or just fabricated how they came to be.

Alex quickly resorted to his sixty dollar a day habit. This was a current pattern. It started when his mother was killed. This time he took more than his regular dose. He wanted to block out every unpleasant memory he'd ever had, all his regrets. The stuff he couldn't change—his life with her. Alex knew she would never come back to him. He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the euphoria—that grew to be his greatest escape—also his greatest downfall.

An exhausted Zoe entered a dark house, longing for a nice warm bath. She poked around for the switch, and then heeded a distinctive voice that made her hair stand on end.

"You're getting colder. You're ice cold."

Zoe uncovered the light switch, illuminating the room, perceived Alex in the chair with a .357 Magnum in his hand, clasping the little one in his arms. His hostile glim was enough to petrify her, furthermore chilling her to the bone. For the first time she was afraid of him. Bloodshot eyes—pupils the size of olives. His alter ego had emerged, taking its rightful place. It was calling all the shots, leaving Alex to deal with the consequences.

"Hi honey; I'm home."

"WH-what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in rehab?"

"Treatment's over. I'm cured."

Alex cocked his gun as she moved closer to Medina.

"Uh-uh, she stays here. We're having a father and daughter moment. You wanted us to bond remember?

"Please don't do anything stupid. Give me the baby."

"That's all you care about isn't it? I'M STILL YOUR HUSBAND! AND YOU TREAT ME LIKE SOME DIRT STUCK TO YOUR SHOE!"

Zoe struggled to calm him down to no avail. Before long, Isabel's angelic eyes opened, led by her incessant wailing that seemed to permeate the room. Alex scrutinized her during the time she went to comfort Isabel. Against him, Zoe was defenseless. Alex had gone absolutely mad and was in complete control of her fate. She pinched herself like it was a dream impossible to wake up from, came to find her worst fear realized.

"Bring her in."

"Leave her out of it."

"Bring her in." Alex growled.

Nervously sitting her down in the playpen, she wondered what would be next. If Zoe managed to get by unscathed, she would fire the nanny for bringing this poor excuse of a human being to her doorstep.

"Break open the wine bottle. It's time to celebrate."

"What?"

"Now we can be together."

"Are you crazy?"

"Dina, want to play a game?" Alex asked, emptying his bullets, all but one, like a spoiled brat he was determined one way or another.

"When I count to three, close your eyes. One...two...three." Alex instructed, aiming it at her temple, his finger dangerously close to the trigger.

"Please, don't." Zoe sobbed.

"I'm doing this for us."

Alex wanted to see how far and how hard he could push. With every misfire, she was more and more frantic.

"Tell me you love me. Tell me you love me. This is your last chance."

"I love you."

"I don't believe you. You're a bad mother, and a lousy wife." Alex replied, disdain in his voice, then opened fire.

"No!" Zoe shrieked.

The bullet pierced her skin, then her heart. She collapsed in the middle of the floor.

"Get up." Alex nudged her with his foot, continually.

There was no movement.

"What did I do? What did I do? Zo." Alex wept.

The sound of his beating heart and the children's constant bawling invaded his musings. Alex wouldn't be able to live with himself if he killed the woman he loved. He violently stroked his hair, riddled with guilt then fearfully tapped his forehead, had a notion of making a clean getaway. Would he leave her for dead?

Alex gathered the receiver, hands trembling, dialed a number. He had a hankering for a cigarette.

"911 what's your emergency?" The female dispatch answered.

"I want to report a felony." Alex said.

"What's the nature of your call sir?" The female dispatch inquired.

"My wife's been shot. She's not breathing."

"Do you have a positive ID on the attacker? Sir?"

Alex dropped the handset, slumped against the wall, head in hands whilst the dispatcher reiterated the last question. Grabbing the screaming brood, one in each arm, he dried their tears and attempted to soothe them. _I really screwed up this time._ He thought.

# 4.

"Hands behind your head." The officer instructed.

Witnessing their father in cuffs was something they wouldn't forget. They were at that stage where they were too young to know what was going on but old enough to remember.

"We got a heartbeat." The man said.

Alex took a quick peek just as the EMTs moved her to the gurney. Then back to the second-in-command officer who read him the Miranda rights.

"You have the right to remain silent."

"Zo!" Alex shouted.

"Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law."

" Zo!" Alex screamed.

"You have the right to an attorney."

"Zo!" He watched the EMTs wheel her out.

"If you do not have an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

"Zo!"

"Hey! Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" The officer asked, frustrated.

"Yeah I got it."

The officer ushered him to the back of the squad car. Alex loathed himself for what he had done. He never dreamed in a million years that he would shoot his wife or force his kids in the arms of a stranger. How do you deal with the fact that the person you should've shielded your family from was you?

Alex was charged with attempted murder. The minimum sentence was fifteen years in prison....maximum: Life.

All he could concentrate on was her. Everything else seemed irrelevant. The best that he could do was get help. Alex had dug a hole he couldn't get out of. _She deserves to be with someone great. And that's never been me_. He thought.

They booked him and stuck him in a holding cell. The arraignment was scheduled for ten o'clock tomorrow. Alex was ready to face the verdict. He was beside himself. It was so unreal. It felt like a dream. A dream he couldn't escape. Alex had a lot of regrets, this being at the very top of the list. Given the chance to do it all over again and rewrite the wrongs, would he?

"Call the next case." The judge ordered.

"The people vs. Alexander Price." The bailiff announced.

Alex and a young officer walked in the courtroom where he stood in front of the presiding judge, handcuffed and shackled. They treated him like a common hood. Scum of the earth. He had brushes with the law before but his past crimes—child's play compared to this. Alex glanced at the ill prepared defense lawyer the court had appointed, it was evident that this case was just given to him.

"Mr. Price you are charged with the willful intent to commit murder. How do you plead?" The judge asked.

"Guilty." Alex said.

"Your honor, my client was under extreme duress." The defense lawyer said.

" _Your client_ endangered the lives of his children. Not to mention his wife. We're talking more than just jaywalking here. Mr. Price is a danger to himself and others." The prosecutor argued.

"Where are we on bail?" The judge asked.

"We firmly stand at no bail, your honor." The prosecutor said.

"We ask that bail be set at 1,000 dollars." The defense attorney announced.

"I have no tolerance for people like you Mr. Price. There are consequences for your action. And these are dire. Under the influence or not, it's still a very serious crime. The bail is set at fifty thousand dollars. Tough luck counselor" He banged his gavel.

"Next Case."

Alex gazed at the judge and the man he had called his father as the officer carried him away. He didn't care about the consequences, didn't care about himself anymore. The family was most important and he knew whatever the punishment would be it was well deserved. What hurt the most was turning into someone he said would never be and letting everyone down who believed in him.

Alex laid on an old beat up cot, staring at a blank wall as the officer opened the cell. Frank approached him, disappointed. They were so much alike and yet so far apart.

"You're lucky I still got some pull in this town." Frank said, dropped a small manila envelope on the cot. Enclosed were his car keys, wedding band and wallet.

Frank was tall, pudgy and had a face that was forgettable.

"You don't have to check, it's all there. I saw your wife." Frank said.

"How is she?" Alex asked, jumped up

"She's in a coma. The doctors say its touch and go." Frank replied.

"I want to see her." Alex said.

"I talked it over with the judge. Here's the deal. Two years in rehab, two in therapy. No jail time AND YA STAY CLEAN!" Frank said, changing the subject.

"And one more thing, you're no longer a cop." Frank blurted out, exited the cell.

"I have to see her." Alex replied, grabbed the envelope and charged toward the door.

"She doesn't want to see you! I don't want to see you! What a classy girl like that ever saw in a schmuck like you I'll never know "Frank barked, sealed off the exit.

"Apparently the same thing my mom saw in you!" Alex said.

"Hey, I never put a bullet in her chest." Frank replied.

"No, you didn't. Just beat her to death. Thanks for bailing me out."

Alex grabbed his coat, angrily walked past Frank and slammed the door shut. He spent his life living in Frank's shadow. Golden boy was what the officers named him. Alex tried so hard to be what they wanted, what his father needed that he lost himself in the fold. Fellow officers wouldn't stop comparing him to the great Frank Price.

Frank died the next day. After he passed, the new wife wasn't the same.

Alex didn't show up to the funeral, or visit his final resting place to make amends.

The newspaper read: Frank Elroy Price. Sixty years old. Former Sergeant. Survived by his family. Died from a severe heart attack.

# 5.

"I'm looking for Zoe Price." Alex said.

"Zoe Price." The nurse typed away on the computer as Alex impatiently tapped his fingers on the counter.

"She's in ICU. Room 103." The nurse replied

Alex dashed down the hallway, cutting off everyone in his path. He was desperate to see her one last time and wanted to express his deepest sympathy. Alex looked in the glass window and hesitated for a minute before going in. _She looks so fragile.so helpless._ He thought.

"It's me. I'm probably the last person you expected huh? If your father sees me he'll blow a fuse." Alex paused

"I need you to fight. You can't die on me. Your kids need you. You're a survivor remember?"

_Maybe someday she can forgive me_ . He thought. Teardrops were falling down his face as he prayed for the first time in his life.

"Bye Zo."

Alex kissed her forehead and walked out of the room.

Just as he turned the corner, a man's angry fist struck a vigorous blow to his face, blood boiling, flashing the evil eye while leaving the rest of him on the ground.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I didn't know I needed an invitation to see my wife." Alex said, removing the blood from his bottom lip.

"Not for long." The man dropped the divorce papers on his lap.

"She's not even out of the coma yet and you're already running her life"

"A father's job is to protect his possessions. Don't you agree? I couldn't shield Zoe from you then but I can care for her now. Do me a favor, bow at now...or lose custody of your kids. Murder two. Reckless endangerment. You'll be fortunate if you see the twins in and out of a plated glass window." He let out a light chuckle.

Alex swallowed his pride and signed the papers, didn't have the strength to argue the case especially when it was flawed. He kneeled down, leered at his offspring, kissed their foreheads during the time they said their solemn goodbyes.

"Terrence" Alex said, balling up his fists, punched him.

"I owe you that." Alex walked away.

June, 1998

Zoe was released from the hospital, paralyzed from the neck down, consequently taking six weeks of extensive physical therapy to bounce back. In those six weeks Zoe had an awakening like she never experienced. She had an indescribable urge to reinvent herself and abandon anything that was in remembrance to her old life. She wouldn't tell a soul where she was going or how to get in contact. Zoe being the impetuous one, yanked the kids out of Preschool, packed their belongings and headed to suburbia. Northbrook, Illinois. Zoe needed a new start. Not to mention a new set of faces as she grew weary of admiring the old ones, making the move inevitable. Zoe had her heart set on a two-story house in the midst of a quiet gated neighborhood. She hired a realtor via a reliable source.

"This is it. Two bedrooms. Two bath. Full Jacuzzi. Hardwood floors. Fireplace. Beautiful view. Nice little gated community. Nearby to one of the best schools in the district. So, what do you think?" The realtor gave her a tour.

"I'll take it." Zoe said.

"Will your husband be joining us?" She said, prying.

"I'm divorced. Looking to..." She trailed off

"Start over? Well this is the perfect place for it." The realtor added.

Zoe was embarking on a new adventure.

She lifted up the trunk of the U-Haul and grabbed the first package. Out of nowhere, she heard a man's voice over her shoulder, startling her.

"Do you need any help?" Maize asked.

"Sorry didn't mean to scare you. I uh, I just live down the street. I'm Maize. Maize Blevins." He extended his hand, showing off his boyish smile.

"Zoe. Zoe Whitaker. And this is Medina and Isabel." She replied, shaking his hand, sizing him up. Zoe took it all in from his black wavy hair, blue eyes, pretty boy face right down to the chiseled body. She had a flare for picking a thoroughbred.

"It's nice to meet you." Maize kneeled down, acknowledging the twins.

"Just uh, grab whatever you can carry and follow me." Zoe instructed, eyes wandering.

"Yes Ma'am." Maize replied.

_I just got_ _out of a bad relationship; I'm not ready to dive into a new one. Although I can lose myself in his eyes_ , _it doesn't hurt to be neighborly._ She thought.

Zoe examined his strong masculine arms glistening in the hot sun while they unloaded the truck. Beads of sweat formed on his brown skin.

"Want some coffee?" Zoe asked.

"Please." Maize said.

Five minutes later, they stood in the well-decorated kitchen. The noise of the whistling coffee pot broke their silence. Zoe grabbed two sets of mugs out of one of the boxes, dumped two tablespoons of Taster's Choice in each.

"How do you take it?" She asked, turning off the stove, pouring the water in both.

"Black, two sugars." Maize said.

"My ex takes it the same way." She blurted out.

"Divorced?" Maize asked.

"What gave it away?" Zoe asked in a sarcastic manner.

"I didn't see a ring." He said, jokingly.

"You're very observant, going on a year now." Zoe said, handed him the cup and joined him at the table.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?" Inquired Maize.

Immediately her mind reverted back to that night. She laid a hand on her chest, as if she still felt the wound.

The solemn look on her face vanished as she changed the subject

"We just went our separate ways. What about you? Have you ever been?" Zoe sipped her coffee.

"I've been divorced for five years, irreconcilable differences. I got screwed. She got alimony." Maize confessed, took a swig.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Zoe said, touching his hand.

"Don't be. It was doomed from the moment we said I Do. Foolish of me to think the girl I knew since grade school could be my soul mate. She changed ya know, did a complete 180 on me. I tried to make it work, but it just wasn't in the cards. Now the only thing that means anything to me is my job and my son." Maize said.

"What do you do?" Inquired Zoe.

"I'm a private investigator, started the company with my pop. Blevins & Son Investigations. Now it's just me. I'm keeping the son, hoping one day Simeon will follow in my footsteps. A P.I. and a cop, the neighbors must feel so safe." Maze said, smiled.

"Is it that obvious?" Zoe asked.

"It's the way you carry yourself. I've been around enough badges to notice." Maize said, swallowed the last drop of coffee that was left.

"Can I get you a refill?" Zoe asked.

"It's getting late. I should be going. Thanks for the coffee." Maize checked his watch, headed to the door,

"Nice meeting you." Zoe said, extended her hand.

"It was really nice meeting you Zoe." Maize shook her hand longer than expected, laid a kiss on her cheek and left. She watched him walk away; thinking what kind of woman would give up a man like that. Thinking there was more to the story than he let on.

# 6.

Alex shamelessly stepped inside the rehab center, mentally preparing for the days to come, looked around at his surroundings. The decor of the place gave off a homey feeling, which made him feel more at ease. He swore that he would never set foot outside unless completely rehabilitated. Out of all his attempts, this would be the one that would stick. It had to. It was either this or prison.

Zoe wasn't the only one who needed a clean slate.

"You must be the new guy. Gary." He extended his hand.

"Alex." Alex said, shaking his hand.

His eyes began to wander. Alex was entirely out of his element, starting a new chapter and was prepped for the harsh road ahead, to unlock memories from his past, to get to the heart of why he started using. Alex wanted to be someone they could be proud of. Zoe and the kids was the only good thing he had left, the only thing that had meaning. Was he being sincere? Or was it all a ploy?

"Alex, do you have something you want to share?" Inquired the therapist.

"I agree with Erv. The sole reason I'm doing this is for my kids." Alex said.

"When did you first start using?" The therapist asked.

"I was eighteen; Frank called me from a pay phone to say in a very cavalier way that my mother had died, I didn't want to believe it at first, there was so much pain I didn't want to deal with. After that I never stopped." Alex said.

"Do you think your ex will ever forgive you? Can you forgive yourself?" The therapist asked

"That's the burning question isn't it?" Alex asked.

A single tear trickled down his cheek. That was one question he couldn't bring himself to answer. Alex knew he couldn't move forward until he made amends. If he was serious about turning over a new leaf, he had to start somewhere. After group, he made a mad dash to the public telephone, picked up the handset and reluctantly dialed a number. He played out this scenario a million times before and it always ended the same way—with Zoe hanging up in his face.

"The number you have reached is no longer in service. If you have reached this recorded in error, check the number and dial again."

Alex desolately hung his head down until realizing a piece of tattered paper lodged deep in his pockets, concealed with a P.I.'s number. He anticipated her every move. _Do you think you can get away from me that easily?_ He thought. Then casually fished for what would lead him back to her.

"Louis? It's me. I need you to locate someone for me. Zoe Whitaker. Why? Let's just say we have unfinished business."

He hung up abruptly, fidgeted with his hands. He was cooking up something and didn't know just yet.

Alex had the capacity to transform into two very different identities—Jekyll and Hyde. It started with the substance abuse at an early age, nevertheless that alter ego he suppressed for years—had a mind all its own. Alex never knew when it was coming. It could be in a blink of an eye. And just like that, everything would change.

* * * * * *

"All this time I blamed my father for everything that went wrong, when it was me." Alex confessed, continued to pour his heart out as the therapist and his peers listened intently.

"I chose not to face my demons. I chose to get back in a messy situation, even though I tried to get out of it. Thought I had a handle on things. I needed help. No one was around."

"You chose to kill her." A female patient blurted out.

"I loved her! I still, love her. That person, whoever that person was, wasn't me" Alex lied, looked up. They witnessed the severity in his eyes and voice.

"It wasn't you? You were separated, right? You didn't see your kids and had no support from her. As far as she was concerned you were dead. Are you sure there wasn't some small part that wanted to see her suffer?" She questioned. Alex shook his head in disbelief.

"She was right to take my kids away from me, but I didn't think she would abandon me. We took vows, to love and to cherish in sickness and in health. Until death do us part, I never meant to kill her." Alex said, telling a half-truth.

Alex shuffled back to the four cornered room, waited patiently for a telephone call that would never come, lay on the bed and viewed the wallet sized pictures of his family plastered on the wall. He glared at them like he could see into their souls, like they were frogs upon dissection. There was a secret that only they shared, as man and wife. Alex knew eventually it would all be revealed. On the sly, Alex cherished playing The Big Bad Wolf. He had a good teacher. _No more hiding. Ready or not here I come._

The sliding doors opened and in walked Alex's ace in the hole, better known as the private detective, carrying a manila folder. He had an honest face, which gave him an upper hand and a cleft chin, making him more gallant. They were old friends from Penn State. A fact Alex kept hidden from everyone around him. Everyone believed him more when he was a screw-up.

"I'm here to see Alex Price." He flashed the ID.

"Sign in please." The nurse instructed.

"Is he off his rocker?" The P.I asked.

"Follow me, this way." She gestured.

The private detective followed her to an empty room, noticed a plethora of photographs taped to the wall. It looked a little obsessive. But his job wasn't to weed out the crazies. This was no different from any other he accepted. In his line of work, money talked.

Alex, coming back from another one of his group sessions, joined him in his domain.

"I thought you were taller." The detective said.

"I thought you were drunk." Alex retorted.

They shared a manly hug.

"Enough with the pleasantries, what is she keeping from me?"

The private detective tossed the folder on the mattress, took a seat.

"For starters, Zoe and the girls are in Northbrook, Illinois. She got a job as a registered nurse at the NorthShore Medical Group. Now for the main course, she's shacking up with some guy. His name is Maize Blevins, private dick for hire."

Alex ransacked the documents, saw the photos of Maize and his ex kissing, holding hands, and doing God knows what.

"It's time I arranged a surprise visit." Alex smiled, slyly.

"What about for services rendered?" He asked.

"I'll have my "associate" wire you the money. I don't want nothing tying you to me." Alex said

# 7.

"Hello? Hello? I know you're there I can hear you breathing." Zoe said, agitated. She kept her whereabouts hidden, incidentally that made it all the more perplexing. Zoe was considered as the newbie around those parts. She never informed anyone about the details of her sordid past, and that was exactly the way she wanted it.

Maize grabbed the phone.

"Sandra?!"

Click. The line went dead. Maize hung up.

"Who was it?" Zoe asked.

"A wrong number. You know, I've been incapable of caring about anyone since my divorce." Maize changed the subject, hugged her from behind.

"I haven't had a man around the house in awhile; I was starting to forget what it felt like." Zoe turned around, wrapped her arms around his neck.

Maize ran his finger smoothly down her face, caressed her cheek and kissed her sweetly while pressing his body into hers. Maize slowly unbuttoned her blouse, led her to the bedroom, and took his time undressing her, making her want him even more.

After a long and torturous divorce Maize never considered he could be happy again. Nevermore believed he could fall for another woman. For a while he wouldn't get close to anyone.

Maize locked lips with every inch of her body, sucked on her nipples as he worked his way up. The sweet, bold smell of his cologne was enough to send her over the edge. Zoe wanted him more than any man, wanted to feel him inside of her, to explore every nook. Their undeniable passion was like a volcano on the brink of eruption. Maize thrust his manhood deep inside, taking in all of her, enveloping in her sweet nectar. Zoe moaned with anticipation.

"Say my name." Maize demanded, looked deep into her eyes. He had prepared to say something more meaningful but geared toward the end backed out. The last woman he said "I love you" to turned out to be a she-devil and seized him for everything he was worth.

Zoe cried out his name as she climaxed. They fell into each other's arms, drenched with unbridled passion.

"Let's go again." Zoe said, smiled.

"I'm gonna be late for work but I think I can make an exception in your case."Maize agreed, showing off his million-dollar smile.

Zoe finally found a man that was good to her and for her. They assumed they both won the lottery. Each of them had been dealt their share of hard times and had a deep appreciation when something good or someone good fell into their laps. Maize was different from the men she'd been with. Kind, warm, and caring, was a bit of a momma's boy and rarely had a bad side. Zoe was different from any woman he's ever been with. They considered themselves blessed. Everything she ever wanted from Alex came so easily with him. She was in love and back betting on black.

Maize pulled into the parking lot of his favorite coffee shop. The Great Bean. A medium sized family-owned business that specialized in fusion, acquiring unique coffee beans from all over the world, fusing them together to make one great cup of coffee. It had done pretty well for itself. Starbucks offered to buy them out but they humbly declined.

Maize sauntered in, approached the counter. The owner was there to greet him with a warm smile. He had a light caramel complexion, clean shaven head and slim build. Maize had been a regular customer ever since he was authorized.

"What's up brother?" The owner smiled.

"Shit, I can't call it." Maize smiled, sharing a bro hug.

"You want your regular?" The owner asked.

"My man." Maize said.

"Now see, a real man would've ordered something conventional like dark roast. Not that green tea shit." Sandra teased.

The sound of her voice still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. What is she doing here? He thought.

"But then again, you always loved money." She said.

"Maybe if I hadn't, you and that shark of a lawyer wouldn't have cleaned me out." Maize turned around, waiting for his order.

"Funny, I don't see your business suffering." Sandra replied.

"What do you want?" Maize asked, furrowed his brow.

"Have a seat." Sandra said.

"I don't have time for th—"

"It'll be quick. Sit. Please." She interrupted.

Maize walked slowly to the table, grabbed a chair, leery of what this was all about. This woman had two sides to her. The nice girl, the other side was pure nasty.

"How are you?" Sandra asked.

"How's little man?" Maize teased.

"Kenny and I didn't work out." Sandra sipped her latte.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Maize said, sarcastically.

"He knew I was still in love with you" Sandra said.

"You could've fooled me." Maize said.

"Please give us another chance." Sandra replied.

"I'm seeing someone." Maize said.

"You're fucking that bitch. There's a difference. You're not in love." Sandra said.

"No, but I'm in very strong like, which is more than I can say for you." Maize said.

Sandra threw the lukewarm coffee in his face. Maize smirked as if he knew a secret unbeknownst to anyone, wiped off the mess and paid for the orders. She'll never change. He thought.

"Always a pleasure" Maize addressed her, nonchalantly.

As he made his way to the door, she blurted out something unexpected.

"Her name is Zoe right? She got two kids doesn't she? Twins can be so challenging." Sandra said with a straight face, revealing her stout figure.

"If you hurt one hair on their head..." Maize paused.

"I'll kill you." Maize threatened.

"You can't kill a ghost." Sandra said.

She swung the door open and walked out of the shop. Maize and the customers who were at close proximity where taken aback.

# 8.

"Blevins & Sons Investigations, how may I help you?" The receptionist answered, spotted him coming in. Maize sat her drink at her desk, smiled and made a beeline to his office. He slammed the door.

The main office had Brushed Pearl painted walls, full desk accompanied by a small lamp, a fairly old photograph of him and his father as first time business owners and a vintage black rotary phone. In the corner was a small cabinet, marked for special cases. Followed by the brown butter soft leather sofa he acquired from IKEA. Not to mention a nice view overlooking the skyline.

Maize scratched his head, sipped the Green tea latte, took a long drag from his last cigarette and reflected back to Zoe—the lovemaking—and managed to get Sandra off his mind. He looked out the window, admiring the view.

Suddenly the phone buzzed proceeded by the receptionist's voice.

"Hamilton's on Line 1."

Maize slowly turned away from the stunning view, plopped on the edge of the desk, grabbed the phone and rested the receiver against his lips as if he was planning the next move very carefully. With one press of a button, Maize was connected with a man he considered to be an old dear friend.

"Spoonie, how's the fourth best lawyer in town?"Maize laughed wholeheartedly, took in the last puff from the cigarette.

"What, you moved up? My nigga. Yeah I got it." Maize combed through the file cabinet, withdrew a folder labeled S H Case. Spoonie was a high profile lawyer, in the middle of a big divorce settlement and needed his expertise to provide proof of infidelity where his client's wife was concerned. She had signed a prenuptial agreement stating if unfaithful she wouldn't get a dime of his money. His client suspected her of cheating early on. Maize tailed her for weeks.

"I'll send it over right now." Maize put it in a manila envelope.

"Better yet, I'll do it myself. I'll be there within the hour." He said, glancing at his watch.

Click.

Maize hung up, opened the drawer, grabbed the frame, replaced the picture of him and Sandra with a recent one of Zoe and moved it to the front of the desk.

"What a pretty girl." An older gentleman with salt and pepper hair said.

"Pop, what brings you by?"Maize said.

"Do I need a reason to see my son? So, when am I going to meet the girl that's stolen my boy's heart?" He asked.

"We're not there yet." Maize lied.

"This is the only meaningful relationship you've been in since the divorce. It can't be just platonic." The gentleman said.

"Dad, I gotta go. Come to dinner. You'll see her up close and personal. Doris, hold all my calls." Maize said, walking towards the exit.

In another office across town, Spoonie was hard at work, trying not to let this case consume him. The desk was a mess. Cluttered with documents and verification from another suit he was working on. He had a very unique filing system.

"Someone's here to see you." The receptionist announced.

"Send him in." Spoonie said, addressing the receptionist.

A woman walked in, carrying a picnic basket. His nose was buried-deep in paperwork. Suddenly Spoonie looked up, got up from the chair and greeted her.

"What a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting you." He smiled.

"Perhaps someone else?" the woman asked.

"My mistress, you know I'm getting it on the low." Spoonie said, jokingly.

She hit him, playfully. They shared a kiss. She stroked his black with a tang of gray hair, adored his tall stature.

"Hi." Sherry said.

"Hi." Spoonie replied. She sat the basket on the table.

"I'll see you later tonight right?" Sherry asked.

"Eight O'clock on the dot." Spoonie gave her a peck on the lips, then a longer one.

"Are you preying on helpless and defenseless women now?" Maize asked.

They spied Maize lingering in the doorway, darting his baby blues.

"How you been Sherry?" Maize hugged her

"You're looking good brother, almost as good as me." Spoonie chuckled, indulged in a bro hug.

"You two have a lot to talk about. I was just leaving. See you later sweetie." Sherry said.

"Later." Spoonie said.

Maize grabbed an apple from the basket and made himself comfortable.

"So, what you got for me?" Spoonie asked.

Maize dropped the envelope on the desk.

"A two timing cheating ex-wife." Maize added, taking a bite out of the apple.

"In flagrante delicto. In blazing offence." Spoonie said, eyeing the pictures.

* * * * * * * * *

August 1999

Alex's swarthy figure emerged from the muggy, wet dark shadows of the Penn Station, toting a large unmarked suitcase, sidestepping a puddle beneath his feet. Alex rode the escalator down to the lower level, paying no attention to the passers-by, drowning out the hustle and bustle of the nightwalkers. Notwithstanding its gloomy appearance, the ticket booth was still open—one person prowling inside—a man with black horn-rimmed glasses. He set the luggage down and drew near. His destination was apparent.

"I want a ticket to Chicago, one-way." Alex conceded, retrieved his wallet.

"Traveling by bus or train?" The ticket clerk asked.

"Train." Alex said.

"Do ya want business class or coach?" The ticket clerk inquired.

"Business class." Alex replied.

"Have a good one, many happy returns." He said, sliding the ticket under the small opening. Alex gripped the fare, brushed up against a sturdy surface and waited for the train to pull in. He fidgeted with his watch. It wouldn't be long now. He thought. Alex absorbed the clamor coming from the loud speaker, announcing new arrivals as the Amtrak hauled into station. He joined the others on the platform. Then boarded, gave the fare to the conductor, scored a seat in the back row so he could be less visible. Stretching out and drifting off to sleep, Alex didn't expect to be interrupted by anyone, let alone a beautiful woman.

"I think you're sitting in my seat." She said. Alex opened his right eye, setting his sight on her, sizing the woman up and moved accordingly.

"Traveling alone?"Alex asked.

"I don't have to talk to you"

"Oh but you do, Sandra."

# 9.

Alex arrived at his final destination, assorted flowers in hand, hopped out of the cab and told the driver to keep the meter running, whispering about the big tip in his near future. He stared at the dream house, peered around the quaint neighborhood, calmly rapped on the door and played with the wedding band he vowed never to take off. Unhinging the door, Alex saw her in all her glory. Even in scrubs, Zoe looked gorgeous. The look on her face was priceless and he treasured it.

"What are you doing here?" Zoe asked.

"I'm having a heatstroke. Aren't you going to invite me in?" Alex asked.

"How'd you find me?" Zoe asked.

"I have my ways." Alex replied.

"The kids are at school." Zoe said.

"I'll wait." Alex said, muscling his way in the air conditioned home, merely grazing her. He got a whiff of her essence and got lost in the scent, eyed an unopened pack of cigarettes, secured one and patted his pockets in search of his trusty lighter. Before Alex reached for it, a sudden compulsion to see her in a hospitable state came over him.

"Do you mind?" Alex asked, perching himself on the sofa,

He monitored as she carefully lit his cigarette, and then inhaled deeply.

"Did you think it would be that easy to get away from me?" Alex asked.

"Yes, considering you never cared about me in the first place." Zoe said. She witnessed a different side to him.

"Touché. Don't I get an A for effort?" Alex asked, cracked a smile.

"Maize this is--"

"I know who it is. Alex, right?" Maize interrupted the introduction.

"Malcolm right"? Alex replied.

"Maize." He corrected him.

"It's a pleasure." Alex lied, extended his hand. Behind that fake smile, his blood was boiling.

"Likewise I'm sure." He lied, gritted his teeth and punched him.

Maize balled up his fists, ready to fight for what was his. In all the commotion they didn't notice a young Price running up to him, leaving a cracked door behind.

"Daddy!" Medina exclaimed.

"Hey, how's my girl?" Alex said, wrapped her in a full embrace.

"Where's Issy?" Alex asked.

Standing in the doorway, Isabel looked right through him as if a ghost had taken over his body, and then gravitated towards Maize, therefore making her choice known. She wasn't the forgiving type. Isabel saw him for what he was and remembered more than her twin ever did. About what really happened and not just some fabricated story.

"Issy it's me. Issy! You're turning my daughter against me?!"Alex said, irritated.

"No. You are." Zoe chimed in.

"Just go." Isabel interjected.

Alex gave up but vowed he will be back, presented Medina with a gift—a 14 karat gold pendant necklace, he fastened around her neck. He kissed her and ended the jilted send-off with the number to his cell phone.

Alex retreated to the cab, defeated but not beaten

* * * * * * * * *

"Is cash okay?" Alex inquired, observed all the areas of the room and envisioned what he could do with the empty space.

"It's fine. Just sign here. Will your wife be joining you?" She asked, gestured to his wedding band, hoping there was some mistake.

"My wife, she's tying up some loose ends." Alex glanced at it, fiddled with it. He still saw it for what it represented and was prepared to be buried with it. Alex signed the lease, confirming Zoe's worst fear. The house was beautiful, a tad on the expensive side, in a nice neighborhood. But most importantly, it was closer to her.

After Alex was released from the clinic, he sold their house and came to suburbia with just a suitcase packed with clothes and a five million dollar inheritance he got from his father's passing. The only thing Frank ever gave him that was worthwhile. Prior to the trip, Alex visited Frank's grave to make amends. Alex had planned on never forgiving him. But this was a step he couldn't neglect. A final step towards healing, the therapist called it. He offered his condolences to the wife and younger brother and promised to stay in touch when he got settled. Of course he was a good liar. He didn't care about them and it wasn't his intention to connect with anyone who was held accountable for his mother's fatal demise.

Alex couldn't hide his true self any longer. Alex was a made up name and his scapegoat when in need of a detour. Only a select few knew the real one. Henry. The name given to him by his birth parents. In order to keep up appearances he created a fake persona and it worked. As for the why, it will forever be shrouded in secret. He made the executive decision to come out of hiding when he no longer needed to be Alex Price. He created a fake life but it wasn't all an act.

"What do you think you're doing?" Zoe asked, spying on him.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm moving." Henry said in a huff.

"Alex you can't" Zoe said.

"I am, too late to get the security deposit back." Henry said, entering the house.

"What do you want?" Zoe said, going after him.

"What belongs to me. What about you? What do you want?"" Henry closed the door behind her and cornered her.

"I want you out of my life." Zoe said.

"Did you just come over here to tell me that? I know you still feel something." Henry came closer.

"What we had was over long before you got here."

As soon as Zoe advanced toward the door, he grabbed her and kissed her. Zoe pushed him away and slapped him abruptly. Henry reached for her, kissed hard, forcing his tongue down her throat like a starving man, as if he was in need of her. He had a burning desire no one else could fill, an itch no one else could scratch. Zoe struggled, except the temptation was so great she couldn't resist. There was a part of her body that still craved his touch. She tasted his lips, entwining her tongue with his. Henry pushed her against the wall, lifted her up while she wrapped her legs around his waist. Henry unzipped his pants and penetrated her. Henry wanted her more than ever. He knew he could make her happy if given the chance and would spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

A single tear trickled down her cheek. It was a sign of joy and sorrow. She wanted to forget about him. But she missed him, missed his kiss, his touch. The way his alabaster skin felt against hers.

# 10.

"This can't happen again." Zoe said, putting on her clothes.

"I'm not giving you up." Henry said, pouring the whiskey, averting his eyes.

"Maize asked me to marry him." Zoe said.

"What was your answer?" Henry asked, taking a swig.

"Yes." Zoe said with confidence.

"I won't live without you. If I can't have you, no one else will." Henry said with determination, looking over his shoulder. He watched her leave. Henry was never going to let her go as long as she was in his arms again. Henry believed they were meant to be and he was prepared to fight for her. Henry knew the love was still there even if she refused to admit it. They had something that just won't die. Or maybe he won't let it die. Henry became obsessed with her. He could have any woman he wanted. Instead Henry wanted her, and she was slipping far from his grasp. He loathed the feeling of being unwanted.

Henry lived off his father's inheritance, spent his days doing whatever he wanted. When Zoe wouldn't succumb to his charms, he found other outlets to release his exasperations. Scantily clad women and phone sex operators were his guilty pleasures. During the day, Henry showered the children with gifts, aiming at winning their hearts, although his affection for them was unclear. Was it phony or was it real? Was it love or just another distraction?

Alex Price had existed in him for many years, had worn him like a second skin, and with that, poised the million-dollar question......... Who is Henry Vada?

Henry came to a place that wasn't his own. He started driving a wedge between Zoe and Maize, which he enjoyed to no end. Maize and Henry almost engaged into a fist fight until she broke it up and was forced to be the mediator. Maize went to a nearby bar to clear his head.

Another order of club soda later, Henry waltzed in and sat next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Maize demanded, sipping the soda.

"I'm here to talk." Henry said, sitting in the bar stool next to him.

"What did you want?" Maize asked.

"I want my family back."Henry said.

"Your kids aren't for sale. Neither is my fiancé'. They're just a commodity to you." Maize said, calmly, and then grabbed the bottle of scotch from the bar, hit the back of his head with it.

"That's for them. If you hurt Zoe and those kids again, I'll lock you up myself." Maize ordered his last drink and left Henry on the floor, throbbing in pain. You can't keep me away from what's mine. Henry thought.

After polishing off his drink, Maize helped him to his feet, then gripped his hand and pulled him in.

"That should show you just how serious I am." Maize said with an intense stare.

"Have a nice night." Maize playfully hit his back and left.

Henry felt the bump on the back of his neck and saw the blood on his fingers. He darted his eyes to the door. No one was going to get in the way of his true love.

"Do you need to call someone?" The bartender asked.

"I suppose I do, reinforcements." Henry said.

The bartender propped a 1970 rotary phone on the mahogany wood countertop.

Zoe had been a registered nurse at Northshore Medical for over three months. She wanted to redefine herself, get her feet wet in a new town. Do something unexpected. It took her a while to get used to everything. To find her groove. Once she found it, she proved to be a valuable asset and considered it a nice change of pace from what was taught. Zoe didn't know whether it was The Burbs, the new man in her life, or what. But she found herself not missing the city all that much and surprised how much she loved her job; rarely missing donning on that blue uniform she wore so proudly. Zoe was getting used to something her kids tolerated.

She located a quiet place in the ladies' room to clear her head, mascara running as her eyes welled up, the confirmation in hand—a pregnancy test that proved positive. Zoe was dead set against keeping it. A steady reminder of her discretion.

Why did he have to come here? She asked herself.

"It's yours. And I'm getting rid of it." Zoe said, putting the pregnancy stick in the palm of his hand.

She meant every word. Zoe was done with him. However, he didn't share the same sentiment. A sudden rage came over Henry, gnawing away at his insides as he struck her down. Zoe fell against the wall, hit her head and was rendered unconscious.

"Sorry Zo. But you know who I am. Our family doesn't believe in abortion. Maybe I can cut it out of you and watch you bleed to death. God you're beautiful." Henry stared, cradled her face and leaned in. Henry dragged Zoe to the bedroom, had his way with her then dumped her in the yard. _What do you give a girl that has everything? Nothing_. He thought.

Zoe lay on the lawn, the timed sprinklers reviving her from slumber, uninformed of the previous event that took place.

* * * * * *

"I just saw your girl. It's almost a shame to kill her. You know what the name Zoe means? Death, or it will be before I'm finished with her." A muffled voice said.

"Sandra, I'm warning you." Maize said over the phone.

Click.

The handset slipped out of Maize's hand as he snatched the coat off the hanger, switched off the lights and hightailed out of the door. He was sure it was a prank caller but couldn't escape the look of concern on his face.

# 11.

Maize raced home in a blind fury like a madman, petrified of what she would do. Sandra had a history of assault and battery; combined with desperation he feared the worst. Even though he wasn't a violent man, he'd never been more anxious to get his hands around her neck.

Maize went down a dirt path. It was his attempt at a short cut. What was left was a mushy mess. The car stalled, aspiring to get around it. Maize stomped his foot on the gas pedal more than once but had to admit he was stuck. The wheels were covered in mud, he was trapped. Maize got out and made a run for it, adamant that nothing was going to get in the way.

The neighborhood was quiet. Painfully quiet. Almost like a ghost town. It was rather odd. To say he was caught off guard was an understatement. Maize moved nearer to the back entrance. Much to his dismay, the door was already cracked. It creaked as it widened and he cautiously walked in. The house was pitch-black. Not to mention calm. Unnervingly calm. No ruckus from the kids, causing him to be curious of their whereabouts.

"Zoe? Sandra?" He called out.

As Maize explored further, the texture of the floor was different.

What is this? He thought.

He switched on the lights, scrutinizing the black goo on his shoe and came to face-to-face with his bride—laying in a pool of her own black and viscid blood—the letter K predominantly carved in her. Maize scanned her pale face, then the negligee she wore just for him. It was ripped, either from the struggle or something far worse. Enfolding her in his arms, he bellowed, letting all the anger and fear pour out. Maize spotted the knife near the stairwell, picked it up. He heard footsteps. He wasn't alone.

The children were behind him. He faced them, caught their intense stare.

The sound of police sirens broke their peace. What were they doing up there so long? Didn't they hear her scream? How did the police get here so fast? He thought.

Police officers encircled the home—dusting for prints—taking snapshots of the victim from all angles—observing the body—questioning the children.

Maize was in custody, fitting the description from an anonymous 911 caller. Medina eyed the corpse, tears trickling down her cheek, and then faced Maize, blatantly ignoring the seasoned officer who was growing impatient by the second. She had a scar on her face from a case she dare not speak of and piercing eyes.

"Do you guys know what happened?" The detective asked.

The children were still in shock and had no recollection of what transpired. They had so many things consuming them; it was hard keeping them straight.

"Did your mom have any enemies? Come on, help me help you. Talk!" She yelled at the children.

No response.

"Talk." She repeated, lost her temper.

"They've been through enough." Another officer stepped in.

"Have they?" The detective said.

The Master Sergeant strolled in, lifted up the yellow tape and examined the stiff. It reeked of putrefaction. The stench was in the atmosphere. It was so thick she couldn't stand it. The sergeant threw up, and then covered her mouth. "What do we have?" The sergeant asked.

"Single black female, her name is Zoe Whitaker, early thirties, bullet to the head and the perp was thoughtful enough to send a message. We got a suspect in custody. His fingerprints are all over the murder weapon. He's got motive and opportunity." She replied.

"Did anyone see anything?" the sergeant asked.

"According to the 911 caller they were the last ones to see her alive. They know something but they're not talking. Frigging freaks of nature is what they are." She said.

"Their mother was hacked into. Show a little compassion." The sergeant said.

"Aye, aye sir." She said.

The children were on the couch. Their minds drew a complete blank. The master sergeant approached, joined them. She knew what it was like to lose a parent. The children looked into her eyes. Her eyes were as deep as pools that they could see themselves in them.

"My name is Sergeant Aiko. I know this is tough. I considered Zoe a friend. I want to put whoever did this behind bars, but I need your help."

Medina and Isabel glanced at the detective. Then at her face. It was anything but kind, more so distrustful. They felt uncomfortable around her.

"It's a nice night. Let's take a walk." The sergeant said.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sergeant." The detective said.

"I don't pay you to think, Detective. I'm making an exception. Got a problem with that?" The sergeant said.

The detective gritted her teeth and mumbled under her breath.

They walked outside as the coroner stuffed the corpse in the body bag. The image was something they couldn't escape. They walked along the paved sidewalk, the night sky bouncing off their faces.

"I know you're scared. The world can be a terrifying place when you don't know who to trust. He could've killed you both." The sergeant said.

"He wouldn't do that." Medina said.

"Why wouldn't he?" The sergeant asked.

"Cause Daddy paid him off." The children said in unison, chanted. The creepy monotone sent a chill down her spine. They pointed to the back of the cruiser. Maize was in cuffs, worried he would never see the twins again.

The door busted open. Maize and Detective Holcomb entered the department. Then Sergeant Aiko and the twins, ambling in single file. All eyes were on the children. Holcomb tightened her grip, threw him in the interrogation room. Meanwhile, Aiko led the twins to an empty desk.

"Have a seat." She said, walked away, and then closed the door as she followed Holcomb in the room.

The police interrogation room was sparsely furnished, just a table and three chairs. The furniture was plain. There was a cassette recorder on the table and a large one-way mirror. The lighting was cold and harsh.

Holcomb walked in, approached the table and sat a warm cup of coffee in front of him.

"Maybe you should get these things off me first; they're digging into my skin." Maize said.

The detective retrieved the key and unlocked the cuffs.

"Thanks." Maize said, sipped the coffee, and tried to piece everything together. His world was literally turned upside down. The loss of Zoe hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Ok Maize you know the drill, where were on the night in question?" Aiko asked.

"At the office, I was there until twelve. I got an anonymous call from someone threatening to kill my fiancé'. I rushed home."Maize said.

"Can your secretary confirm that?" Holcomb interjected, snarling at him.

"No. I gave her the day off." Maize said.

"How convenient, how far is your job?" Holcomb said.

"Twenty minutes away." Maize said.

"According to the coroner, your wife was slain at twelve-thirty" Holcomb said.

"A mere coincidence." Maize said.

"It's more than just a mere coincidence." Holcomb said.

"It's just a coincidence! It was too late! I took a short cut. My car stalled. I ran on foot but I was too late." Maize said.

The detective got up, pressed her hands firmly on the table.

"Let me paint a picture for you. That pretty little wife of yours, she got restless. I've seen it a thousand times. Maybe you couldn't satisfy her in bed. Or maybe she was just a filthy whore." Holcomb said.

Maize charged at her and grabbed her by the collar. He never wanted to hit a woman more in his life. Officers like her knew which buttons to push.

"You're a real jerk you know that." Maize said.

The detective laughed, smiled slyly as he loosened his grip.

"She had an affair. You found out about it, told her to call it off. She wouldn't. And you figured, if you can't have her no one else will. You killed her. And the baby was just a bonus." Holcomb dropped the autopsy report on the table.

What baby? He thought.

He opened the folder, thumbed through the report.

"Leave us; I need a moment with him." The sergeant said.

The detective left, slamming the door behind him. Aiko snatched a chair, sat across from him and withdrew a pack of cigarettes.

"Smoke?" She said.

"Please." Maize said.

Aiko struck a match, lit up, then him. They inhaled deeply.

"You gotta believe me." Maize said.

"You gotta understand the position I'm in. We have no other suspects. No leads. My hands are tied." She said.

"What about Sandra?" He asked.

"I have a sworn statement from her boss claiming she was with him all night. And that phone call you received, traced it all the way down to this sweet old lady from Rochester." She said.

"Alex?" He asked.

"He's disappeared. House was empty, looked like it never been lived in. Already put out a BOLO. Best I can do." She said.

"What happens to my kids?" He asked.

"You know how the system works." She said.

"I'm afraid I do. They're all they have left. If they get split up, it'll do more damage than good." Maize said.

"I'll try my best. In the meantime, lawyer up. Know any good attorneys? For what it's worth, I'm sorry." She said, leaving the room.

Later, an officer took him back to the holding cell.

The children and Maize exchanged glances. They didn't know what to feel. Nothing would be the same again.

# 12.

"This is Phil. He's here to take you to a new home." Aiko said, kneeling down.

Medina and Isabel faced him, stared him down as if he was anything but human.

"You must be the twins I've heard so much about." The social worker said.

"You must be death." Isabel said.

The twins glared at his rugged face and kind smile. They didn't care who he was or what he was there for. To them, he was the enemy.

Medina and Isabel flew past them to the exit, running as fast as they could. They didn't know where they were headed but they knew they'd be together. They were adamant on making their own way. They looked back only for a minute. The social worker and the sergeant were behind them. Medina and Isabel kept running faster and faster. The social worker and Aiko chased after them like a pack of wild dogs. They came closer. And closer. The twins had never been apart, literally joined at the hip. They were sisters. So different from each other but still blood. They needed each other more than ever. They were longing for the days when everything was perfect.

The funeral was held at a cemetery of her choosing.

The director handled all the arrangements. Prior to the unfortunate incident, Zoe made a will declaring her final wishes, making Maize the beneficiary.

The twins were surrounded by her friends. Henry's family heard the news and wanted to pay their respects.

An oversized photograph of Zoe stood beside the casket. The mourners took in her creamy brown skin and honey eyes and remembered how she was. The kind of person she was. Tears streamed down their faces. Medina and Isabel sat next to each other, hands clasped together, knowing this was the last time. They knew their lives would never be the same. The twins approached the casket, gawked at her, imagining the horrid exposed body as if it was revealed to the public. The twins laid a single black rose at her side.

"Bye Mother." Isabel mumbled under her breath.

Medina bent down, kissed her on the cheek. Then her mind traced back to that night. How she looked. How pale her face was.

Who was really behind this?

Maize stepped forward, spoke in a tone that could only be perceived by the undead, shed a few tears and shuffled back to his seat, where the guard was waiting for him.

"Ashes to Ashes, and dust to dust." The pastor recited.

The twins watched the pine box descend deeper and deeper in the ground, thus making it a defining moment in their childhood that nothing lasts forever. Life doesn't go the way you expect, no matter how badly or how desperate. They didn't know what lie ahead for them. They were more than scared. They felt terrified.

Isabel gazed at the grave as if Zoe's death was absolute. A single hot tear dropped from her cold cheek to the final resting place, then another. Maize walked past, glanced at her face and halted.

"It's time to go." The guard said.

"Give me a minute. I'm sorry Issy." Maize said.

"Everybody's sorry about something." Isabel said.

"It's okay to cry. I loved her too." Maze replied.

"Did you kill her?" Isabel asked.

"How can you ask me that?" Maize asked, sadness in his voice.

"Alright let's go." The guard shoved him, led him back to the squad car. She watched him leave.

It had to be him. Who else could it be? She thought.

The ones who knew the truth planned to take it to their graves. The twins knew what had happened. Either they were sworn to secrecy by the man they trusted. Or they were threatened by a man they hardly knew.

Medina stared at the headstone, looked at her morose reflection in its polished surface. Suddenly an unfamiliar voice caught her off guard. She was a short little thing with a thick Spanish accent.

"Hi." Ava said.

Medina turned around to face her. She thought she was alone.

"Hi." She replied.

"I'm sorry about your mother." Ava said.

"Thanks. Are you going to say she was a good person too?" She said, with a little sass.

"There is no good or bad. My mother says we're all sinners." Ava replied.

A scruffy mysterious man emerged out of nowhere, dressed in a black suit and hair down to his neck.

He closed in on Medina, his probing eyes beating down her back. They told a story. Medina spotted him from a distance, convinced he was just another onlooker, a stranger.

"Is that man your dad?" Ava asked, gestured to the mysterious man.

"I don't have a father." Medina glared at him.

"Ava! We have to go!" A woman cried out.

"Bye."Ava said.

"Bye." Medina mumbled under her breath. She looked up. The social worker motioned to the car. She walked towards him, got in the back seat, glanced at Isabel. They visualized what their new life would be like. What kind of foster parents they would have. No one could ever take Zoe's place. They knew going in that whatever mother they'd get stuck with would be a mere consolation prize.

January, 2000

The twin's first foster family was temporary, an old brick house that was owned by an old lady. She had a gang of kids who were deemed unwanted and unloved. She ruled with an iron fist and gave all the love she could, in her own unique way. It was a home but it wasn't theirs. They wouldn't have a place to call home again. They made a few friends but most of the time kept to themselves. It was hard getting used to a new place. The girls and boys who resided there made up their minds about the twins, labeling them as stuck up and vain. The twins spent most nights lying in bed, letting their imaginations carry them to a far off place, where they could be anyone they wanted to be and go anywhere they wanted to go. They escaped their troubles by creating their own little world. To deal with the bad hand life had dealt them.

The next morning their worst fear had been realized. Two social workers had come to the old house to split them up, revving their engines with anticipation. Lord knows what kind of people they would put them with. Everyone was different. They embraced and held on tight. Neither one of them wanted to let go. They didn't want to say goodbye. Medina and Isabel vowed to be together even when they weren't, courtesy of their secret world.

Medina and Isabel screamed as the workers pulled them apart. They shoved them in the back of the cars. Medina promised this wasn't the end as she looked out the window, ogling Isabel. Isabel returned the gaze. They can't keep us apart forever. She thought. Medina knew this didn't mean goodbye forever. Just for a little while.

Isabel called out a name. K.O.L. Before the rest of the letters flew out of her mouth, Medina made a shush gesture like it was forbidden. Isabel nodded in agreement as they drifted further and further away.

# 13.

Maize glanced at his watch. He was an emotional wreck.

Where the hell is Spoonie? He thought. He nervously straightened his tie. Spoonie came busting through the doors, wearing a pinstripe suit and glasses. Both made him look distinguished. He came prepared, ready for anything the prosecutor threw at him. That made one of them.

Hamilton & Dunn was a medium sized firm. One of the well established firms in Chicago. They lost cases. But they also won a lot of them, which put Maize's mind at ease. When Spoonie first got word of what had happened, he hired a P.I. to track Henry down but it seemed he had fallen off the face of the earth. No trace of him anywhere. Henry didn't return to his beloved hometown, where the police were waiting to detain him. Spoonie wasn't the kind to give up so easily. He figured he'd slip up sooner or later and when the moment comes he'll be there to catch him.

"Sorry, was held up." Spoonie said.

"No problem, it's just my life." Maize said.

"All rise" The bailiff declared.

They stood in front of the judge. The prosecutor smirked at them. As far as she was concerned, it was an open and shut case and he would die by lethal injection.

"Court is now in session, the honorable Hal Weitzman presiding." The bailiff announced.

"You may be seated. Mr. Blevins you are charged with first degree murder. How do you plead?" The judge asked.

"Not guilty." Maize said.

"Your honor, I intend to prove that Mr. Blevins is nothing more than a common criminal who took the life of an innocent woman, robbing her children of the only mother they've ever known." The prosecutor said, paused.

"You will hear from their heartfelt testimonies. You will see the truth, and I hope you find him guilty." She said, facing the jury.

The prosecutor went back to her seat. It was time for Spoonie's opening statement. He slowly stood up, took one look at his notes and addressed the jury. He couldn't shake the fact that he was holding a man's life in his hands. Not just any man, his best friend. He cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client is not a criminal. He's a victim. His entire life he's done nothing wrong--"

"I wouldn't call aggravated assault nothing." She interrupted.

"Order in this court, I'm warning you counselor. "The judge banged his gavel.

"But to call it a step away from murder is nothing more than a desperate prosecutor reaching. I implore you to look carefully, to pay attention to the smallest detail. Then and only then, will you see the truth."

Maize doodled on his pad, tried to picture the face of the man that was the root of his anguish. He couldn't confirm it although he knew Henry was behind it somehow. All of this transpired when he came to town. Zoe's old flame winded up being dangerous, once the fire had burned out.

"Call the first witness." The judge said.

"I'd like to call Mr. Forbes to the stand." The prosecutor said.

A slender well-groomed man came forward, handkerchief in hand, and advanced the podium. The bailiff swore him in.

"Mr. Forbes, how long have you been a medical examiner?" She asked.

"Twenty years." He said.

"So, one can assume you've seen just about everything, "

"Just about, except this." He said, putting on his glasses.

"Care to enlighten us?" She asked.

"The body was carved into with a butcher's knife, almost hollowed out. I've never seen anything like it." He replied, wiping the dirt off his glasses.

"Is this the knife you're referring to?" She asked, holding the plastic bag.

"Yes." He said.

"I present the court with Exhibit A, the murder weapon. The defendant's fingerprints are all over it."She said, facing the courtroom. The prosecutor grabbed the various photos of the crime scene.

"Do you recognize these?" She asked, handing them over.

"Yes "He said, awkwardly.

"In your expert opinion, could you shed some light on the type of person who would do this?"She asked.

"See these violent strokes right here? The killer has a perverse deep-seeded hatred towards her. He wanted to make her suffer, a jilted lover perhaps." He said.

"Is it possible the killer could be a woman?" The prosecutor asked.

"Absolutely not, nothing of this magnitude." The medical examiner said.

"Thank you. No further questions, your witness." She said.

Spoonie straightened his suit and walked toward the witness stand as if he held all the cards. He had cases like this but not as personal, none that hit home. His only line of defense was to discredit the witnesses. Spoonie would soon find out if thirty years of law school paid off.

"Mr. Forbes, Lewis Hubert Forbes of 950 E 104th Place. That's you right?" Spoonie asked, stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You know it and I know it. What's the meaning of this?" He asked.

"Stick to the facts Mr. Hamilton." The judge said, sternly.

"Look at those photos again. What do you see?" Spoonie asked.

"I see a tortured woman." He said, combed the photos.

"A tortured woman with a 4 week old fetus, yet the autopsy report that you administered showed no record of it correct?" Spoonie asked.

"Yes but--"

"But you went over it countless times did you not?" Spoonie interrupted.

"Yes. I wanted to make sure." The medical examiner said.

"And did you?" Spoonie asked.

"Yes. I took a sample of the baby's blood. The DNA was inconclusive."

"Were you aware that she was also raped? Or did you manage to overlook that as well." Spoonie replied.

"Objection." The prosecutor said.

"Overruled." Said the judge.

"I present Exhibit B to the court, the DNA test results from the sperm sample found inside the victim, which verifies that my client is not the donor." Spoonie announced, handed it to the judge.

"The victim was raped twenty-two hours before the murder. It holds no precedence." Mr. Forbes said.

"Everything holds precedence Mr. Forbes. I'm sure if we had Alex Price's sperm it will attest that he's been behind this from the very beginning." Spoonie replied, losing his composure.

"Alex Price is not on trial." The prosecutor chimed in.

"Maybe he should be on trial!" Spoonie said, paused.

"Nothing further." Spoonie said, went back to his chair, and eyed his notes.

"The people call Medina Price to the stand."She said.

The bailiff ushered her in. Medina made her way to the pedestal, eyed the crowd. Another bailiff swore her in. She looked at Maize. Maize looked back at her.

"Put your hand on the bible. Raise your right hand and repeat after me. I, Medina Price do solemnly swear."The bailiff said.

"I, Medina Price do solemnly swear."She recited.

"To tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God."The bailiff finished.

"To tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God." She replied.

The woman leveled from the uncomfortable chair. Medina counted the steps as she sauntered to the base. The woman wanted justice and she would do anything to get it, even if it hurt innocent people in the process. Her kind of justness was blind. All she had to do was convince a jury what she believed to be true. She was convinced he was guilty without looking at all the facts. And in this case, the information spoke louder than facts ever could.

# 14.

Medina and her stepfather exchanged gazes once more. She fidgeted with her hands, then hair. Taking deep breaths made her more relaxed. Medina looked at the jurors, then the crowd. Among them was a squirrely man. He was both Korean and Filipino. He had an off-white complexion and dark eyes. For a moment she was under his spell. Then without warning she panted.

"Are you alright?" The prosecutor said, noticed a change in her demeanor.

Medina nodded her head effortlessly, reassured her nothing was wrong. She knew that was farther from the truth. Why is he here? She thought. It was clear the man was here for one reason.

"Are you able to continue?" The judge asked, concerned.

She gave another nod.

"You may precede Ms. Mills." The judge ordered swiveled back in his chair.

"Medina, do you love your mother?"

"Of course I do."

"Would you do anything for her?"

"Yes."

"Even it means sending someone you love to jail for a long time?" The woman asked, slowly getting to the point.

Medina looked at Maize, then the squirrely man.

"Yes."

"Good. Can you think back to that night and tell us what occurred, step by step." She said.

Medina flashbacked to the awful night, where she not only lost a mother but the real father she ever had.

"It was late. Mother waited up for him. Isabel and I were asleep. It was past our bedtime. Isabel woke me up; she thought she heard a burglar. The next thing we heard were muffled voices. They were getting louder."

"Did you recognize them?"

"Yes. It was my mother and father. They were arguing. I don't know what about but it was heated." Medina replied, telling a half truth.

"She let out a blood curdling scream...then BANG!" Isabel said, giving her testimony, making a gun gesture.

Isabel nearly startled the whole room. Her words commanded attention, much like her twin. Jurors found themselves on the edge of their proverbial seats.

The squirrely man hung on to her ever word, hoping she would keep their promise.

"We were scared. We ran downstairs calling her name. She didn't answer. We reached the bottom of the stairs...that's when we saw him....our father standing over her body with the gun in his hand.

"That's not how it happened!" Maize blurted out.

"Mr. Hamilton, control your client!" The judge demanded.

"Do you see your father anywhere in this courtroom?" The prosecutor asked.

"He's sitting next to Mr. Hamilton." Isabel said, pointed to him.

Maize opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out.

"Calm down man. They don't know what they're saying." Spoonie said in a whisper.

"Was there anyone else in that house?" The prosecutor asked.

"No." Isabel lied.

"Are you certain?" She asked.

"One hundred percent." Isabel confirmed.

"No further questions, your witness counselor." She said, and then plopped in her seat. He sprung out from the chair, ready to address the court and put his strategy to work. Maize grabbed his arm in an effort to gain his sympathy. He didn't want the twins to relive something that would torment them behind their wildest dreams. He decided it was in their best interest. What was in his?

"What? Are you crazy? This is the only shot we have." Spoonie whispered.

"They've been through the ringer." Maze replied.

"So have you." Spoonie retorted.

"I don't want them to undergo anymore pain." Maize said.

"Mr. Hamilton." The judge beckoned.

"That's admirable. But that's also stupid. I know you care about those kids. But what kind of father can you be to them, in prison for the rest of your life?" Spoonie asked.

"Mr. Hamilton, we're waiting." The judge said.

"Trust me; I know what I'm doing." He jerked his arm back, addressed the witness.

"That's what I'm worried about." Maize said, hoping that he would take it easy on them. He hardly showed mercy when it came to the courtroom. Didn't matter the age. He treated everyone the same

"In your earlier statements, you found it hard to believe that my client committed this crime, correct?" Spoonie asked, looking at her.

"Yes." Isabel said.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Spoonie asked.

"What do you mean?" Isabel asked, coyly.

"You believe Mr. Blevins did it. Without a shadow of doubt you absolutely believe he slaughtered your mother. Why?" Spoonie asked, scrunching up his face.

"Why not?" Isabel said, curtly.

"You said you were in bed sleeping correct?" Spoonie asked.

"Yes." Isabel replied.

"What time did you two go to bed?" Spoonie asked.

"Ten." Medina said.

"Does your mother normally let you stay up on a school night?"

"No. It was an exception." Medina said.

"You heard a noise, and then muffled voices. Zoe screams. Then the gun goes off. You hurried downstairs, saw my client standing over her body, those are your correct words, right?"

"Yes" Medina uttered.

"And what time was that?" Spoonie asked.

"A little before midnight, I guess." Medina said.

"Do you know an innocent man's life hangs in a balance all due to your guestimate? Is that fair?" Spoonie said, sternly.

"Objection! Argumentative." The prosecutor defended.

"Sustained." The judge decreed.

"Withdrawn. Was her body mutilated?" He asked.

"Objection! She has been exposed to enough turmoil." The woman jumped out of her chair.

"Why do we have her as a witness at all if she can't answer a simple question?" Spoonie turned to the judge, and then scratched his stubble.

"I'll allow it. Answer the question child." The judge said in a low tone.

The woman was furious. She sat and watched the whole spectacle, her concentrated stare pulsating down his back as if her hazel eyes were lasers and could annihilate him with one movement.

Spoonie had his suspicions about her and her so-called practice. She had built quite a reputation for getting certain people off in exchange for a large sum of blood money. No one knew her motivation behind it. Nor will they ever know.

"I don't understand." Medina said, put on a false front. She played her part well, too well. They bought it, all but one. To him, she was transparent. Why is she doing this? What is she hiding? He thought. Spoonie scanned the audience. The seats were occupied by members of the press and friends of the family. Then the back row, the squirrely man sat, legs halfway crossed, an old baseball cap shielding his face. _Who is he? What business does he have here? Have I seen him before?_

The judge broke his focus.

"Mr. Hamilton, time's a wasting."

He jerked his head back.

"I'm sorry your honor. Uh, where was I?"

The court reporter went back to the last question, read it aloud.

"Yes of course. Was she carved into or did he make you watch?"

# 15.

Those words cut her like a knife. Her mind went blank. In a flash the courtroom was as black as night, except Medina wasn't in the courtroom. Somehow she had found a way to travel in her mind. She glided along a dark stairwell. An impertinent stench permeated the air. Medina squeezed the rail, trudged down the stairs and then slowly crept in the living room. Zoe lay in the center, in her own blood. The bullet lodged in her forehead. Eyes open.

The squirrely man extracted the butcher's knife and carved her like a thanksgiving turkey. Medina screamed. Nothing came out. It was like her voice was nonexistent. The thick trail of blood moved closer to her. She couldn't move. It kept coming. Soon it was all over her, cloaking her.

Medina's face turned white as a sheet. Spoonie and the judge were concerned.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

There was no answer. The onlookers and the jury were mystified. They never witnessed anything of this magnitude before.

He repeated the question. There was still no response. Medina couldn't hear him or anyone else. Spoonie called out her name to no avail. Medina struggled to free herself. There was no use.

Maize was more worried than ever, afraid she was in a world that wasn't hers. Medina was trapped between a realm that preyed on the fears and weaknesses of others, where evil was waiting to take form.

A figure shrouded in black clothing strode toward her, the wicked laughter enclosing her.

"Medina. Don't be scared. I've been watching, waiting. You and your sister belong to me now." The shrouded figure said in a deep and raspy voice, taking a step further.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Medina bellowed.

"You belong to me now!" His tone was powerful and earth-shattering.

"I belong to no one!" She fought him off, and then ran further away.

"You can't escape me. You're mine." He said in a breathy murmur.

Medina wanted to get out of this ill-gotten place and never return. She had a strange feeling that the voice was none other than her biological father. _What does this mean?_ A small opening became visible. She made tracks toward it as it started to close. Then.....she let out a squeal that made everyone in the courthouse skin crawl. Another shriek followed. The judge and jurors took pity on her.

"Medina. Medina it's alright. You're safe now. You're safe." Spoonie soothed her

The lawyers were baffled. They wouldn't forget it as long as they lived.

"We'll reconvene tomorrow at 0900 hours. Court is adjourned." The judge concluded.

Medina fingered the seating in the back row. It was empty. The squirrely man had gone....and took her security along with him.

Was it a dream? Was it a hallucination? And if it was...no it had to be real. She thought.

It had depicted parts of what she knew deep down to be true. It was bound to resurface. The man that did the evil deed was still unclear, at least for now. Until the twins get their memory back. The squirrely man had a hand in it, that they were certain of, and one more. They were coerced to stand up against Maize.

They cleared the courtroom, one by one. Medina and Isabel ran to their prospective parents, who put on a show for everyone involved. Arms outstretched, they acted like the complete opposite of who they were.

Maize smiled and introduced himself, extracting his hand.

"I know who you are. Stay away from us." The mysterious woman said, scrunching her nose as she made a grand exit.

"That goes both ways. Isabel belongs to me. She's not daddy's little girl anymore. She's Donovan's little girl." The stocky man said, showing off his sardonic smile.

Maize took a step forward. His lawyer pushed him back, had an inkling what was going through his mind.

"You really want another assault charge? You're playing right into his hands." Spoonie whispered.

"Get out of here." Spoonie demanded, giving the stocky man an icy glare.

"I got something to do anyway, c'mon sweetheart." Donovan said.

He approached Maize and whispered in his ear.

"She's going to be my private dancer."

Donovan straightened his collar "And don't worry, this will be the best money she's ever made."

Fueled by rage, Maize walked out of the courthouse, determined not to give the sleazy businessman the satisfaction of getting under his skin.

"Was it something I said?" Donovan asked, slyly.

"Do you know that perjury is punishable by the state of Illinois? It's a very serious offense." Spoonie said, hoping to squeeze the truth out of her.

"Yes. I'm not lying." Medina said.

"Is it true that Alex Price killed your mother and told you to pin it on my client? You always went out of your way to please him, like a good little girl." Spoonie pressed.

"It's not true! He did it! He killed her! He did it! He killed her!" Medina said, repeatedly as if she was stark raving mad, motioned to the defendant.

"That's all your honor." He said, returning to his post.

"You may step down." Reassuringly, the judge said, swayed his head from side to side. He had seen it all.

Medina staggered out of the room and went back to that small crawl space that added a level of comfort.

The trial had attracted the media's attention. Everything she tried to keep hidden would be on WICS ABC20, where it would reach who knows how many people. She wanted to be invisible. To be left alone.

The reporters berated them with questions they weren't prepared to answer. The stocky man threatened the cameraman, and then shamelessly flirted with the female reporter.

"The defense calls Maize Blevins to the stand." He announced, pressed his hands firmly on the table.

# 16.

"Mr. Blevins, did you murder your fiancé'?" The prosecutor asked as she put her hands behind his back.

"No. I loved her and claimed those kids as my own. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life with her. I would never hurt her."Maize said.

"What kind of woman was she?" She asked.

"Amazing." Maize uttered.

"She was so amazing that she committed adultery right under your nose." She said.

"First love is hard to get over." Maize said.

"Is that all you have to say Mr. Blevins? What kind of a man are you? Weren't you angry?"

"I didn't know what was going on. It's like you said, it was right under my nose."

"So you claim."

"I know she put a stop to it."

"How do you know?"

"I know her. I'm not a violent man Ms Mills." Maize said with authority.

"But someone turned you into a violent man, didn't they? I think you're lying. I think you knew about the affair. You hated Alex Price and that he had a hold on her. You wanted to kill him. Zoe stopped you. You were so blinded by hurt and anger that you made believe she was Alex Price, and you did to her what you wanted to do with him." She replied.

"No, I'm innocent." Maize pleaded.

"Tell that to the blood on your hands. The prosecution rests."

"I remember when I fell in love with this country, and every single thing it stands for. I was proud to recite the pledge of allegiance. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. The operative words. Justice for all. If we let Mr. Blevins get by with just a slap on the wrist. The system fails. We fail. "She said, faced the jurors.

Spoonie smoothed out the suit and faced the people who held his friend's life in their hands. He had the kind of confidence that some people mistake as being cocky and was calm, cool and collected for the most part, tried to force himself to think of this as just another case.

"We've heard numerous testimonies. But the one that should stick out the most is my client's. He's no cold-blooded criminal. He's a victim. He's hurting the same way those children are hurting. Yes, his fingerprints were found on the murder weapons, I'm not denying that. But all the evidence that's presented before us has not been conclusive. He loved her. She loved him. He loved her kids. What was his motive? He knew nothing about the affair nor the baby. He was working late. Got a threatening phone call and rushed home to save his wife. But he was too late. His wife lay before him, an empty shell. If Mr. Blevins would have gotten there five minutes earlier, there would be two bodies instead of one. If you convict an innocent man, how will you sleep at night?"

Retracing steps, Spoonie wondered if the job was done to the best of his ability.

If the jurors were in favor of the prosecutor, he'd be held responsible. A great deal of weight was on his shoulders. This was his friend's life he was talking about and the fact that he was a perfectionist didn't help. Maize's fate was unclear.

The bailiff hauled Maize back to the holding cell. Spoonie went back to the think tank, presumably known as his corner office at Hamilton & Dunn.

Spoonie traipsed past a bunch of colleagues and interns, the troubled demeanor fitting him like a glove, then making brief eye contact with the receptionist.

"I don't want to be disturbed." Spoonie said, roughly. She nodded her head in agreement. Twisting the knob, Spoonie gained entry to his lavish office, and then shut the door.

He treaded aimlessly to the desk, swiveled back in the lounger, propped his feet up, hands behind his head as he recalled the trial... until the intercom banged in his head like a drum.

"I thought I told you I didn't want to be disturbed." He answered, annoyed.

"I figured this would be an exception sir." She replied, sweetly.

"What is it?" He asked, harshly.

* * * * * *

"Have you reached a verdict?" The judge asked.

"Yes your honor." The foreman replied.

"Will the defendants please rise?" The judge announced.

"What say you?"

"In murder in the first degree we the jury, find the defendant guilty."

A hush fell over the crowd. Maize hung his head. The prosecutor beamed.

"Maize Blevins, I sentence you to twenty-five years in a maximum security prison. This court is now adjourned." The judge thumped the gavel.

The prosecutor frowned. Spoonie smiled. It wasn't the verdict he was hoping for, however it was a lesser sentence than planned. He directed his attention to the woman, acknowledged her, then Maize. He would be a free man at the age of sixty-five.

"Thanks man." They shook hands.

"Wish I could've done more for you." Spoonie said, sincerely.

They indulged in one final bro hug before the bailiff put him in cuffs and carried him off to the holding cell.

Spoonie packed up the legal briefs and strolled to the door. As soon as he entered the lobby, reporters swarmed toward him, blocking his passage way and bombarding with questions.

"What's your opinion on the case?"

"Are you pleased with the decision?"

"Do you think you've done all you could for your friend?"

"Who killed Zoe Blevins?"

"What about the child? Do you think you're responsible for putting her in therapy?"

"No comment. Excuse me." He rarely cooperated with the press. This case had him disheveled. Maybe she can get the help she needs. He thought.

# 17.

March, 2010

It had been ten years since Medina laid eyes on her sister. She took up residence with a widow named Annalise, a barren woman who dreamt of having a child of her own someday. She was wise enough to know someday wouldn't come. She tried but couldn't carry them to term. Not really having a mother herself, she didn't know how to be one. She had no family, except for an old decrepit granny. The woman was highly qualified, for a reason Medina could not understand.

The so-called social worker wanted to get rid of them. He pawned them off on anyone he could. He didn't care for the kids he handled. He turned crooked, burnt out from the job, trading kids in for that almighty dollar. He got some kind of perverse pleasure from it.

She was forced to go to a new school, make friends and tolerate her existence.

They pulled up to a red brick building and sat in silence, the rambling engine overpowering their assessments.

Medina grabbed the backpack from the back seat, let out a quick "bye" and slammed the door inadvertently. She looked around, viewed the kids in their uniforms, the ones that didn't have a care in the world and who never knew heartache or tragedy. She took a deep breath and walked towards Dagwood High, the 3rd most prestigious in Chicago. Medina felt out of place. So much so, that she placed the hood over her head to shut out the rest of the world.

She heard the bell and trampled down the hall to her first class. Her feet felt like bricks, movement becoming slower and slower.

Medina opened the door to her first class. It slammed shut at an abnormal pace, triggering her to recall moments from her dark past—the gunman shooting Zoe twice in the head at close range—execution style.

"Can I help you?" The teacher asked.

Medina didn't say anything. She couldn't even move, just stood there paralyzed for a split second.

She shyly passed him the note.

"What a nut job." A classmate blurted out.

"Ah yes Medina. Take a seat in the back." The teacher said.

Medina treaded to the back row, enveloping in the metaphorical dark cloud──losing herself in the downpour. She slunk down and stared at the clock.

"This ain't much of a school if they let a freak show like you in here." Another kid uttered.

The peers followed suit, sneered whilst making knife stabbing and obscene gestures. The man who redefined the word teacher, turned away from the blackboard, leering at her tormentors "That is enough!" the words oozed out of his lips like a drill sergeant. They gasped. He returned to the board and began the lesson. They opened their books and quietly chanted. It was deemed unstoppable as the chorus swelled in numbers. The word "psycho" was carelessly thrown about like it had no meaning.

"Don't let them get to you. They're the REAL FREAKS. Mindless drones." The biracial girl said. She was half Black and Half Asian, wore a butterfly tattoo.

Jordyss had black hair with blue streaks. She was interesting and didn't conform like the rest. She was an outcast by choice.

"I know you. I've seen you around." Medina said.

"My reputation precedes me." Jordyss replied.

"Do you know what they're saying about you?" Medina asked, almost a whisper.

"No, what are they saying." Jordyss said, slyly.

"You set your old school on fire." Medina said.

"Those are vicious rumors. I wouldn't harm a fly." She confirmed, shot a spitball at the leader of the drones. The dribble landed on his neck. The impact was enough to stir him around in the cold wooden seat. They locked eyes, her white hot stare smoldering in and out of his core as an awkward silence happened between them. In a split second the fear escaped him, and then went back to his studies. Medina chuckled, smiled. She hadn't done that in a long time and had no reason to. The grin diminished remindful of the dilemma she had to brave. Isabel. Was she ok? Was she hurt? What kind of authority figure was she stuck with?

Medina didn't know much about him except his name. It wasn't much to go on but it was a start. She couldn't begin again without her twin. She felt lost without her.

"Did someone kill your cat or something?" Jordyss asked, stoically.

"It's my sister. I don't know where she is. I have to get her back." She said.

"Illinois department of children and family services, how may I direct your call?" A delicate voice answered.

"Where can I find Phil Saxton? I need to speak with him now!" Jordyss insisted, impersonating the potbellied overseer. Medina listened in.

"He's at the club sir. Do you want me to call him for ya?" The man asked, excitedly.

"Uh, no, no I'll go down there myself. What's the name?" Jordyss asked, strongly.

"Donovan's Titty Bar sir." The man said with ease.

"It's a topless bar right?"

"Yes sir. Isabel's working late tonight." The man said, barked like a dog.

* * * * * *

Donovan forced himself on her, robbing her of her virginity. Isabel felt the tears drop from her eyes. She had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time. He was the kind of man who took what he wanted. And if you put up a fight, he would give you a solid thrashing. He was a self-made man, built the club from the ground up. The environment wasn't solid, nor was it stable.

Donovan used the corrupt social workers to his benefit. He had a partnership with Saxton. Saxton would bring him the girls and in exchange Donovan gave him a piece of the empire.

Donovan attacked her on a regular basis. He told her she was his to do with as he pleased and if she disagreed he would give her a reminder to make sure she would never forget. Her living situation turned into a nightmare. Isabel had her vices to dull the pain, just like her father.

"I wanna go home." Isabel said, slipped on her clothes.

"You ARE home. I'm your family now. You remember that." Donovan said, grabbing her face, nostrils flaring.

Isabel treaded to the bathroom, looked in the mirror. She had a black eye and the cut on her lip.

Isabel wasn't the person she used to be. It was a blur to her now. She was a woman but not the woman she desired to be.

"Showtime ladies! Let's go, move your asses!" Donovan commanded, eyed her sternly, and paused.

"Issy, what do you think you're doing?" Donovan asked.

"I'm not going out there." Isabel was firm.

"Can you excuse us? I need to talk to her, alone." He chuckled.

They left. Isabel was anxious. His emotions were on and off like a light switch.

"Why not?" He fiddled with the ring on his forefinger

"I don't want to. I'm tired." Isabel stammered.

Donovan locked the door, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the window. With one meaty hand, he raised it up, dangled Isabel outside until she agreed. Minutes later, she was shoved back in.

"Let me tell you what you're gonna do. You're gonna go in there and shake your ass like a good little girl. Clean yourself up. You're on in ten."

"Don't cry. Don't cry." Donovan said, leaving the dressing room.

The reverberation of the slamming door clanged in her ears. Retouching her makeup, she opened a small drawer. Inside was a small canister of cocaine. She gazed at it. Isabel unbolted it, streamed a small amount on the table. She extracted a fifty dollar bill from her purse, rolled it up and snorted half of it. When it hit her, Isabel was on top of the world again. She was untouchable, uninhibited. Free.

# 18.

Medina waltzed into the club. The stench of sex perfused the atmosphere.

The women slid up and down the poles like a pro. Others were offering lap dances or a private dance. The place was packed with drooling men, money burning a hole in their pockets. Daniel De Bourg's "Mind Over Matter" played over the loud speakers, drowning out the rest of the patrons. She reviewed every inch of the establishment. Her eyes settled on the bar, she leaned against it.

"You want something honey?" The bartender asked.

"I'm looking for someone." Medina said.

"Everybody's looking for someone honey. What's your type? Blonde, Bru--"

"Brunette." Medina interrupted.

"What's her name doll?"

"Isabel." Medina said.

"The main attraction." She motioned to stage left.

Isabel gyrated on the pole. On the stage she was someone else. Men threw money at her and she loved every minute of it or she pretended to. She yearned for their attention. They were going crazy for her. They all wanted her.

Medina moved closer. One of the customers grabbed her leg. She tried to break free. The man tightened the grip and pulled, and then his friends joined in. She could feel herself slipping.

Eyeing the serving tray, Medina cleared it and flung it at him with full force. The metallic tray hit his neck. They released her on impact. The music stopped and Medina glared at them. Donovan came out, throwing his weight around.

"I don't ever want to see you or your friends in this bar again! Get him outta here."

His friends carried him out. Isabel walked offstage, embarrassed.

"Who the hell are you?" Donovan barked.

Medina walked to the dressing room and tapped her knuckles against the unlocked door.

"Come in." Isabel said, paused.

"Hey, it's good to see you. You should've told me you were coming." Isabel embraced her, awkwardly.

"Is that all you have to say?" Medina asked.

"Did you enjoy the show?" She changed the subject, freshening up.

"You don't have anything else to say to me? We haven't seen each other since..." Medina trailed off.

There it was, their first awkward silence, two minutes before Donovan busted in wearing those five hundred dollar shirts he was famous for.

"Get your ass back out there! I paid good money for you!"

"This was her last set." Medina said, a dead serious look on her face.

"Last set my ass! See I own her, don't I sweetheart? And she ain't done until I say she's done. "He said, roughing her up.

Medina pulled out the fully loaded revolver, a farewell gift from Annalise. With it, she became the judge, jury and executioner. A peep from the cocked gun stopped him cold. She saw him as nothing, disregarding his human life.

"I don't want any trouble. I just want what she owes me." He grabbed her, pulling her closer.

"Let her go." Medina said.

"Or what?" He said, calling her bluff, laughing devilishly.

Medina's hands quivered.

"Do it! Do it!" Donovan demanded.

Isabel shook her head as Medina placed her fingers on the trigger, gripping it _. Nobody would miss him._ _I never killed anyone before_. _But killing him would_ _be like killing a rat than a human being._

"Do It!"

The gun went off in Medina's hand. Two bullets penetrated his chest. Donovan collapsed. Isabel cried over his body like a lost puppy, tears of anger and sadness in her eyes. Medina heaved her off him. They walked out, Price's heart beating faster than normal which left her on edge. She's never committed a murder.

In the common area, the crowd's eyes were fixated on them, horrified at what they just heard. The bartender was on the phone to the police. Seconds later, she felt the cold steel of Price's handgun to her temple. Fearing for her life, the bartender dropped the phone and put her hands up. Medina slowly advanced to the door, aiming the gun on anyone who dared to make a move. The crowd was still like a statue, too scared to say anything or make noise. Once they got outside they made a run for it but they didn't get very far before their consequences caught up to them. They realized it was too late when they witnessed three police cars drive up. The cops considered it a hostage situation. The majority of them were on Donovan's pay roll.

They were surrounded.

The twins mimicked each other's movements, fearful out of their wits. The twins didn't want this to dictate their near future. They didn't know what to do. The odds of them making it out alive were improbable.

"Drop the weapon and put your hands behind your head!" An officer called out, pointing their weapons, ready to fire if necessary.

Price quietly cocked the pistol and executed a round without hesitation. She reloaded; treating the firearm like it was her religion, killing officers in her path; the cold steel against her fingertips, the power it emulated calling out to her. She was a natural. She dropped her weapon of death, scouting for Isabel. A deeply wounded cop rose up and managed to get a few shots in before his demise.

Medina saw the pellets as they came toward her, piercing her flawless mahogany skin. It was inevitable. She thought, as she went down like a soldier in the middle of war. Isabel screamed"Noooo!

Isabel rushed to her immobile body. She closed her eyes as the tears came pouring down her face.

"Medina? Medina? Medina?!" Isabel cried out.

Medina saw a vague reflection of her. It started to drift further and further away.

"Don't die on me." Isabel pleaded.

Extricating a cloth-like fabric from her bosom, Isabel wiped the fingerprints off the gun. She then placed it in the wounded officer's hand, along with the casings and re-arranged the bodies to make the scenario look like self defense.

# 19.

Isabel dragged Medina's lifeless body to an abandoned police car, leaving a string of blood behind. Isabel refused to believe she was a goner but Medina had a weak pulse. She then helped her to the passenger seat. When Isabel turned around, she was in for more than just a rude awakening. She was in the face of the enemy, a female officer, responding to a call for backup. She was a bunt-out cop with a nasty attitude. She was too far gone to be what she once was.

Like so many officers before her, she had lost sight on what was good and pure.

"Where do you think you're going? Put your hands behind your head and spread 'em. Do it!" She said.

"My sister is bleeding to death. Please." Isabel begged.

The female cop merely glanced at the passenger seat, couldn't care less if Medina's life hung on by a thread.

"She's already dead." She said, cruelly.

"I don't believe you." Isabel said.

"You're coming with me." She said, extracting the cuffs from the utility belt.

"No I can't leave her. You don't understand." Isabel said.

Just before the woman cuffed her, Darius attacked her from behind; chopping the carotid artery on her neck. A martial arts move he learned as a young boy. The officer dropped to the floor, barely breathing. Isabel faced him.

"Who are you?" Isabel asked.

"I'm your father." He said.

"Alex Price is our father." Isabel said with gumption.

"Alex Price is a joke" Darius replied.

"Where did you come from?" Isabel asked.

"She doesn't have much time left. We should take her to the hospital now or do you want to plan another funeral?" A stern Darius said.

Putting her in the grave wasn't an option for Isabel. She blamed herself for the madness that occurred and would do whatever she could to save her, a life for a life.

"Fight. Fight." Isabel said, peering through the window, tear stained face; walking on pins and needles.

The doctor pressed the defibrillator adjacent to her chest, giving another jolt of electrodes. With every jolt, Isabel bit her nails.

"Clear!" He decreed.

They gazed at the heart rate monitor, hoping for a change but there was nothing, but a long beeping noise.

"Clear!" He continued. This time he put it on full impact. They clenched their teeth in anticipation of what would come; to the point of exertion.

"She's lucky to be alive, thought we lost her for a minute there." He said.

"How long will she be comatose?"Darius asked.

"It's hard to say, a month or two, maybe more." He said.

"When can we see her?" Isabel asked.

"Right now, but keep it short. She needs her rest." He said.

"Thanks Doctor." Isabel concluded.

The resident doctor walked away to tend to other patients.

Isabel went in first, reflected on the trials and tribulations they put up with. She questioned if it was officially over, and then caught a glimpse of what Medina had been reduced to.

"I know you can't hear me, I'll try anyway. I don't want to lose you. You're all I got left. You're my family. You always thought I was the strong one but you were wrong. There's a reason why you're daddy's favorite. We're survivors remember? We got a lot of catching up to do" Isabel said, clasping her hand.

"Hey, you don't know me but I'm an old friend of your mother's. Actually we used to date. You remind me so much of her. I wanted to be a father but she took that choice from me. I wanted to kill her. I heard someone beat me to it. Wish I was there to see it. You gotta wake up."Darius said, leering at her.

Darius retreated to the waiting room completely drained, like his world was somehow non-existent. The wind was knocked out of him.

Darius tinkered with the snack machine, not really wanting much, just a quick a distraction to defer his attention from the situation at hand.

Isabel scrutinized him closely. She didn't trust him.

They were one big ball of nerves, sitting on the edge of their seats.

Isabel had spent an hour in the prayer room whereas he awaited the results of the DNA test.

"You want anything?" Darius asked,

"No." Isabel replied.

"Suit yourself." Darius said, walking to the cafeteria.

"Mr. Greigh." The doctor called.

"Yes?" Darius froze.

"Can I speak to you privately?" He asked.

"I'll check on Dina." Isabel chimed in, headed to the room.

"I've got some good news and bad news. You're the father of one child. Isabel's DNA wasn't a match.

"Do me a favor, let's keep this between us. I can't let her go back in the system." He studied Medina, then the twin.

"You love her." He assumed.

"No, I love my daughter. I care about her happiness." He replied, meeting Isabel's stare.

Truth be told, I could care less what happens to her or her trampy sister. I'm after something much bigger. Zoe setup a trust and I intend to collect on her 20th birthday. He thought.

The room was silent except for the incessant beeping of the ECG monitor. The beats were finally steady.

Isabel slept by her beside as she did most nights. She refused to go. She didn't have a home to go back to.

Isabel discerned a draft, draping the blanket over her. She reminisced about the fond memories they had as kids and got lost in them while closing her eyes and drifting off.......

Medina's fingers started to move.

# 20.

Checking on her, a male nurse discovered the condition had improved, after making the night rounds.

"Doctor!! Doctor!" the nurse exclaimed.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked, flashing a light in her eyes.

"Like I just had been shot." Medina said.

"Well you haven't lost your sense of humor." The doctor smiled.

"When can she leave?" Darius blurted out.

The doctor looked at him like he was speaking gibberish.

"Leave? You just got her back. She needs to stay here for a week, at the most. Before I forget, there's an officer here to speak with you." The doctor said, checking her vitals.

A rookie officer stepped in. Medina eyed the firearm in the holster, then him.

He walked with a purpose.

"I'll be right outside if you need me." She said, closed the door behind her.

"What can I do for you officer?" Medina asked.

"Three of my men were gunned down in front of Donovan's Titty Bar two days ago." He said.

"What does this have to do with me?" Medina asked.

"The bartender identified you as the shooter." The officer said.

"That's not possible. I was spending time with my father." Medina said.

"Is that true?" The officer asked, looking at Darius.

She merely begged Darius to corroborate the story. He nodded his head.

"Those look like gunshot wounds, how did you get them?" He leaned in closer to view her chest.

"I have many enemies officer." She lied.

"That's all, for now." The rookie said, puzzled.

He needed answers and she was the only one to give them. The cop wasn't finished. Not by a long shot.

Either he would force her to take a polygraph or squeeze the truth out. One way or another, he would get to the bottom of it.

"He's gone."Isabel said.

They all breathed a sigh of relief. Then Medina realized how steadfast he seemed.

"He'll be back. You heard him." Medina said.

"Your fingerprints on the weapon." Darius added.

'The officer's, not mine." Medina said.

"What makes you so invincible?" Darius asked, playing coy.

"I was born with a rare disease. Aderma--" Medina said.

"Toglyphia." Darius finished the sentence.

Holding up the palm of his hand, he showed her where it originated from. It was uncanny. It couldn't be a coincidence.

* * * * * * * *

Henry awoke from his slumber and ventured outside the partially woven house. He looked at the palm trees, chalk-white beaches and crystal clear water, far from the mainland. He was in paradise and marveled at its beauty. Eternal bliss is what he called it.

He was a different person, scruffy-looking. Bulging biceps as well as a deep tan he had no qualms showing off.

When landed, Henry ditched his cell phone, burned his old clothes and kept the endowment. Taking a hiatus for more than a few months made him a new man. Henry married an Indian woman and they had a son. She knew nothing about his past, which is the way he wanted to keep it. He wouldn't tell her even if she asked. It was a secret he didn't want out.

Henry thought of Medina often. Even if she wasn't flesh and blood, she had a flare about her that was hard to shake.

As far as Henry was concerned, he didn't have any and considered them expendable like their mother. They were dead to him. Like insects crawling on the ground instead of people he cherished. He had lived a double life. Price was the family man who loved the twins with every part of him. Vada simply tolerated them. He played a part, a role more or less.

No one knew why he created a fake persona. He considered it to be in the grave along with the rest of his secrets.

Henry only told people he trusted where he would end up. People he could rely on. He carried a little insurance just in case things went sour.

Henry was deep in thought when he felt the vibration of her fingertips tracing down his forearm, and then his hand. She probed his palm, then the fingers.

They were flat, the same as Medina's. Henry jerked his hand back.

* * * * * * * *

Three months had passed.

The twins were homeless. Their daily routine consisted of looking for food and shelter. Missing posters with Medina's face were plastered everywhere. Weary that they would be put back in the system, they persuaded Jordyss to book them a flight to their hometown.

Jordyss wasn't your run-of-the-mill rich girl. She was into punk rock, tattoos and piercings, all that was anti-girly.

She and Medina had gotten quite close over the school year. They went far and wide together. She was a second sister to her.

Jordyss confiscated her father's credit card and purchased two one-way tickets to The City.

"Stay safe ok." Jordyss said.

"Yeah." Medina agreed.

Medina and Isabel boarded the plane, watched her out the window.

The door sealed up. The air traffic controller cleared the aircraft for takeoff.

They were going back to where it all started. They missed it, the smell and the friends from the neighborhood. Although the feeling of not having any prospects overwhelmed them, they were glad to be back in their birthplace.

They hailed a taxi. The first stop was their old place. It hadn't changed. It was how they left it. Isabel buzzed the doorbell. An older woman responded, cigarette in her mouth, twelve months pregnant and cussing like a sailor to her boyfriend.

"Beat it kid. What are ya deaf? I said scram!" She exclaimed.

"We used to live here. We just want to come in." Medina said.

The woman slammed the door in their face.

Medina and Isabel had lived in an old warehouse for a year. It was their shelter. Stealing money from those more fortunate was their survival. They had gotten rather good at it. They knew which houses to hit. Some of them had jewels, which they pawned for easy cash. The twins took what they needed, although Isabel wanted to take more. She was envious of them, their lifestyle.

The twins crashed a high society party. The back entrance was unguarded for a reason that was unbeknownst to them. They walked further and found themselves surrounded by jewelry.

"Why should they get everything when I got nothing? She thought, loading up a bag with jewelry.

"What are you doing?" Darius asked, crept up behind them.

Medina jumped up, startled.

"How'd you get in here?" Another question they weren't prepared to answer.

They were silent, adding to his annoyance.

A knock broke their dead stare.

"Darius are you in there?" A husky voice asked.

"I'll be there in a minute." He replied, holding him off.

"Be sure you do." The husky voice said.

Darius waited for him to leave before he said another word.

"You could get arrested for this." He darted eyes at them.

"We didn't choose this life. It chose us." Medina said,

"That's what every criminal says." Darius replied.

Surveying Medina's rage, he removed his coat and draped it over her,

"We're going home." He said.

He left the shindig. The twins met him at the back door.

# 21.

You're so beautiful. Darius thought, gazing at Issy's sleeping face like an animal stalking its prey.

The door closed. The bedroom was coal-black.

"Dina?" Issy woke up, eyes bulging out of the sockets.

A dark figure approached.

"Who's there?" She cried out.

No answer followed.

The figure came closer, forcing himself on top. She smelled the hard liquor on his breath.

"No, stop! Darius Get off of me! Get off me!" Her eyes welled up, struggling.

"You know you want it." He said, ripping her panties, shoving his member inside her.

Isabel froze up like a statue, stared blankly at the wall, tears spilling down her cheek —a red-hot sensation betwixt her thighs—the plasma seeping out of her vagina. She fainted from the blinding pain.

"You loved it, every minute of it. Girls like you always do." Darius said, zipped up his pants and walked out.

Isabel was in the fetal position, and then jumped in the shower, vigorously scrubbing her skin with a sponge. She felt dirtier than she'd ever been. The more she pictured it, she scrubbed even harder. She didn't have the heart to tell Medina.

It was his word against hers. Who would believe me? She thought.

On her ninth birthday, Isabel quit school and got a job at The Black Tiger, a gentlemen's club in Brooklyn.

She tried escaping the lifestyle that was forced upon her but was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She needed fast money and a way out from the abuse buried deep inside her. Isabel was making a thousand a night and relished the attention she got from men.

She was displayed as a piece of meat. The light that shined in her eyes started to fade. The universe had dealt her a bad hand and now she was just another statistic.

Onstage, she was fearless.

Once the music played, there was no stopping her. Men cheering her on, stuffing folded bills in her underwear. It was a usual night.

"I'd like to tap that." Man #1 licked his lips, eyes fixated on her.

"She's sexy as hell. Aye sweetheart, go out with me." Man#2 said.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Isabel said.

"How much will it take for you to say yes to me?" Man#1 threw a 100 dollar bill at her. He paused.

"I'll make it rain on ya." He tossed another hundred, then another, then another, then another.

"I'm not for sale." She said.

"My apologizes, classy lady." He said.

She glided on the pole, legs spread and in the air. A thunderous round of applause infused the strip club. Isabel departed and shut the curtains.

Isabel extracted the keys from her purse and strolled to the car. She was alone until an admirer came up to her.

"Enjoyed your show." The short man said, sucking on a toothpick.

"Thanks." Isabel said.

"I got a job for you." The short man replied.

"I don't do that anymore." Isabel lied, opening the car door.

Two men came out of the shadows and cornered her.

"You're still a hoe. A hoe never stops being a hoe." The tall man in a hat joined in.

"I spent a lot of money on you. What do I get for my service?" The short man said, grabbing her face.

"Let me go. Now! " Isabel demanded.

"You heard her, let her go." The leader ordered.

The three men backed away. As Isabel looked away, the short man hit her head against the rear of the car and then the three men wailed on her before she had a chance to attack. The leader placed a hand over her mouth. No one could hear her scream. She couldn't believe this was happening again.

They tore her blouse and slid the panties down around her ankles. They raped her. First was the leader and then his friends. Isabel was in and out of consciousness and vaguely saw their faces as they ejaculated inside her.

"You ain't nothing." The short man said, disgusted.

"Is she dead?" The slim man asked.

"She will be. You're way overpriced." He replied, looking at her like she was trash.

The short man doused her with gasoline and withdrew a lighter. He felt he was doing a service to the community by ridding it of human waste.

"What are you doing?" The slim man asked.

"Cleaning up." The short man said, firmly

"You've gone too far this time." The slim man replied, snatched it from his hand.

The short man swung at him and took back the lighter.

"You can never go too far."

Suddenly they broke out in a fight. The slim man tackled him. He had finally grew tired of his antics and felt guilty for every one of their dirty deeds. He wasn't afraid of him anymore. Just as he moved toward Isabel's body, the short man engulfed her body in flames and then pummeled him to the ground.

"Stop it man you're going to kill em!" The tall man exclaimed.

"Get ya own ride home old yella, fucking pussy!" The short man said, spit on the ground. They hopped in the car and sped off, leaving them behind in the dust.

The slim man got up, put one hand over the busted rib and trudged to her scorched body. He extracted his coat and shielded her body, then watched the flames die out. He reached for her purse, retrieved her cell and called for help.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"She has burns all over her body."

"May I have your name please?"

"Todd.

"Todd, does she have a pulse?"

"I don't know."

# 22.

The doctor's prognosis; Isabel wouldn't survive during the night. She was severely burned and badly beaten.

The nurse rifled through Isabel's purse in search of identification. She found Medina's number and called her immediately.

"Isabel Kraygen?" Price asked, heart thumping.

"She's in ICU, room 206." The receptionist said.

Price scurried to the elevator, pushed the second floor button, and then flew past the hospital staff to the room where a seasoned Lieutenant was questioning Isabel. Half of her body was wrapped in gauze. Price listened outside.

"Tell me what happened?" The lieutenant asked.

"I just finished my set. I work at The Black Tiger."

The middle–aged man scribbled on his notepad.

"You think I deserve this don't you?" Isabel asked, cold stare.

"What happened next?" The lieutenant changed the subject.

"I was in the parking lot and three guys cornered me. They beat me up and forced themselves on me." Isabel said.

"Have you seen them before?" The lieutenant asked.

"No." Isabel said.

"Would you recognize em if you saw them again?" The lieutenant asked.

"Their faces are burned into my skull." Isabel replied.

"That's all for now." The lieutenant said.

"That's it?" Isabel inquired.

"We got the DNA samples from the rape kit to analyze. Oh and one of the guys saved your life. We have him in custody. These creeps rarely have a conscience. Call me if you need anything else." He said, turning the knob.

"What happens to him?" Isabel asked.

"If he cooperates and turns the rest of them in, he'll get a reduced sentence...I'll be seeing ya." Sticking a cigarette in his mouth, he lit a match.

She was mesmerized by the flame. The middle-aged man lit up, blew out the fire from the match, and then made a quick exit.

Outside, Price hid around the corner.

"Lieutenant." Price cried out.

The middle-aged man halted.

"What can I do for you?" He asked, the cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"My name is Medina Price. I'm her sister."

"And?" The lieutenant asked.

"Her car was stolen. The person who did it might be involved."

"Nonsense, it was a three-man job. They worked her over pretty good too." The lieutenant took a long drag from the cigarette.

"I need you to put an ATL out on her car." Medina said.

"It's probably being sold for parts by now." The lieutenant replied.

"What if it was your family?" Medina asked.

"I never met 'em and you're wasting my time." The lieutenant finished his nicotine fix for the day, squished it with his shoe.

"But--"

"I'm sorry Price; it's out of my hands." The lieutenant interrupted.

The middle-aged man turned around, walked in the opposite direction. His pace escalating from slow to fast.

"How are you holding up?" Price asked.

"I'm still alive." Isabel said.

"You didn't deserve this." Price replied.

"Maybe I did." Isabel said, feeling like she was nothing.

"No--"

"How was Annalise? Was she kind?" Isabel interjected.

"Yes."Medina said.

"He used to be kind. You may not understand this, but on some level I loved him. I loved it. It's amazing what you can get used to when it's all you know."

"Issy--"

"I never thanked you for coming to get me."

"You would've done the same for me."

Seeing Isabel's weakened state almost broke her. Her fiery vexation burned brighter than the sun. She blamed Phil Saxton and blamed the system.

Isabel was lost and she didn't know how to pull her back from the brink.

The doctor slowly removed the gauze, taking off every little piece until there was none. He looked at her partially burnt face in the mirror and gasped at the sight of it. Her face was everything to her and it was gone. Isabel averted her eyes. She didn't want to go through life being a monster, a freak. She was emotionless. There were no more tears to cry. No anger, nothing. They broke her.

An experience like that had a tendency to change you for the worse and that was where she was headed.

When Isabel became well enough, she went down to the police station to make a positive ID. Medina came for moral support.

The lieutenant greeted them and put them in a closed off room, placed a photo montage in front of Isabel. The twins studied the faces very closely as if they could see the criminal's worst fears.

"Take your time." The lieutenant reassured her.

Isabel pointed to the pictures on the far left and described them in vivid detail.

"It was them." Isabel said, motioned.

"Are you sure?"The lieutenant asked.

"Yes" Isabel said.

"Okay. Thanks for coming down. You're real brave." The lieutenant said.

"Funny, I don't feel brave."

"Do you know how many women don't press charges because their scared? These two men will be going away for a long time, thanks to you."

Isabel never forgot what happened, still had reoccurring visions of it. What made it worse was there were no witnesses.

They ruined her. She could've made something out of herself. She had the power to be what she wanted. But it was too late for her. The world had chewed her up and spit her out.

# 23.

Medina wanted justice for those that had suffered, for her. She wasn't going to rest until she got it and no prison sentence was going to satisfy her.

"I don't want any part of this." Ava said, uneasy.

"Duly noted, you're still going to help me right?" Medina asked.

"If this comes back to me, I'll be kicked out of the precinct and thrown in jail." Ava said.

"It won't."Medina said, assuring.

Ava was a Detective aiming to make her own way in a man's world. She hated men, although she had to put on a facade in front of her colleagues.

Much to her surprise, Medina didn't have to do much persuading.

The arraignment was at 0800. Medina was prepped and waiting in the DOC truck.

"I have no respect for people who think they're above the law. Up until now you've been lucky. Your victims were too scared to come forward, but not this time. This time you're gonna pay with your lives, without the possibility of parole." The judge decreed, banged the gavel.

"Get this trash out of my sight." The judge added.

The judge ordered them to pay Isabel's hospital bills and thirty thousand dollars in restitution.

The officer cuffed them and led them to the truck where Price awaited their presence. She was disguised as a Corrections Officer. Price had on a matching cap that concealed her face.

They climbed in the back. Staring at their faces in the rearview mirror made her more furious. _They won't know what they did to her._

"What are you gawking at?" The short man said.

"Nothing." Price replied.

"You look familiar." The tall man said.

A male guard hopped in the passenger seat. Price plunged the key in the ignition, rammed the engine as hard as it would allow and took off,

"Maybe I should drive." The guard said.

Price ignored her.

"Where are you taking us?" The tall man said.

"Shut up convict." Price said.

"You passed the off ramp. This isn't the way. Where the hell are you going?" The guard asked.

Price extracted the pistol strapped under the seat and put a bullet in his head. The prisoners were nervous. Price squinted her eyes at them.

Price parked in a cold dark place across from a ditch.

"Get out, now. Move it!" Medina said, aiming the revolver.

"Okay. Calm down." The short man said.

"You don't talk." Medina said, pressing the gun against his temple.

The two men walked along the unknown path at her command.

"Who are you?" The short man said.

"What do you want from us?" The tall man chimed in.

"Satisfaction." Price pulled the trigger. Blood and brains were splattered all over the road. The tall man fled. Price shot him in the back, then got the gas can from the truck and poured it over the bodies. She dropped the lighter and watched them burn. That's for Issy, and for what we both lost. She thought.

Price swapped the license plates, and then hurled the DOC truck underwater with the fatalities inside.

Isabel attached the rope to the window casing and placed the noose around her neck, then clambered up the wooden chair to the top; pretended she was scaling a mountain.

Isabel's life aspiration was to be greater than her parents. Unfortunately she didn't get a choice. It was stolen from her.

The voices in her head were overwhelming. She couldn't take it anymore.

Suddenly the chair burst into thirds.

Isabel's dangling body was still...

Her stomach was slit open and the guts were spewing out.

Upon opening the door, Price shrieked with terror in her eyes. She didn't expect to see what she saw. Price became hysterical. _Why!_ The temptation to pull out her eyes from the sockets was too great.

To die in such a way is abominable. It was too much. Price felt alone and like someone had ripped her heart out of her chest.

It had been them against the world, now it was just her.

She stared at her monstrous face as mascara ran down her cheeks. It left her breathless.

In hindsight, Isabel was consistently envious of Medina and of her life. She would give anything to trade places and lead the life she wanted.

Isabel's suicide wasn't her own. She had help to push her off the proverbial cliff. Price blamed the two men in the DOC truck, Phil Saxton and every other corrupt social worker in the city.

Most importantly she blamed the man was responsible for all their heartache; the gunman that started it all—the squirrely man that had watched their every move. Price had regained her memory and it was their miscue in which this happened. It would be their cross to bear.

Price looked at Isabel again. Her eyes gave the illusion that she was being watched. _I have no one left. She's a fucking coward._

Isabel wanted to die.

But she still had unfinished business.....

Price would soon face the unexplainable.

An enormous flash of light came over her. Price looked in the mirror, got hold of a knife and made a wide slit in the middle of her stomach. She swathed the noose around her neck and mounted the chair as men's voices vibrated over and over in her head.

_You're still a hoe. A hoe never stops being a hoe. You ain't nothing. Is she dead? She will be._

Price felt dead inside.

The chair gave way and snapped in three different places. Price could feel the noose strangling her tighter and tighter. She gasped for air...

Isabel's angelic eyes ran across her mind, thereby ending the horrid reenactment.

# 24.

Price lay on the floor coughing, getting her bearings.

She knew it was far from over as a single hot tear coursed from her cheek. Price felt everything that was buried deep inside Isabel. The pain was too unbearable to overcome.

Price passed out...

Isabel's spirit left her body and stared down at her. The spirit came closer and closer...

Price recovered and had no recollection of what took place. She chalked it up to her lack of sleep. Price hadn't slept since her sister was in the hospital. She got a whiff of her perfume and gazed at the casing to find Isabel's stock-still corpse mocking her. _It's all in my head. It has to be._

Price shut her eyes, then returned her gaze...

Isabel's carcass was gone...

* * * * * * * * *

"One more drink man, c'mon." Darius begged.

"You're cut off." The bartender was firm.

"Help a brother out." Darius pushed.

"You're not my brother. Do yourself a favor and sleep it off." The bartender said.

Darius swallowed the last drop from the glass and heaved it at the man's head. The bartender ducked. The glass shattered the mirror behind him.

Annoyed, he kicked him out of the tavern and chucked his keys in the gutter as a small form of payback.

Darius trudged in the humble abode, fumbled upstairs to the twin's room. The room was silent and Price was sound asleep.

Darius grabbed her by the hair and kissed her. Price kissed him back.

"Issy." Darius said.

"Issy's dead." She said, aimed the revolver at his testicles and opened fire.

Price wanted to bathe in his blood. A sadistic grin highlighted her face which made Darius mortified. Price shot him in the chest.

"What, you don't recognize me?" She asked, watched him struggle until the end.

She reveled in it, called it saving another girl's life. The power she had in her hands was hard to resist.

Darius wasn't worthy of forgiveness. In her eyes he deserved to die.

The last minute leading up to his demise, Darius saw her grainy looking face and dark and ominous eyes. It was as if she was possessed.

Price got a damp rag and cleared the blood from her brown skin. She smiled.

# 25.

February, 2012

Price was enlisted in Rockland County Police Academy two weeks after her twin's brutal death. She wanted to join the law enforcement like her mother and dreadfully wanted to forget her past. It was a matter of survival for her. She reflected on Isabel.

Isabel wanted freedom so bad yet she didn't live long enough to enjoy it. As much as Price denied it, she carried the burden with her.

Mimicking the officers in training, Price aimed the rifle at the target and emptied the clip. Price was adamant about being the best in the class and making it for Isabel as well as herself.

"All guts, and none of the glory." Jordyss said over her shoulder.

"Jordyss? What are you doing here?" Medina asked.

"My father got transferred. Figured I'd enlist. Where's your other half?" Jordyss asked.

Medina lowered the weapon and looked at her barrenly.

"She's extinct." Medina said, revisiting the post.

"Don't act like a stone wall; I know Issy was important to you." Jordyss said.

"Now she's six feet under. We're all dying. It was just her time." Medina reloaded the rifle.

Price's disposition had changed overnight. Her cold and distant behavior had Jordyss mystified.

"Don't you miss her?" Jordyss asked.

"Shoot first, talk later." The instructor glared.

"She's better off. She was born to die." Price blasted away.

"What happened to the girl I used to know?" Jordyss asked.

"She got smart...and realized this world didn't belong to her anymore."

February 10, 2012

"Blevins, you got a visitor." The guard barked, opened the cell.

Maize shuffled down the dreary halls, looked at what his life had come to. He had a lot of time to think, about Zoe and the gruesome murder. About the man who took away his bride. Maize mourned her death every day of every passing hour, of every minute he was locked up. He wondered if the real killer was still out there and if he took another life. Who he was and why he did it. Maize obsessed over him night after night. Imagined what he looked like and what kind of man he was. What kind of life he lived and if he had a family.

Maize sat in front of her, eyes wandering for a bit.

One word entered his mind. Zoe. He tried to forget about her. Price bore a strong likeness that didn't help the cause.

Price studied his face.

Maize had a certain look in his eyes: A look of a man who had everything and had it taken away, a man who was still strong and not easily broken.

I miss him. She thought.

Maize didn't get a lot of visitors, except for his best friend. He hoped that Simeon would visit him but his ex kept him on a short leash.

Price picked up the receiver and managed to get out her first words.

"Hi, how are you?"

"As good as an innocent man can be."

"I'm sorry for testifying against you."

"I don't blame you. It's not your fault I'm in here."

"Yes it is."

"You were just a kid then. You were scared. An experience like that is liable to do that to do."

"I know who killed her. I remember everything now. He threatened me not to say anything but I can't keep this inside any longer."

"Good. Tell the police everything you know."

_He still believes in the system. It's adorable. There's some sort of blind ignorance in it._ Price smirked, almost chuckled at his proposal.

"The police? What have they done for us? Do you think they care about us?"

"It's the right thing to do."

"Keep telling yourself that, maybe you'll start to believe it."

"Don't do anything stupid."

"It would be stupid if I didn't retaliate. I want him to know what it's like to lose everything. I want him to suffer."

"Is it worth going to jail for? It won't bring her back. What does Isabel have to say about all this?"

"Isabel's dead." Price said, retrieved her phone, and shoved it against the glass.

Inside was a recent picture of Isabel. Price captured her suicide beautifully.

Maize was speechless as he eyed every gory detail. He then turned away in disgust.

"Guard." He called.

The corrections officer came in and escorted him back to the jail cell. Price walked out of the building, she walked with authority and without a care in the world. The change in her was apparent. She couldn't wait to strike fear in the hearts of her soon to be sufferers; she had waited long enough already. Price got in her car, gave it a little gas, and headed straight for the airport.

Medina set foot in JFK, scoped out the airport, carrying two suitcases marked with clothes and half of her trust fund. Its intended use was for college tuition. Zoe had high hopes for her. Quiet as it's kept; she didn't fit the criteria, if Medina was a different person and had a normal childhood things would've been different. She used to pretend the universe was playing a cruel joke but the time came when she had to wake up and embrace the chaos around her.

She pre-booked a first class flight to Hawaii, figuring might as well enjoy herself on the way down. Instead of stuck in coach bombarded with people she couldn't care less about.

# 26.

Medina glanced out of the window. A small brown envelope occupied her lap, courtesy of Jordyss.

She opened the envelope and extracted four pictures from it.

_These weren't easy to get, but she knew what she was getting into._

"Is this your first time to Hawaii?" A passenger asked.

"Yes." Medina said, smiling.

"Red suits you." The passenger said.

"What?" She asked, distracted.

"It's your hair, not many can pull it off."

"Uh Thanks." Medina said, focusing her eyes on the brown packet.

"Are you here on business or pleasure?" The nosy passenger asked.

"A little of both." Medina said, staring at the pictures.

"Seeing your family?" He asked.

"Something like that. I'm tying up some loose ends." Medina ended the conversation, looked very closely at the pictures.

They were photographs of the hired gunman, who's known in Hawaii as Chow, and of his family. His twenty-five year old son named Khi, Chow's exotic wife, Isis and their bountiful home.

The flight attendant was detected over the loud speaker.

"Ladies and gentleman, the Captain has turned off the Fasten Seatbelt Sign and you may move about the cabin. We recommend keeping your seatbelts fastened. You may now turn on your devices."

"What would you like to drink?" The stewardess asked.

"Bloody Mary." Medina said.

"Welcome to Honolulu airport. The local time is 5:30 and the temperature is seventy degrees. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seatbelt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seatbelt sign. This will indicate that we have parked in the gate and it is safe for you to move around.

Please check your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought onboard with you and use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted during the flight. Thank you for flying United. Have a nice day. "

Price locked herself in the lavatory and changed clothes. She looked in the mirror, loosened the ponytail, and removed the scrunchie, freeing her long flowing locks.

The male flight attendant rapped on the door.

"Is somebody in there?" He asked.

Price ignored him, trashed her old clothes in the bin. She then flushed the toilet.

"Miss, is everything alright in there?" He asked, again knocking on the door.

Price reached in her purse and reapplied her lipstick, tracing the curves of her supple lips. She then flushed the lipstick down the toilet. Price walked out of the bathroom

"There's something wrong with your toilet." Price said, walking away.

The flight attendant smirked.

All of a sudden the toilet overflowed, causing blue water to spew out in every crevice of the aircraft. Two flight attendants were drenched trying to disengage.

Price left the aircraft.

She noticed a pack of wayward travelers as she exited the airport. A barrage of taxicabs awaited her. She gripped the baggage and hopped in the first one.

"I'm off duty." The driver didn't deflect from the newspaper.

"You've been reprieved." Medina planted two hundred in the front seat.

Price checked into the Royal Hawaiian. The owner greeted her as well as a peculiar man in uniform kind enough to take the luggage up to the suite, the Queen Kaahumanu Suite. It had all the amenities she wasn't accustomed to, which she adorned, Asian screens, Chinese chow tables and Pan- Asian furniture. It had a living/dining area, queen-size bed, richly colored area rugs, HDTV and a breathtaking view overlooking the sparkling Pacific Ocean. Not to mention a charm she couldn't resist.

Price advanced to the window and gawked at the picturesque sight. She was mesmerized.

"Miss? Miss?" The concierge summoned.

"What?" Medina turned around.

"Where should I put your bags?" He asked.

"You can put it anywhere. Thank you. What do you know about the illegal street races?"

Medina gave him a three-hundred dollar tip to help grease the wheels of communication.

"You like to live dangerously?"He asked.

"All the time." Medina said.

"It's going down in O'ahu at midnight. I'll get you the address. Something tells me you can get yourself in. If you need anything else, call the front desk. My name is Kono. Welcome to paradise. Enjoy your stay." The concierge said, shutting the door.

She hung the Do Not Disturb sign and locked the door. Unzipping the suitcase, Price looked in her bag of tricks to prepare for her chance encounter with Khi, the devil's spawn.

She knew what she was doing. A good plan is all about strategy. And this required a little finesse.

# 27.

Price lifted up the sleeve from her faux leather jacket and ogled her watch.

It was thirty minutes past. She strutted to the racetrack and eyed the super cars.

The distinctive noise of wagering enthusiasts—the roar of the crowd as the drivers revved their engines. It was all a pure adrenaline rush.

Price moved past the crowd. She couldn't help overhearing a conversation between two men.

"Double or nothing." Khi said.

"And what's in it for me?" a seasoned driver asked.

"What, you don't like money? You get my car, and the pleasure of me never showing my face in here again. But if I win, I get your rep." Khi replied.

"No way." The seasoned driver gritted his teeth showing off his tattoo.

"Scared you'll lose?" Khi asked.

"Let's see what you got kid. This should be educational for you. Teach you to stay outta my yard. Princess, come over here and count it off." He said.

"Not her, you." Khi searched through the crowd, gestured to Medina.

"Okay kid, I'm feeling generous." The man said.

Price made her way to the starting line, signaled for them to pull up. They revved up their engines louder and louder and took shots at each other.

Price withdrew a red bandana from her neck as Khi stole a glance.

The crowd was waiting with anticipation. Most of them had bets lined up. They called it a sure thing. Cage knew his way around the racetrack.

Price slowly dropped the bandana. It tumbled to the ground. They were off.

The cars darted passed her.

They were neck and neck, taunting each other all the way. Cage passed him. Khi picked up speed. Most of them said it was no contest. That the man had been racing longer than Khi's been alive. This was his turf. The strange thing about turf is you never know when it can be taken away from you. She thought.

Cage got along with everyone except Khi. He wrote him off as some fast-talking guy who thought he was better than everybody. They've been enemies ever since.

He was so close to the starting line he could taste it. The crowd thought it was over. In a split second, Khi switched gears and left him behind in the dust. A mixture of emotions from the crowd pervaded the air.

Cage pulled up, stormed out of his car, and pushed past the crowd, almost knocking Khi to his feet.

"I won. Pay up. "Khi said,

Cage counted the money and grabbed the rest of it from his sock.

Khi extracted his hand. Cage held it out, then threw it on the ground.

He hated losing to him and figured it must've been rigged.

"That's mature." Khi said, bent down to pick it up.

He kicked him in the back.

"You think you can hustle me?! Nobody can beat me! You think you can take my rep?!" He looked disgusted. Two of his men held him up while Cage pulverized him until he looked like mincemeat.

The sound of police sirens emerged. It was deafening.

The sirens were barreling down. One of his men had begun to panic.

"Hear that? We gotta get outta here."

"Not until I take care of business." Cage said.

"Later Cage, let's go. They're coming for us." The scrawny man said.

"This fool set us up." Cage grabbed him by the collar.

"I didn't. I swear." Khi said.

They released their grip and hurried to their cars.

"C'mon man." The scrawny man begged.

Cage followed, leaving Khi on the floor. Bloody and bruised.

Price was hiding in plain sight and spotted the police cars from a distance.

"Let's go!" Price yelled to no avail.

Khi was still on the ground as the headlights flashed brightly in his face. Price clutched his hand, jerked him up, and dashed off.

# 28.

They ran down a dark alley, which turned into a narrow street. The police chased them to the end. The cops were puzzled. They patrolled the neighborhood, flashlight in hand while Price and Khi hid in a shrub. She pushed him down as to remain unseen and lied on top of him.

"Don't move."Price whispered.

"Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?" Khi asked.

"Don't flatter yourself. They're gone. You're welcome." Price said, making sure the coast was clear, and then walked in the opposite direction.

"I could've saved myself you know." Khi yelled.

"Yeah but you didn't, did you?" Price yelled back.

"I didn't catch your name." Khi said.

"And you never will." Price said.

"How about dinner?" Khi asked.

"I got other plans." Price lied.

"A drink then? Just one drink, for rescuing me back there and emasculating me at the same time." Khi replied.

"You did that yaself." Medina added.

"Just one beer, come on." Khi pleaded.

Price halted and turned her head. She walked up to him

"Just one drink."

Khi raised one finger in the air.

"Two Kona Longboard lagers." The bartender placed the drinks in front of them.

"So what's your name mystery girl?" Khi said, fiddling with the bottle cap

"Medina." Price replied.

"Medina. Like the city in Saudi Arabia where Muhammad began his campaign to establish Islam?" Khi asked, swallowing his beer.

Price looked confused.

"The city of the prophet." Khi finished.

"Something like that." Price replied.

"I'm--"

"Khi I know." Price interrupted.

"How do you know?"Khi asked.

"My business is with your father." Price took a swig of her beer.

"What business?" Khi asked.

He slaughtered my mother and ripped my family apart. Now I want his blood all over me. She thought.

"Tax evasion." Price took a long pull of the beer.

She was a woman on a mission. It didn't matter if he was attractive. Nothing mattered except making them pay. It didn't matter if they knew or not, if they weren't a part of it or not. Chow started it and Price would finish it. Why should his family be intact while mine fell apart? She thought. Her vengeance grew with every breath and it proved to be deadly.

After what had perceived to be stimulating conversation, Price opted to take him back to the hotel for a nightcap. She extracted two beer bottles from the mini refrigerator and laced one with a sleep induced drug. They talked some more. Khi informed on what a prick his father was. Price filled him in on her pretend life of normalcy. The life she wished for. The life she wished Isabel had. They swallowed the last drop of beer and it was time to make her move. Price straddled him and stuck her tongue down his throat. Khi caressed her brown skin and placed a hand on the small of her back and looked into her eyes. He pulled back. What he saw was something dark and unnatural. Khi saw the whites of her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Price asked.

Again, Khi gawked at her eyes and they had returned to normal.

"Nothing." Khi replied, shook it off as a figment of his imagination.

"Good." Price said.

He fondled her hair and kissed her neck. With every touch, he made Price's skin crawl. The only thing she felt for him was revulsion.

"Khi? Khi?"

The drug had taken effect. He was in a deep sleep, mouth open and eyes closed.

"Finally." Price uttered.

# 29.

"Hi." Khi woke up, looking around.

"Hi yourself." Price said, tucked hair behind her ear, and tasted his lips.

"What time is it?" Khi asked.

"Ten-thirty." Price said.

"Did we?" He asked, looking down at his bare chest, her half-open brassiere and G-string panties.

"Fraid so." Price said, picked up an empty condom wrapper.

"I don't normally don't do this sort of thing."Khi said.

"I noticed. If it helps, you did it very well." Price flashed a sly grin.

Khi pulled her in for a sensual kiss. Even though she hated kissing him, she put up a good front.

"Do you want some breakfast?" Price asked.

"I'm hungry, but not for breakfast."Khi said.

"Ooh" Price added.

They shared another sensual kiss. Price grabbed his face and devoured his lips. Khi touched her body, was in the process of sliding her underwear off when her cell phone went off. The ringtone was set to the sound of Ellie Driver from "Kill Bill" whistling. It was a haunting tune that fit Price perfectly.

"Hold that thought." She said, held a finger to his lips.

Price snatched it from the table and went into the other room.

"What do you want?" Price answered, rudely.

"Is that any way to talk to me?" Jordyss replied.

"Sorry. Hi. What do you want?" Price asked.

"Killing them won't solve anything." She said.

"You're losing your touch." Price smirked.

"I'm warning you. You're on dangerous ground. I won't be able to protect you."

"I can take care of myself."

"They wouldn't wan--"

"How do you know? You don't even know them, or me. Love you. Bye." Price said, noticing Khi walking in wearing that God awful t-shirt like a second skin. Khi wasn't as macho as the guys she was attracted to. But then that might be a good thing. Medina had a dominant personality. He wasn't what she expected. He was a mixed breed with Korean and Filipino features, nice looking, somewhat muscular and a good racer.

"Now, where were we?" Price asked, hung up the phone.

"I have to be somewhere, rain check?" He asked.

"Sure." Price agreed.

"Boyfriend?" Khi asked.

"Father." Price lied.

"Daddy's little girl is all grown up but he still manages to check in. That's cute." Khi said, smiled.

Price let out a light chuckle, picked up his jacket, and hurled it at his body.

"So are you." She replied, gave him a goodbye kiss.

"Now get out of here before I tell the cops you're harassing me." Price said, playfully, then backed away and walked into the bathroom.

"When can I see you again?" Khi yelled.

"I'll find you." Price yelled back.

Price turned the water on and slowly undressed. Khi stared at her frame, the symmetrical line trailing down her back to her perky derriere. He couldn't take his eyes off of her _. Beautiful._

Khi left the room before she could notice.

Price parked two blocks from the house to remain inconspicuous. She extracted the binoculars and peered through the window, stumbled upon Chow and Isis arguing. It was heated. He slapped her, and then left. Chow was rugged looking, lean, half-white and half-Filipino.

His exotic wife, Isis was Korean.

Medina followed him to a private bank and watched him take out a suitcase full of unmarked bills. He climbed back in the car and drove to his next target. After two hours of driving, Chow pulled up to the corner of a busy street and walked five blocks to the check off point where a swarthy man approached him. They made an exchange. He had a non-profit organization where his shady dealings came into play, which the government knew nothing about. They had hunches although it was nothing concrete.

Chow was the shadiest character she had ever come across.

However, his wife was a different story. She was born and raised in Waikiki and an army brat. Her parents were immigrants. Isis made a living taking pictures and started her own bamboo tiki bar near the beach. Now she's just a boring housewife.

Price decided to scope out the place.

From what she'd been told, it was mildly successful.

Khi was behind the bar, serving drinks and flirting with fellow islanders. Price was rather impressed. He seemed like a slightly different person from the one she'd met.

"Hey barkeep! How about a Mai Tai?" Price asked from behind.

Caught off guard, he clumsily hurled the drink at the woman's dress.

"Sorry, let me get that for you." Khi said, trying to wipe it up.

The woman jerked his hand back and shot him an evil look.

"Smooth. You must be rich, considering who your parents are." Price said.

"It wasn't always like this. They just got lucky." Khi said, pouring her drink.

"Did he ever tell you where it came from?" Price asked.

"He said he made some investments." Khi asked.

"And you believe him?" She asked.

"Why does it matter to you if I believe him or not?" Khi asked.

"I'm just being curious." Price replied.

"If my father heard you talking like that he'd....." Khi's words faded away. He knew the ramifications.

"He'd what?" Price asked.

# 30.

Today was Khi's birthday and Chow and his wife had put together a classy shindig. All of Khi's friends were there as well as his father's colleagues and potential benefactors. The penthouse was fit for a king and queen. It looked even better inside. A crystal chandelier and priceless paintings adorned the ballroom. Champagne was flowing. Music was playing. People were mingling. There was a ridiculously-large birthday cake in the back.

Khi and Medina entered, arm-in-arm, observing their surroundings. They agreed on one thing. They hated fancy gatherings.

"Surprise!" The crowd roared.

They glided down the staircase as Price whispered happy birthday in his ear.

"Happy birthday son." Chow greeted, grinned.

"Happy birthday." Isis chimed in, sized Price up.

"Thanks. "Khi replied, disappointed.

"You don't look pleased."Chow said.

"I wanted something simple--"Khi said.

"You're my only son--"Chow interrupted.

"With just my friends." Khi finished.

"They're your family. You've known them since birth." Chow said.

"They're your people not mine." Khi said, sternly.

"Ahem! Aren't you going to introduce us?" Isis cleared her throat, gesturing to his date.

"This is Medina." Khi said.

"How do you do." Chow said, kissed her hand.

"What a unique name. It's so nice to meet you." Isis joined in.

"The pleasure is all mine." Medina said.

"You look familiar; have we met somewhere before?" Chow asked, playing coy.

"Nowhere you wouldn't remember." Medina said, grabbed a glass of champagne off the serving tray.

He laughed it off even though Medina was dead serious. Isis smiled as if it was an inside joke she wasn't part of.

"How long have you two been dating?" Chow asked.

"Two weeks." Khi replied.

"I've lived in Waikiki all my life and I haven't seen you." She pointed out.

"Maybe you haven't been looking in the right places." Medina said, sipped the champagne.

"What are your intentions with my son?" Isis asked.

"Let's mingle." Khi interjected, taking her hand.

"Yes, by all means. Intermingle with YOUR friends, considering what this is all costing me." Chow said, glaring at him.

Khi grabbed a glass of champagne, swallowed it, and then greeted his father's associates who were only there to conduct business. It was just another opportunity for his father to show off.

Growing tired of the whole charade, he joined his friends. Dissatisfied with Chow, Khi made a speech.

"Thank you all for coming out. To my father, the rich prick who cares more about money than his own son. Go to hell. I don't want anything from you." Khi said, poured the champagne on the floor, and then stepped on the glass with his shoe.

The crowd gasped. In the corner of the room, Medina was smiling on the inside. They weren't so different after all. She caught herself staring at him and it was obvious the attraction was there.

"It's still my party, and I want to spend it with the one person who might actually love me. Let's go Dina." Khi said, clutching her hand.

They trudged past the cake and jaw dropping guests, searching for a quiet place.

They found the one room in the whole house that has been kept exclusive, better known as the study.

They opened the door to unlock the secret getaway. The atmosphere was stuffy. Medina took a step further and admired the silver statues on the mantel.

As she opened her mouth to speak, Khi grasped her face and devoured her lips.

Kissing him back, enfolding her tongue with his, Medina looked him in the eyes.

"I love you." Khi gently whispered.

"You don't even know me." Medina said.

"I know enough." Khi replied.

"You only know what I want you to know." Medina said with a cold sober look on her face.

Silly boy, you don't know what you've got yourself into. She thought.

"I'm not afraid of you." Khi said.

"You should be." Medina said.

Khi pulled her close, craving her lips.

She refused to admit her affection for him. Her need for revenge was far greater than her feelings for him. Khi was the enemy in this scenario. She was the victor.

They lay on the floor indulging in the forbidden fruit, shedding their inhibitions. Khi was more than willing. Once their intensity increased, Medina climbed on top of him, entangling her tongue with his. She moaned with delight and then reached behind the desk; pulled out the carving knife she had stolen and plunged it in his chest.

_I've always had the pleasure of business._

Medina sculpted a Giant K in his body and hollowed him out. It was her best masterpiece yet. Blood was everywhere, on the walls, the statues, and the carpet.

Medina wiped off the knife, kissed his forehead.

She then examined the room and searched for an exit when suddenly she heard a woman's voice. The door was locked. The knob jiggled.

"Open this door. Open this door right now. This woman, is no good for you son." Isis ordered.

In the far right corner a small window revealed itself. Medina looked at it then advanced toward the window.

"If you don't do as I say, I'll get your father to knock it down." She shouted obscenities in her native language.

Chow charged to the door and slammed his taut body against it.

Medina raised the window, therefore triggering the screeching alarm.

Chow drove the heel of his foot into the door.

Medina abandoned the weapon.

Chow gave another momentous kick to the door.

The wood splintered.

Just as Medina climbed out of the window, her heels got caught on a hook.

# 31.

Isis stepped in; unaware of the terror she would come face-to-face with. The statues and the wall were drenched with his blood. She slinked down, walked to the center of the room...

Isis let out a gut-wrenching scream. The hollowed-out shell of a man was exposed. His face was unrecognizable.

Chow hurried to the study to witness his worst nightmare come true. The guests followed. There were no words to describe what he was feeling. The guests turned pale.

_Why so peaked? This is some of my best work._

Medina peered through the window and hid in the darkness before they could capture her, and then disappeared in the gloom between the bushes.

A cab pulled up on the opposite side of the street. The driver was Chow's right hand man. Medina paid him handsomely and in turn, he proved to be an ally.

"How was the party?" He said

"It was a show-stopper." Medina said.

Chow consoled his wife while the detective began his questioning. She looked at Khi's rotting corpse as the coroner lifted it up.

"Don't touch him! My beautiful little boy." She said, hysterical.

The coroner halted.

"Why don't you sit down?" The detective said.

Chow and his wife sat on the couch. The detective handed her a tissue.

She dried her eyes and noticed the police officials swarming around. Another was outside checking all the perimeters.

Medina was masked as a male crime scene technician dusting for fingerprints. When they weren't looking she glanced from the across the room.

"Who was the last one to see your son alive?" The detective asked.

"Everybody. Wait..." She paused.

"His girlfriend. After his speech, they went to the study." Isis said.

"What a way to go. Did she give a name?" The detective asked.

"Medina Price." Khi said.

"I'll put a warrant out for her arrest. Is anything missing?" The detective inquired.

"No." She said.

A female officer approached, carrying a large bag with the weapon inside.

"I found this outside near the bushes. The knife is wiped clean."

"Is this yours?" The detective showed her. Isis examined it closely.

"It's... my butcher's knife." Isis said, carefully.

"Do you make many enemies Mr. Hung?" He asked.

"Who doesn't?" Chow smirked.

"I'll need a list. We'll find her. If you want my advice, lock up tight. In the meantime, one of my officers will plant a bug in case an opportunity presents itself." The detective said, motioning to the crime scene technician.

Medina planted a small but effective bug on the ceiling, _Gotcha._

# 32.

"Hello?" Chow answered.

"Mr. Hung, this is Detective Aasa. I wanted to talk to you first." Aasa said.

"Have you arrested her yet?" Chow asked.

"I don't see how that's possible." Aasa replied.

"Why? " Chow said, confused.

Detective Aasa took a long drawn out pause making Chow very unsettled.

"I asked you a question!" He said, hostile.

"She doesn't exist. I searched numerous times. There's no record of her anywhere. It must've been her alias." Chow lost his grip on the receiver, stunned.

"Chow? What's wrong?" Isis rushed to him.

Medina set foot in a run-down church twenty blocks down the road. An obscure reminder of the one she visited at a young age, when her life made sense. _My mother always told me if you confess all your sins you'll be forgiven. That's nothing but an old wives' tale._

Medina sauntered down a vacant aisle, shrouded in black and avoiding the onlookers. She went behind the curtains and sat in the small enclosed booth.

"Forgive me father for I have sinned." Medina said.

"What is your sin my child?"The priest asked.

"The people I've killed. The bodies I've buried. It's catching up to me. I'm becoming someone else." Medina said.

"Who?" The priest asked.

"My sister." Medina replied, dead eyes.

Price staked out the penthouse, slid the earpiece on and indulged in a heated conversation involving Chow and his wife.

"What do you mean she doesn't exist?! You let that bitch come into our house to slaughter our son!" Isis shrieked.

"He's your son, has been since birth." Chow said.

"Screw you!" Isis replied, her voice was earth shattering.

"You lost that game already, remember?" Chow said, smugly.

"You bastard!" Isis slapped him.

Price watched her hurl priceless heirlooms at his head from the window.

"That's enough!" Chow ordered.

"Who is she? What does she want?" Isis asked.

"Me." Chow said.

Price emerged from the shower stall with a plush towel wrapped around her, turned on the TV and witnessed the last twenty minutes of Khi's funeral. It was a media circus, swamped with reporters hounding the family about the details. Isis was dressed in black, clutching a handkerchief that had supposedly been stained with her tears. Chow was wearing a dark grey Hugo Boss suit, glasses to match. He worked up a few tears for the cameras. Although he was genuine, it looked rehearsed. A police sketch appeared on the screen. Price studied the curves of her face.

"This mysterious girl has not yet been found. Needless to say the killer's still at large. The police are doing all they can to put her reign of terror to an end. All prayers go out to the Hung family for their severe loss. I'm Aloha Williams reporting for KGMB."

Immediately, Price was nauseous. She felt something surge from her gut and into her throat. Whatever she had ordered from room service was filing her mouth, she hurried to the bathroom, lifted up the toilet seat and freed up the foul stench within her. This can't be happening. She thought, flushing the toilet. Price splashed some cold water on her face and eyed the cold-hearted person staring back. _What did you do to me?_

The idea of having a part of him growing inside sickened her. The chunks rose back in her throat, taking in its putrid scent as Price kneeled beside the toilet, puking her guts out. She didn't need a pregnancy test to dictate her destiny. Price was the definition of picture perfect health and Zoe raised her to be strong, maybe even stronger. They didn't break her. Price didn't accept fate or God. _Another myth meant to brainwash little girls and boys into making the right choices. If you do wrong you get punished. If you do good deeds you'll get saved. What a crock._

# 33.

Chow and his wife had a new security system installed, and the only ones who knew the code were his new henchmen and his personal slave, Cyrus. Chow trusted him and she used it to her advantage. Judging from their previous conversations, Isis wasn't aware of what happened but somehow she was a part of it. _Maybe I'll make it easy on her. Then again... you are the company you keep._

Price bided her time until he left and disarmed the guards. She pulled out the wire cutters, mounted the pole, and then cut the power source and the phone line.

She shimmed down the pole and gained entry holding a flashlight.

Price scaled upstairs and looked in several rooms. She went downstairs and then located Isis in the favorite amenity in the house, the Indoor pool.

Price shined a light on the water and then dove in. Isis spotted her, grabbed her legs, took her to the deep end and attempted to drown her. Isis scrambled to the top, grabbing the butcher knife at the edge of the pool.

"Stay away from me. I called my husband. He'll be here soon." Isis said.

Price glanced at the cell phone. There was no signal.

She moved toward her.

"Don't come any closer." Isis said, hand shaking.

Price snatched the knife out of her grasp and without hesitation she cut off her face. Price pulled her to the deep end and held her down until there was no more life left inside her. She saw the blood covering the pool as if it was the third sign of the plague. Price ascended from the pool like she's just been reborn.

As she vacated, Cyrus shot her from behind. She struck him with everything she had before fleeing the scene.

When this was all over, could she be normal? Have a regular no-nonsense lifestyle like the rest of the drones?

Price was too far gone. Hatred drove her. She didn't care about anyone, or anything. Who she was, was just a memory.

"Ah!" Cyrus winced from the pain. The man Price thought was strong turned out to be the complete opposite when wounded. She looked at him as weak.

"Be quiet. It's just a flesh wound." Price said, patching him up.

"Flesh wound my ass." Cyrus said.

"I had to make it believable didn't I?"Price replied.

"Believable? You almost took my skin off." Cyrus said.

"I'm almost done. I thought you were tough." Price said,

"No one's immune to pain." He replied.

"You can get used to anything if you've had it your whole life." Price said.

"Do you believe in God?" He asked.

"There is no God. There is only me. God didn't save my family. I waited. Nothing happened. I grew up...and realized there is no higher power. No heaven, no hell, just carnage."Price said, wrapping the bandage around his arm.

"You're forced to play the card's your dealt. It's not God. Not the devil. It's life." He said.

"I don't need saving." Price said.

"You're not as tough as you think you are Medina. There's still good in you." He said.

"It's too late for me." Price said.

"There's no such thing."

# 34.

Price entered the bathroom soaking wet, tossed the clothes on the floor and the let the water run down her face, washing all the blood from her skin. Thinking how her life would've turned out if everything was how it was supposed to be. Thinking of how this all would end. Will it be my ending or Chow's? She thought. Chow wasn't a calculated killer. He was a con artist looking for a quick buck until he stumbled onto Henry or Henry ran into him.

Price took a breath, stared at her stomach and put one hand over it as if she could feel it kicking. A baby did not fall into her perfect plan and Price didn't know if she wanted to be a mother. Would she learn to love it? Would she be capable of loving anyone again?

Price surfaced from the shower, refreshed with the vast amount of cold steam surrounding her and the glow she couldn't keep secret.

As her feet hit the carpet, Chow smashed the back of her head with his pistol and rendered her unconscious. Price fell to the floor, her body exposed.

"Crazy bitch." Chow said, standing over her, sizing her up with a mixture of disgust and desire.

"Get her dressed." Chow walked away, barking his orders at Cyrus.

"It's nothing personal, just business." Cyrus said to her unconscious body.

Price came to as she heard the sound of Chow's voice, overhearing the phone conversation. Before straining her eyes to focus, she endured another blow.

Price woke up in an abandoned warehouse; duct taped to a chair, the throbbing pain eating away at her sanity. She eyed the setting. The building was on borderline destruction.

"Good. You're awake. Surprised?" Chow asked, approaching.

"I'm as surprised as the look on your wife's face."Price said.

Chow's expression was grim while his eyes were filled with rage. He pulled back his arm, clenching his fist; he threw it forward with a force that jerked her head back when connected.

"I never hit a woman until now. Did that hurt?" Chow asked.

"Did it hurt when I gutted your son like a fish?" Medina asked, spit blood on his shoe. Chow swung another punch toward her face, the impact almost knocking her out of the chair.

"You're getting better." Medina said.

"Unfortunately for you, the best is yet to come. Your mother deserved to die. And now so do you." Chow replied, walking towards her until there was a small wedge of space between them.

"You don't want to play this game."Medina said.

"Ah, how we soon forget." Chow replied with a sardonic smile.

"Don't do this." Medina said.

"I never pegged you for the begging type." Chow said.

"Not me. You." Medina replied.

"Watch her." Another order he roared at Cyrus.

Cyrus made a huge mistake trusting him and made a bigger one double crossing her,

Chow was a wealthy man who wouldn't be alive for much longer. He wasn't a gangster but knew enough not to carry around dead weight. He didn't need Cyrus anymore and couldn't trust him. Cyrus made his bed and had to rot in it. It was as simple as that and it didn't take a genius to see that they lived by the same rules; the same code.

Chow was brought up in Youngstown. So was someone else which brought her back to the source. Henry. They didn't just meet by chance _._ There was a reason for everything, cause and effect. _Have we met someplace before?_ Price traveled back in her mind, trying desperately to remember. SLOWLY it came RUSHING back, in bits and pieces. She HAD met him. Two years prior to her mother's murder. Henry introduced them. Zoe shook his hand, greeting him with an audacious smile. Price didn't think much of him at the time. He was Henry's colleague. They knew each other growing up.

Henry needed a man he could trust. _But why pay him off?_ Chow didn't seem like a man who had a squeaky-clean reputation. _What did he have on him?_

"Henry poisoned his father. Chow had proof and threatened to go public with it." Cyrus said, eagerly confessing.

"We don't have much time." Cyrus blurted out, rushed to remove the tape from her legs and made his way to her arms. The butt of a gun dangled from his pants. Medina lunged for it...

BANG! The bullet merely grazed her skin as Cyrus crumbed to the ground in a dead silence.

Price stared at the cold steel taking over his hand.

"Leaving so soon? I got you a surprise." Chow said.

The door creaked open and Henry waltzed in.

"Hi honey. You still have your mother's eyes." Henry said, holding a gun.

"And my father's cunning." Price said.

"I'm sorry to hear about Issy. She should've offed herself years ago." Henry said.

"Let's finish this." Chow growled, cocking his gun.

"Gladly." Henry uttered then shot him in the temple.

# 35.

Price detached the duct tape as Henry faced her, aiming the gun in her direction.

"Trust me, you won't feel a thing." Henry said.

He placed his finger on the trigger. Price got the gun of off Cyrus's body. This was how things were settled out in the west. Price knew it would come to this.

Shots were fired. Henry staggered back, disclosing the bullet holes in his shirt. The slug punctured his chest and his heart would soon be next.

He died instantly, like a rabid dog in the street.

Price knew he had something to do with it. Henry didn't have a motive. He did it because he could get away with it. He was a monster but she still believed he had an ounce of morality left in him. Instead of being like her mother, she ended up as the beast he created.

Price looked at the last man standing. Chow was still alive.

She had to put an end to this and knew just how to do it. She raised the gun but someone forced it out of her hands. It was Jordyss. She came through the back entrance. _What stake does she have in this?_ She thought as Jordyss popped two bullets in her. The pellets penetrated Price's insides as she stumbled to the floor.

"You think I don't have other reinforcements? Foolish girl." Chow chuckled, crawling on the floor.

"I warned you." Jordyss said with a sardonic smile.

"Finish her!" Chow ordered.

Before she fired, Price kicked her and the gun spewed out of her hand. Price pummeled her to the ground and scrambled to get the pistol. Jordyss tackled her from behind and wrestled her to the ground.

"I thought you were my friend." Price said.

"Haven't you figured it out? They're my family. My last name is Hung. I could never be your friend. No one could ever love someone like you." Jordyss said.

"Say hello to your brother."

"You're pathetic Medina."

"The name's Isabel."

Price picked up the pistol and popped three bullets in her, two in the heart and in the head. Price had one bullet left and knew just who to use it on. His name was on it. His blood was calling out to her. She could almost smell it. He was screaming before she was done.

Price retrieved her trusty knife and imprinted a K in him, made damn sure they wouldn't forget. It was the first letter of her real name. This wouldn't bring them back but she was hoping it would give her peace, some kind of relief. There were a few things she relied on and revenge just happened to be one of them. It was at the top of her list. It was her religion, her sanity. It became her sacred realm, her special place.

# 36.

A pregnant Medina walked along the cemetery plots, the leaves whistling in the breeze until she came across a tombstone. She glanced at it and laid a long stemmed black rose on the grave. She observed the dates at the bottom.

March 20, 1993-Oct 10, 2016

She read the writing in the middle. It read: Soul Possessed.

Several leaves covered up the top half of the tombstone. Just before she left, a gush of wind whipped them up and disclosed the top of the headstone. She saw herself in the lustrous surface. There was no expression of remorse left on her face. It was all over. Her reign of terror had come to an end, but she lost herself in the fold. She looked the same but she wasn't Medina anymore. She was her sister. Her body was hers but her spirit belonged to Isabel, sending Medina's soul to purgatory.

Isabel's eyes flickered as it altered to a pale green color. She looked at the names on the headstone.

It read: Here lies Medina. Born Koley Vada.

_Daddy said she was always the strongest. She put up a good fight...but I was determined to take what was rightfully mine. What the world owed me. Enjoy the afterlife sis; I hear it's a real bitch. Some say no one can survive in a tumultuous world, such as this. But there's a first time for everything._

**_The End_**
Next Of Kin:

Blood of Secrets

**_Coming soon_**
