January 23, 2021: Schlimazl

"Long time no see."

Presently standing against Syn was a man with a well-toned physique that could very well be mistaken for a bodybuilder's. He was practically triple the size of the tiny young lady in front of him.

"Been livin' good?"

The elbow space left for Syn to navigate was not enough to allow her to get out of the unit. The man's figure already occupied at least 80% of it.

"Your place hella looks modest. Where'd all the money you got from whoring go?"

"None of your business, scum."

Though Syn resolved to put up a facade of calmness till the end, the overwhelming dread was starting to take over her rationale. She couldn't repress her desire to be agonistic any longer.

"Scum? Watch your mouth you f*ckin b*tch. You tryna snitch me to the police." The man growled, slamming his hand on the door. 

"It's not my fault that you're broke and can't compensate a mere whore. And did you already forget that you repeatedly harassed me for weeks?"

Her cognizance was profusely telling her to knock off the tirade of insults and first attempt to deescalate the dispute by apologizing. The circumstances might favour the show of buying time in that way.

However, her obstinacy to deprive them of the pleasure of seeing her cowering prevailed. She was aware that it was more of an exhibition of foolishness rather than a display of courage. Naturally, the ruffian took offence at her behaviour.

"What did you say?"

With one long stride, he bellied up to the woman. Syn wasted no beat in taking an equivalent step backwards, preserving the distance that they had. They kept up with that pattern until it arrived at a situation where Syn became a prisoner in her own home.

"Thanks to you, I can't get a single gig 'round town 'cause the police are on me. Someone needs to pay, no?" The man maliciously chattered, eyeing Syn's whole body as he pinned her in between his arms.

The longer the incident stretched out, staging a breakout was proving harder for Syn to do. Unless she's able to knock him down, Syn's path to escape would remain non-existent.

'He could easily grab me if I try to vault for the kitchen counter or my nightstand. I guess I have no other choice.'

It was worth noting that Syn had tucked the shears in the belt at the rear of her robe. She did it unconsciously once she encountered a brief chance of freedom, which was right after she slipped the confines of her bathroom. The goon, who had her cornered, did not know that she was currently armed.

"Hey, you thug! I told you to guard the door! Return to your place! Do not go near her!"

Cringe took over her countenance while she observed the lead aggressor already kicking and limping his way in their direction. Nevertheless, what truly stupefied her was the ensuing scene.

"You're fuckin' noisy. Sh*t the hell up, you skank."

The goon reached for his back pocket and produced an ominous weapon with his left hand - A 'Glock 43' that was easy to conceal.

The next thing that Syn saw was the collapsed body of a miserable man, writhing in agony, even before the sound of several gunshots registered in her ears. Her mind finally processed what happened, but only when the ringing in her ears induced a piercing headache.

Being the migraine patient that she was augmented the resonation's intensity.

"Tsk, disgusting twat."

In defiance of the pain she was feeling, Syn exerted utmost effort in preventing her eyes from shutting.

'This is it! He's not looking at me!'

Mustering up the necessary bravery to act, she gripped the shears with both of her hands and buried them on one of the man's eye sockets.

"What the f*ck?!"

She let go of the helve and took the opportunity to push him with all her might while he stumbled to keep his balance. The lady trotted clumsily to the door, desperate to exit her apartment.

The goon scrambled to stand up, devoid of regards to his injury, striving to make haste to catch the runaway victim.

"B*tch, I'll f*cking kill you if you dare!"

Syn heeded his words, though refused to relent to them. She was too engrossed in getting to safety.

"Come back here, you whore! I'll f*cking kill you!"

Eventually, the goon was on his feet, ready to give chase. Blinded by rage, he could not be bothered to uproot the trimming scissors from his skull.

Three steps in, he slipped and faceplanted on the floor. He was not able to avoid the blood that pooled in the middle of the entryway. It was the blood that oozed out of the hole on the head of the man whom he had recently shot.

Fortunately for Syn, that was the start of a chain of providential episodes for her.

Once she liberated herself, the distinctive siren of several police mobiles from a distance struck her ears.

Barefooted and wearing a bathrobe alone, it was the least of her concerns to suffer from the winter weather. Instead of knocking on the doors of her neighbours, she opted to cross the flights of stairs. It would take her outside of the building where the authorities could easily spot her.

She relied on her hearing to note if the assailant was on her trail, not wanting to give a single glance back.

The foot-deep piles of snow crunched under the weight of Syn's hurried steps. The cold air that landed on her skin slowly calcified her limbs, proving the stroll to be much more of a task.

'Please hurry.'

The moment she begged in her thoughts, three police mobiles rounded the corner. Syn forced her whole body to move towards the road proper, ardent to meet her saviours.

Thankfully, the officers quickly deduced that she might be the person who called for the emergency service. They stopped at an appropriate distance from the buried sidewalk and got out of their vehicles. One cop then nighed the distressed lady.

"Miss, first things first, get in the car. It's too cold."

"No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine. Anyway, two men attempted to assault me. One is in my room, dead from the gunshot, I presume." Syn stopped speaking to take a big gulp, gasping for air thereafter. "The other has the gun. I managed to stab him with a pair of scissors, but I don't know what happened after that. He might run away if you take too long."

"Are you in need of a first-aid? Do you have injuries?"

"No, just please get this over with."

Exhaustion radiated greatly from her voice and presence. The officers could fairly feel the difficulty of the ordeal she endured. The earliest officer to approach her faced his colleagues and beckoned them to start the operation. A total of five policemen then scurried up the apartment building.

"We're going to sort it out now, so follow our instructions and get inside the mobile. The cold isn't forgiving to those who are lightly clothed. Please be comfortable in the car. I'll catch up with my teammates."

Syn nodded as a response, too tired to argue regarding her disposition. As the sole officer to remain by her side left, she went to the nearest car, staggering. Although, she never did touch the door handle when she sighted a familiar luxury car closing in on her.

The driver cut off the car's engine immediately after almost bumping the compartment of the last police mobile in the line. He got out of his ride and set off running towards Syn.

"Tristan..."

"Syn! Are you alright?!"

The woman continued to stare blankly at the man despite him grasping her shoulders tightly.

"What is this? Blood?! Are you hurt?!"

Patches of blood stained her white robe all over. Syn simply shook her head as an answer, but that did not assure Tristan. He wanted to inspect for himself, except the coldness of her skin made him flinch.

"You're freezing! What do you think you're doing in this kind of weather?!"

Tristan removed his beige trench coat and clothed Syn with it. He then carried her like a princess and strode en route to his car. The gent carefully dropped Syn on the passenger seat, making sure to address any possible discomfort ahead of putting on her seatbelt.

"I'll take you to the hospital, no objections."

In lieu of hearing a reply, Tristan simply heard a stifled cry from Syn. He held her hands that were trembling, both from the cold and the delayed onset of fear. It made him aware that he was being too hard on her. His previously uptight tone suddenly softened.

"You must have been so scared."

Speechless, she only gripped his hands in return. A second later, tears began to flood her lower lash line, her mind still in the phase of accepting that she was out of danger. As she closed her eyes, the teardrops started to race down her cheeks.

Tristan withdrew a grey handkerchief from his suit's inner pocket and used it to wipe the tears on her face.

"There there, Syn. You did great, okay?"

He had yet to know the entire sequence of events, considering that she solely informed him that an unidentified man broke into her unit. Anyhow, he wouldn't dismiss the fact that Syn outlasted the trial on her own. Tristan kissed her on the forehead as a way to console her.

"I'm here. I'll protect you from anyone who wishes harm to you. You can rest now."

He let go of her hands, then he untied the ribbon that bonded her hair bun. 

"I'll just call somebody. It won't be long."

Tristan inclined the passenger seat to an angle that will aid in a comfy sleep. He then closed the door behind him immediately after.

He stood right beside the car and brought out his phone. Before he could unlock his device, an officer drew in on him.

"Hello, sir. Are you a relative of the victim?"

"Yes, I am her partner," Tristan uttered decisively, preventing any room for doubt to grow.

"Where is she? Can we ask her a few questions?"

"She's asleep in my car. Please spare her for now."

"I see."

"What's the situation?"

He took the initiative to inquire to gather as much information as possible. Of course, the policeman was a bit hesitant, though decided to tell Tristan in the end.

"We phoned for an ambulance, sir. The two men in the unit are dead, both resulting from an injury to the head. The equipment for lock picking was discovered in the belongings of one suspect, so there is a piece of evidence for forced entry. The other suspect had a gun on him and it seems that he shot his accomplice."

In spite of maintaining a blank expression on his visage, Tristan felt aghast of the gravity of despair that Syn went through. He almost wanted to bring back the criminals' lives just so he could beat them up again.

Just then, the phone in Tristan's hand vibrated, the caller ID of his secretary displayed on the screen.

"Excuse me, officer. Let me take this call."

"Alright, sir."

Tristan about-faced from the police prior to answering the call. 

{{ "Good morning, Mr O' Connor." }}

"Rocco, visit Apartment 2 in 8th street. You handle the specifics of the police investigation."

{{ "Police investigation? Were you in an accident, Mr O' Connor? Or did you cause the accident?" }}

"You are oddly calm, supposing that I'm a victim."

{{ "Well, you'll manage. Going back, what seems to be the matter?" }}

Tristan was affable when it came to the treatment of his employees. It's reflected in the light-hearted communication, whatever the degree of seriousness, between him and them.

"I assume you already know of my relationship with Miss Syn Rosenfeldt and her workplace."

{{ "There is nothing about you that I have no knowledge of, Sir." }}

"Make sure that the agency won't be questioned during the background check. Also, clean her place up. I will send you a message detailing the incident."

{{ "I'd be very glad to do your bidding. But first, I need to inform you that there is an urgent message from the CEO." }}

"From Mr Brecheisen? What is it?"

{{ "Your presence is required at the head office for an important meeting." }}

"Meeting? There was no advisory regarding this. How important is the agenda?"

{{ "Apparently, the opposition successfully filed a lawsuit against the President. They're compelling him to step down." }}