CHAPTER 6: In The Shadow Of Sickness

The hectic day finally came to an end, and I stood up from my desk, stretching my arms overhead. The weight of the long hours was starting to catch up with me, but there was little time to relax. With a sigh, I grabbed my bag and walked out of the office, the quiet hum of the building enveloping me as the door clicked shut behind me. The evening air greeted me as I stepped outside, a welcome contrast to the stale office atmosphere. Climbing into my car, I settled into the driver's seat and started the engine. Just as I pulled out of the parking lot, my phone rang, vibrating against the cup holder. I glanced at the screen. It was Mykel, my right-hand man, always reliable, always efficient. "Yeah? Give me the info," I answered, not bothering with pleasantries. Mykel didn't waste time either. "I've sent the file to your phone. Take a look," he replied briefly, his tone clipped as always. I hummed, acknowledging his message, and ended the call without another word. Reaching for my phone, I unlocked it and navigated to my messages. There, waiting for me, was the file Mykel had mentioned. I tapped it open, the screen illuminating my face in the dim light of the car.

Details:

Name : Elaina Whitlock

Age : 21 year old.

Address : xxx street, xxx house number.

Job : student of xxx college and working part time in "Bearchoco" cafe down the street.

Family : none ( Parents died when she was 5 , she was raised in a orphanage)

As I sifted through the details in the file, something else caught my attention—photos. Attached at the bottom of the document were several pictures, each one of her. I stared at the first image, then the next, and the next. A strange sense of satisfaction crept up on me, one that I couldn't quite place. A creeping smile tugged at the corners of my lips as the memories of our brief encounter earlier that morning surged to the forefront of my mind. Her face, her eyes... I could see them so vividly. The curve of her lips as she smiled, soft and genuine, as if she hadn't a care in the world. Her voice echoed in my ears too, clear and light, laced with a hint of something that seemed almost… comforting. A memory of the faint scent of lavender followed closely, mingling with the crisp morning air. It was delicate, almost ethereal, a fragrance that lingered in my mind long after she had gone.

I couldn't help but feel a warmth in my chest, an unfamiliar sensation. My heart seemed to beat a little faster, my pulse quickening as her image continued to flood my thoughts. It wasn't like anything I had felt before. It was the kind of warmth I used to chase, the kind of feeling I only found when the world was hazy, when everything around me was blurred and distant. The warmth I used to get from the things that kept me numb, the drugs that once filled that hollow space within me. But now, this was something else. Something real. Something I hadn't known in years. It confused me. It unsettled me. But it also... felt good. Too good.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't even realize how quickly I had reached my destination. My home. It should have been a place of peace, a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. But as I stepped out of the car, I immediately noticed something that shattered any sense of calm. A car was parked in the driveway. Not just any car, but his car ,my father's. A sudden surge of anger flared up within me, hot and unrelenting. I could feel my jaw tighten as my fists clenched at my sides. Without thinking, I stormed up to the door and threw it open, the anger boiling over, demanding release. There, standing in the living room, was Nozelle Grosvenor. The very sight of him sent a jolt of fury through me. I couldn't believe he was here, in my space, after everything that had happened. My voice came out cold, laced with venom.

"What brings you here, Mr. Nozelle Grosvenor?" I spat the name as if it were poison. He turned to face me, his expression calm, almost detached, as if he were completely unfazed by the venom in my voice. "I am your father, Asher," he said, the words slipping from his lips so easily, like a lie he'd repeated a thousand times. The moment the words reached my ears, something inside me snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal, it all came crashing down at once.

I could feel my throat tighten, my chest heaving with the force of my emotions. My hands shook with the effort to hold back the explosion that was building within me. But then, I let it go. My voice roared with fury as I shouted, "YOU ARE NOT MY DAD! NEVER! A MAN WHO CAN'T PROTECT HIS OWN WIFE AND SON, WHO LEFT THEM TO DIE, WHO TURNED HIS BACK ON HIS FAMILY—YOU CAN NEVER BE MY DAD!" The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. It was as if I had ripped open an old wound, letting all the pain spill out in one explosive moment. I could see the flicker of something in his eyes—a flash of regret, perhaps—but it didn't matter. The man standing before me wasn't the father I once knew. He wasn't the man who should've protected us, who should've kept us safe. He had failed us. And I could never forgive him for that.

I breathed heavily, as I pulled out a gun and pointed at his head. " GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE, BEFORE I SHOOT THIS HEAD" I warned. As he, just walked out without a second thought. It's as if my entire personality shifts whenever I see my father. There's this sudden transformation, and I become someone else, someone I don't entirely recognize. The moment I caught sight of him, something inside me snapped, and I impulsively threw the gun aside. Without thinking, I rushed to my room, desperate to escape whatever was brewing inside me. Once there, I locked myself away in the quiet of my room, searching for something to numb the chaos in my mind. My hands automatically reached into the drawer, pulling out the pills I had been hiding for just such moments. I didn't think twice before swallowing them, hoping they'd bring me the relief I was craving. The cold, empty feeling began to seep in as I lay down and let the drugs take over. Soon, everything faded, and I drifted into an uneasy sleep, hoping for an escape from the turmoil that never seemed to leave me.