Anxiety blurs reality, turning your mind into a tangled mess of fears until it feels like you're being swallowed whole by your own worries.
Well, that's me right now.
I don't know if it's anxiety or fear.
It's both.
Of course it's both — I just watched Kaden get assaulted. Kaden got assaulted and I didn't know until after his disappearance. Now I feel like shit.
As for the lady that assaulted him, Lord help me, I don't do revenge. That's way beneath Rhea Patel. Accidents though? Those, I definitely do. Right now, I want to inject her with the deadliest drug — the one that rots flesh. Literally.
I've already left the forbidden room, and now I'm taking my frustration out on the coconut barfi Lilith made for me.
Not that I even like coconut. Am i supposed to? Honestly it tastes like bland, watered-down milk. I don't even know how to explain it properly. I just don't like it.
I like some coconut sweets though.
God, I am such a weird, picky eater.
Part Indian, but I hate certain sweets.
Don't judge. Or judge. Who cares?
"I'm here. Missed you too," Uncle Ty's voice cuts through my internal rant, making me pause my assault. I stabbed the sweet repeatedly with a fork. Poor coconut barfi.
For a doctor, Uncle Ty is an absolutely delightful narcissist. No sarcasm included.
Honestly, I like it.
He's my favorite uncle. Technically, he's the only one I like among my parents' siblings. I'm picky about everything, including people
I walk over, hug him, and immediately steal his stethoscope. I like listening to my heartbeat. Or maybe I just like the look Uncle Ty gives me — the one that screams "get your paws off!"
"Mr. Tyson, the famous doctor, is more narcissistic than I am. Sounds perfect for the news tomorrow." I tease, giving him a wide Pennywise grin before bolting to hide behind Lilith, stethoscope still in hand.
And there it is — the look. It's funny every single time.
"Rhea, I barely slept last night. Give me my stethoscope, or I'm taking the anime stickers I brought back with me," he threatens.
Bribery. He knows my weakness. Technically it's not a weakness but it's fun ya know.
He's the only one who still gets me stickers. Mostly anime-themed.
The last set he got me was Attack on Titan.
Uncle Ty might be 36, but his spirit is still 22.
He even watches anime. Real anime like Attack on Titan, Dragon Ball, Naruto and the likes. Not cartoons. I still watch SpongeBob though. Don't judge me again. Even if you do, still don't care.
I shuffle over, hand him his stethoscope, and — without missing a beat — stretch out my palm: stickers, please.
He hands me a huge roll. Two actually, plus two smaller sticker packs — one with Zenitsu, the other with Inosuke. The rolls are basically like picture sticker frames. One's Nezuko, the other is Tanjiro.
"Thanks, Uncle Ty. Felix, help me stick these up in the gaming room. There are frames there for the rolls". I call out, but he's not even paying attention.
He's glued to the TV — of course.
Felix lives for news reports, especially the juicy ones: murder, robbery, assaults, you name it. Both he and Mike are always watching the news. They're mostly interested in female criminals. "We need a female assassin, c'mon man". That's what they always say whenever I ask why they're obsessed with the news. Whenever there's no female criminal, my TV survives by thin luck.
"It's been reported that a man was found dead at Serenity Park early this morning. An officer on patrol found a leg buried under a pile of fallen leaves in the park. The man has not been identified and has been taken to the hospital for autopsy to determine cause of his death."
Felix grins like he just won the lottery.
Meanwhile, I feel like I've seen a ghost.
Because... I know who that man is. Well, not really. I have seen him once though.
He's one of the bastards who attacked Mr mysterious last night.
I really need to know what his name is. Luca? Samuel? Dominic? Kaden?
His name is always popping up in my head. Sigh.
"Felix, you think a woman did it?" Mike blurts and i leave not even caring about the rest of the news segment.
My mind is racing.
Someone killed him.
Someone hid him.
It's murder. No doubt.
I have to see the body.
Mike and Felix will know it too, just like I do.
"Uncle Ty, you're crashing here tonight". I say absently. "Felix, we'll go to the hospital in the morning. Get your beauty sleep."
Still deep in thought, I wander off to prepare Uncle Ty's room, not realizing Felix has followed me.
The guest rooms are always spotless thanks to Lilith, Charlz, and occasionally Mike and me. Felix is a lazy bum.
As I absentmindedly fluff the pillows, Felix speaks up behind me:
"You knew him, didn't you?"
I freeze. I compose myself within 5 seconds before speaking. "Knew who?"
I feign ignorance.
"The man that was reported dead on the news". He walks over to the other side of the room to clean the shelf.
"What makes you think that?" I ask, voice calm, unreadable.
"You looked like a ghost when you saw the news. Or you were pissed but you mostly looked shocked and terrified. You probably knew him."
Felix is being a little too chirpy today.
"Someone was murdered on my turf, Felix. Of course I'm pissed."
I turn back to the pillows.
He doesn't stop. "Did you notice? The same cut on the abdomen of the guy you brought home... it's the same cut that was barely visible through the shirt of the dead man. Could mean two things: one, the dead guy was one of the attackers, and his death is for revenge. Two, both men knew each other and are being targeted by the same person."
I sigh. Should've known Felix would connect the dots.
"You're right. Mostly. It's not the second option though," I tell him. What's the point of hiding it from him. I would've told him eventually and Mike too. I just wanted to find out everything first. I've been stressing them lately.
He looks at me curiously.
"The dead guy? He is one of the goons who beat up the man I rescued. They aren't friends. They're enemies."
Felix, unsurprisingly, shows no reaction.
Instead, he just helps me finish preparing the room.
"Do you know him personally?" he asks.
"The guy I rescued? No," I say casually.
"Then why were you crying last night? And why did his injuries frustrate you so much?"
Damn. He really wasn't going to let it go. I should've known when he started getting all chirpy.
I flash him a small smile. "I cried because I pitied him. His injuries were bad. That's all. You're overthinking." He really is overthinking it. I also don't know why I cried so much last night. It's something I have never done. Crying over a stranger just because he is being beaten to death. See, it's just pity.
Without waiting for a reply, I leave him to finish up and head back to the sitting room.
Uncle Ty needs to check on the guy anyway. The one I brought home.
"Uncle Ty, time for the checkup," I announce.
The living room's pretty chill — Lilith, Charlz, Mike, and Uncle Ty. Uncle Ty is eating the coconut barfi I murdered
Charlz is busy schooling Mike again. Typical.
I don't stay to watch. I'm already halfway to the guest room. The one the mysterious guy is accompanying to recuperate.
"I wonder if he's awake," I murmur as I walk.
I hear footsteps behind me — Mike and Uncle Ty. They're coming.
My heart's hammering so loud I glance down at my chest.
"Hey, are you about to burst or something? Chill," I whisper to my hammering heart.
Before I can think twice, the door swings open and i am being yanked inside.
The door slams and locks with a click.
And next thing I know, there's a fucking gun pointed straight at the back of my flippin head. I hear the clink of the gun, an unmistakable sound meaning the weapon is ready to fire.
"Put your fucking hands up and don't move unless you want me to blow your fucking brains out," a voice growls.
I hear it then—the deepest, thickest, yet somehow most seductive voice I've ever encountered. It doesn't sound like those men with deep voices in depressing Korean dramas. No, his voice is the kind described in fictional books — the ones you think can't possibly exist in reality. His voice sounds so perfect, it almost feels unreal.
I swallow hard, because, as usual, I am about to disobey a direct warning.
I will definitely turn to look at him. Just incase, RIP Rhea Patel. But if I actually die, I'll haunt this man for life.
I have to move swiftly — fast enough so he doesn't get a chance to blow my brains out. I have no doubt he would pull the trigger if he wanted to and honestly, I don't want to die yet. Especially since I haven't found Kaden yet.
I turn so fast, I don't even see the handle of the Glock swinging toward my head.
The impact comes hard and sudden, exploding through my skull with a splitting headache that rockets through my brain. There's no doubt — my skin is torn, and blood is already seeping from the wound. My head jerks violently to the right from the force of the hit, but it's the left side of my head that hurts like hell.
It isn't my first time, though. The pain, although intense, is bearable.
I ignore the throbbing, bleeding ache and look up at the man who dared to hit Rhea Patel.
The simple act of looking up earns me a hand around my throat. This man was definitely not bluffing.
"Don't you understand? Don't fucking move," he says again, his grip tightening around my neck. I might be dying right now but at least I got to see the face of my murderer.
I might be starting to feel dizzy — the edges of my vision blurring slightly, but I ignore it.
Instead, I stare at the guy cutting off my air supply. Sweet Jesus, he is handsome up close. Up close, as in, he is the man I brought home last night. When I saw him yesterday I thought he was handsome. Now he looks more handsome and he is still dressed the same way. He has been cleaned up though. His breath is minty. Charlz probably cleaned him up. Or he did himself—seeing he is able to carry a glock.
How is he still so active and strong in this state?
I study him for a few seconds longer, despite the ache in my head and the lack of oxygen. His face is almost painfully beautiful — and now that I'm close enough, I notice even more. The way he is overshadowing me.
He's much taller than I am.
I'm 5'7, and he looks like a solid 6'4.
And then there are the muscles — not the ridiculous, cartoonish kind, but muscle in all the right places. Everything about him is perfectly proportioned. Not that I am lean. I have one of those thick figures. So I have enough meat to make me look anything but lean.
I manage to squeeze out the words, voice strained, "Is this how you thank the person that saved you from dying?" It's a surprise I haven't fainted yet.
I notice his pupils dilate slightly as he stares at me, studying me, just as I am studying him. He quickly masks his surprise.
I can feel the difference between us, his sheer size, his strength.
And somewhere deep inside my oxygen-starved brain, a ridiculous, traitorous thought sneaks in—He's just right.
What the hell do I even mean by just right?
Help. I think my brain is fried.
"What do you mean by saved me?". Did he lose part of his memory or something? Has he forgotten he got beaten up badly yesterday?
"Did you forget you got beaten up yesterday? I rescued you after the three goons left". He looks at me realisation finally settling in.
"I don't remember anyone helping me. Are you lying?" He squeezes tighter, my eyes almost rolling to the back.
"If I was lying how did I know about what happened". I swear i will pass out if he doesn't allow me breathe.
Just on cue, he releases me and I suck in as much air as I can. "How did you even see us, are you a cop?"
A cop? That's even worse. He could've said FBI. But no, a cop. I'll kill this ungrateful freak.
"Will you release me already?". He releases me but keeps the gun pointed at me.
"Answer my questions and I won't kill you. Who are you? Where the fuck am I? How did you see what happened last night? Why did you help me and why didn't you take me to a hospital?"
That is a lot of questions.
I am still coughing from being choked, my eyes red. I take my time and greedily suck in as much air as I can. He better not complain about taking time to answer him. If not I'll scream like a banshee till his ears bleed.
After regulating my breathing, I finally reply.
"I am freaking lawyer. You are in my villa. I was returning from the court after winning another case and saw you getting beaten up. I helped you because my conscience has manners. I didn't take you to an hospital because it would be crowded". I reply, not giving more than what was asked.
He finally looks at me with less... contempt. "If I drop the gun, you'll attack me and keep me locked up. I am fine with us talking without violence but I have a feeling you would want to get your revenge for hitting and choking you".
Smart.
"Promise you won't retaliate once I drop the gun. We'll talk without violence and I might consider cleaning your head for you" he offers.
"There's no bullet in that gun. I did keep at least a gun in each room in the villa. I didn't load some though. Most especially the guns in the guest rooms on this floor. The gun in your hand isn't loaded. If I wanted violence, I would've attacked the moment I felt you point it at me. So drop the flipping gun."
He looks at me for a second and raises a brow at me, obviously impressed. Finally, he throws the gun and takes slow steps towards me. He isn't limping. He is hiding his pain and is walking slowly, trying to show dominance. Not in my fucking villa.
I keep my head up, walk towards the bed and sit on it. When he reaches me, he remains standing. I don't look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me as I bring out the first aid box.
"Rhea. What are you doing, let me in." Oh shit. I forgot I asked Uncle Ty to come check up on him. If I tell him to go back now, he will without questioning me. He definitely will later though. If I don't reply, they'll break down the door. I can't go for the latter.
"Uncle Ty, could you give me a few minutes. I'll be out soon". He takes a few seconds to reply but still leaves. "Okay" he says before leaving with Mike hopefully.
All the while, the mysterious man still had his eyes on me. He still has his eyes on me. Still standing.
"Take a fucking seat would you. You're not fully healed".
Surprisingly, he obeys and settles on the sofa by the wall.
"What happened to the goons. You got them arrested?" He speaks first. Why is that the first thing he is asking of.
"No, they ran away" I clean my wound while contemplating if I should tell him about the dead one, he might know what killed him. I look at him nodding his head, looking at his feet. He seems lost in thought.
"But..." he raises his head up to look at me, as if he expected the but.
"One was found dead this morning. It was announced on the news. I saw it less than thirty minutes ago".
He looks up at me, his face blank. Did he expect it?
"Okay". That's all.
I stare at him for a few seconds because honestly, I am speechless. Just okay.
Two minutes of silence and I finally settle for asking his name. He can't be the only one asking the questions.
"What's your name?"
"Drystain"
"Drystain what"
"Drystain Lorenzo"