9

“What were you thinking?” Kaloaan asks me. “A god damn Bansilin shipment? What’s wrong with you?”

“I told you,” I groan. “I didn’t know it was Bansilin.”

“Yeah. Sure. Of course, you just randomly break into some underground bunker thing and steal a couple boxes that just so happen to be Bansilin?”

I’m sitting with Deqar in my brother’s office, sitting across from him on the other side of his desk, Firida standing next to him, with a stone chiseled poker face. “I found dad,” I say.

Kaloaan looks up at me. “What? Where?”

“Remember that twat, Zorikan? Yeah, he got him. Stole him right out of the apartment. He captured me again right after I went to check on mom and used dad to blackmail me into stealing that shit for him.”

Kaloaan raises an eyebrow. “And you?” he asks, looking at Deqar. “You work for him.”

Deqar nods, keeping his eyes fixed on his hands, picking at his nails.

Kaloaan sighs. “We’ve got a lead. That’s good. Can you get us a location?”

Deqar shakes his head.

Kaloaan’s hands slam down on the desk, making me jolt with surprise. “Let’s try this again. Give me a location.”

A faint smile crawls onto Deqar’s face. “Even if I do, you’ll go there and find it empty. As soon as Zorikan knows we’ve been captured, which has already happened, he’ll relocate. Torture me if you want to, I can give you the previous address, but it’ll do you no good.”

Kaloaan grits his teeth. “Kallix, what does Zorikan look for in a base of operation?”

“The one I was in… was like an empty office building. It’s ideal for a gang of thieves.”

“Ok. Ok, there can’t be that many empty multifloored buildings in the city. Scour all of them. I want teams everywhere.” Kaloaan barks orders into his earpiece as he walks out of the office, leaving us with Firida.

“You left out the part about your dad being shot,” Deqar mumbles. “Why?”

“I don’t want to see him angry. It’s… not a nice sight,” I mutter. “He might kill somebody.”

Deqar laughs. “Rieka? Of course. Why didn’t I see it?”

I huff.

“Both of you, shut up,” Firida orders, looking at us like she just bought us from a butchery. “You’re under suspicion of doing the illegal opioid, Bansilin, thus we are required to run the mandatory tests on you.”

“Test away,” I snarl.

Grell and another cop I haven’t seen yet get us off our chairs and force us down the hall and into a police car. Firida drives with Grell in the shotgun, while Deqar, I and the other cop cram into the back. We pull over at the hospital, the one I had recently paid a visit to and bundle out. We’re forced into a doctors room, blood samples are taken, and taken to a waiting room.

I laugh at the awkwardness of us in the waiting room with a couple other unrelated patients casting us worried looks. Deqar and I, both of us who don’t look like very normal people, cuffed with three cops waiting for our results to come in.

I lean over to Firida. “Hey, don’t you find it odd, how we found some giant underground contraption thingy, and you guys are worried about whether or not we did drugs?” I ask her with a giggle.

“Further investigations will be conducted to testify the validity of your claims,” she replies autonomously.

“What do you think that was?” I ask Deqar.

“What do I look like, a conspiracy theorist?” he snarks.

“Jeez,” I breath.

“Hi ma’am. The results are in,” a nurse says, approaching Firidah apprehensively.

Firida nods and takes two sheets of paper, then compares them. She nods, and signals for Grell and his playmate to haul us back into the car. She mumbles something inaudible into her earpiece as we reach the police building, and brought back in, where Kaloaan intercepts us. He grabs me by the wrist and says, “Regular protocol, to Firida, who nods and pulls Deqar in a different direction.

“Hey. Hey! Where are you taking him!” I shout, squirming against my brother’s iron grip.

Kaloaan yanks me back into his office.

“What the hell? Where did she take him?”

My brother pinches the bridge of his nose. At least he also gets headaches. “Deqar’s results came back positive.”

I’m stunned. “Oh…shit.”

“You just… can’t trust anybody nowadays,” he breathes.

I nod. “So… can I go?”

He grimaces, and his forehead wrinkles as he thinks about what to say. “You’ve been hanging around the wrong crowd…”

“What the hell?” I shout. “You think I did that voluntarily?”

“No. No, I’m sorry. It’s just, you performed an illegal brake in to this… underground factory, or whatever it was, not to mention the convenience store.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I can’t believe this,” I breathe, exasperated. “I freaking turned myself in for christ’s sake.”

“I know,” Kaloaan cringed. “And I’m arranging to pay for your bail…”

“Why the hell is that necessary?” I cry out.

“There’re just a couple complications I need to deal with first.”

“What, so I’m going to be locked up?”

He looks up at me pleadingly. “Only until I sort this out.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Kallix I’m being sued. People, owners of all the places you’ve caused mayhem, are suing me. You’re my brother, so it’s obvious that they think I’m being biased to your charges.”

I stare at him blankly.

“Kallix I’m sorry. It won’t be more than a day.”

“You know I can just bust out of here. Right here, right now.”

“That’s why your cuffed.”

“Then freaking uncuff me!” I holler, slamming my shackled wrists down on the desk and knocking over a pen holder. It clatters to the ground, two pens falling out. A blue puddle of ink pools around them.

“I’m sorry, Kallix,” Kaloaan says again, averting my gaze.

Grell walks in and places his gorilla hands on my shoulders.

“Screw you!” I holler. “Damn you and your god damn lust for rules and law!”

Grell drags me out of the office, while Kaloaan holds his stare at the pens, lying beside his desk. How had they managed to break from such a small fall. He picks up both pens, laying them on his handkerchief, but the blue ink stains remain on his hands.

~

The worst part about being in a cell is purely the white walls. There’s nothing to look at. There’s nothing to do. There’s brain stimulation whatsoever, besides counting how many pushups I can do before I collapse from exhaustion or how long I can dig my fingernails into the skin on my forearm before I start to bleed.

I’d planned to escape as soon as I was brought in and laugh as I think about what my brother’s face would look like. As a kid, I’d seen so many damn online videos about how people escaped from prison using the most unfathomable tactics, like digging themselves out with a spoon. Problem is, I’ve got no spoon. I’m in a white box, with glossy white walls on three sides, and a plexiglass wall facing the hallway, with a single sliding door. There’s literally nothing around me. Not even a bloody window. The only tarnish to the pure whiteness is a couple stains my dirty shoes made, and a tiny air vent at the top of the wall. Problem is, it’s so small, I wouldn’t even be able to fit my head in, if I was able to wall jump up like a ninja. Which I would probably be able to.

I paint little stickmen on the floor with the blood that drips from my forearm. It’s true that pain is better than boredom. At least for a wolf. Maybe not for a sheep. When I was younger, I read a story about a fox who was caught in a beartrap. He grew hungry and tired, but not for long. Eventually, his other fox friends found him, and brought him food and water. He was no longer hungry for food, but his heart was hungry for wind against his fur. For the scent of living prey in his nose. To be rid of the stench of sleeping near his own urine. The fox, though it was living well, could not bear his relative captivity anymore. To escape, he chewed off his entire leg, rather than starving to death. I was that fox. All of us are that fox. Except we’re born with the bear trap on our legs. To chew it off, is to lose many things, like our wealth, our social status, our security, and often many of our friends and family. Not many of us are ready. Not many of us think that sleeping in our own piss a bad trade off. Not many of us are like me.

But right now, each of my legs has been caught, with large metallic teeth digging into my flesh with spells of monotony and boredom. They’re poisoned, and the toxic fluid churns in my veins, fighting a battle against my soul. Against my will. Against me as a whole. What makes me up. Everything that isn’t flesh, blood, bones, skin, muscle, or anything made of cells. What’s left after you strip away all the cells, that’s what fights the battle. That’s what needs to be strong.

I find myself giving rolling punches to the white wall until it’s stained with the blood of my knuckles. The physical wounds of a mental battle.

The door slides open, and I cast a forlorn look through between the long dark locks covering my eyes.

“You’re free. Now get your filthy ass out of here before I lock you up myself.” Firida stands, leaning against the doorway, loudly chewing gum and looking at me with impatience.

I slip my shades over my red rimmed eyes and walk over to her. A caged wolf to its capturer.

“Your brother couldn’t bear to see you,” she says. “Too soft if you ask me. He needs to learn how to be harden himself. He’s got to if he wants to take care of an animal like you.”

I shove past her, a low growl escaping my throat. I walk out the prison like a zombie. A zombie with a purpose. Images pass me in a blur. I blink. It almost feels like I’ve been drugged. I stumble and grip my head. It’s not exactly a headache, more like a heavy cloud where my brain should be. A cloud that’s too big to fit in my skull.

A person is standing before me. I stop and squint. It’s dark, and I’m wearing sunglasses. Not the best combination. Then a short breath of surprise escapes me.

Tauren stand before me, hands held together. She wears a green skirt the complements her hair and eye color, as well as low black heels. Her red lipstick is evident, along her heavy layer of makeup. She looks me in the eye.

When I don’t speak, she opens her mouth. “I heard you were in jail, so I came to visit you. I didn’t bring any flowers, but I figured you’d just thrown them away,” she gives a little, half hearted laugh.

I hold my one, dangling arm with my other hand like an awkward teenager about to ask out his crush. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ran. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry…”

She sighs. “Don’t be. We did the same thing Kallix. Both of us ran like cowards. We’re not too different. You don’t have to apologize.”

A knot builds in my throat. Why couldn’t she have been mad? Why couldn’t she have slapped me and punched me and kicked me? I blink and force the water damn in my brain to hold strong.

But it isn’t me who erupts. Tauren sinks into me, shuddering with loud sobs.

I wrap my arms around her and hug her close, resting her head over my shoulder and stroking my her back. “Kallix,” she sobs. “Wesslin. They shot him. They shot my husband,” she cries.

My breaths turn shaky, as the two of us slouch against the wall of the end of the police building. “Is… is he… dead?” I ask.

She swallows. “He’s… braindead,” she chokes.

No. No that’s worse than death.

Her tears fall onto Rieka’s hoodie, as she puller herself closer to me. I hug her tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, Tauren. You… you don’t deserve this.”

She wails, clutching my hair and shaking with sobs. Minutes pass and a light drizzle falls as I hold her until my shoulder is wet and she has black streaks down her cheeks. “I know… who it was,” she whispers, trying to speak through her tight throat and runny nose.

I look at her through my rain tangled locks. I’m glad she can’t see my eyes. “Who shot Wesslin?”

She nods. “They were paid. They junkies were paid.”

I lean into her. “By who?”

“Kallix you have to help me. Please Kallix. You’re the only person I can trust with this information.”

“Who? Who was it?”

“Kallix please,” she wails.

“I’ll help you. I need to know who it was,” I urge.

She sniffs again. “A mafia group. Working closely with the Bansilin manufacturers and snuffing out any influential people who are against it. Led by a woman named Qiara Delakrinus.”

“Ok. It’s ok,” I sooth. “What do you want me to do? How can I help?”

Tauren erupts into tears again.

“Hey, what is it? What can I do? You need to talk to me.”

“Kill her, Kallix. Please,” she tells me, staring me directly in the eye. “Please, Kallix.”

I’m frozen.

“Kallix please. I’m… I’m begging you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t kill people. You know that.”

“Kallix please!” she wails. “She destroyed me! She took the only thing I ever loved away. Please Kallix, I’m your friend. You…”

I stand up. “I’m sorry, Tauren,” I tell her over my shoulder.

“Kallix?”

I stride away into the dimly lit street.

“Kallix please!” she cries.

I don’t turn back. I don’t say anything. I just walk forwards. Like a shark, I move onwards. Like a shark, I need to keep myself alive before others. Like a shark, survival, above all, is my first instinct.