17 MAY, 2017

  SIX MONTHS AGO

  Cyan always loved the colour green. It was a shame she couldn't wear it often considering her wardrobe mostly consisted of blues and blacks. But whenever she had the opportunity to dress the way she wanted, she would search for something green because she loved the way her skin complemented the colour. She appreciated how it represented life, one thing that she often witnessed the loss of more than she needed to. She always had loving disagreements with Nathan about what the colour stood for. She believed it was the breathing aliveness of all entities of life. He argued that it was the colour blue that represented life, which Cyan agreed was accurate to some degree. Though, she believed that the existence of it was different. Blue was the beginning of life and green represented the continuation of it. Being born wasn't a choice anyone made but carrying on when the odds were stacked against you was what Cyan believed required true strength.

  That was the reason she wore fern that day, in a low-cut top with an open back and flared sleeves.

  Flared sleeves she felt someone drag downwards in a frantic motion. The pressure that it had on her arm did not have as much of an effect as the yelling of her name in her ear. She even felt the splashes of wet residue she surmised was saliva in her right hearing side, snapping her out of her stillness.

  She didn't remember how long she had been frozen. Two seconds. Three seconds. Five minutes, perhaps. It was too long a reaction taking into account that she had heard five consecutive gunshots only a few miles away from her. In any professional case, her firearm would've been in her hand, senses alert and proficient. But in this setting, where she was in the Headquarters' kitchen helping Blas and his catering staff with snacks for the Open Day, she didn’t think she would need it rendering her numb.

  Cyan's initial thought when she heard the violently loud disturbance the first time was why the senior students in charge of releasing the fireworks did so too early. She paused shoving the lettuce in the bird-shaped bread and stood on the tips of her toes to look outside the window adjacent to the wall. No fireworks. The sky was clear as ever, no cloud in sight. After double-checking the blue airspace for any firecrackers she probably missed, she stood in her position behind the counter with confusion settling in her mind like a new tenant.

  When she heard the sound for the second time and the third, she quickly untied her apron and charged towards the transparent sliding doors to follow the noise. Before she reached them, she heard the noise for the fourth time, shocking her immediately in her tracks. It took the fifth noise for Cyan to realize that she wasn't hearing fireworks but deafening gunshots discharged from a Glock 17C Generation 4.

  The sound should've been familiar to her as she could recognize the sound in her sleep. As well as the fact that it was used frequently by Agents daily. That could’ve explained why she took too long to react. She was so used to the sound that she was desensitised to it.

  There was something about that day in May. She was so out of her work element, consumed by the beautiful atmosphere and the fact that she didn't have to worry about anything besides inserting the right toppings on Blas's pizza.

  "Cyan! Cyan! Cy!" she had heard a voice scream her name.

  She felt someone pull her top, shaking her to wake up from the still state she was in.

  That was when she finally regained her sense of mind, all the commotion that was happening around her filling her ears with such ferocity. From Agents running and pushing past, leaving the kitchen to Medical Aid running across the fields pushing stretchers.

  The scene unfolding in front her was too real. And confusing. There had been a shooting on SSU grounds? How? Who? Why?

  She figured she didn't have the time to find out because she had to find her siblings and take them to a safe place.

  She burst out of the kitchen, straight into the commotion of Agents escorting parents and children inside the headquarters. She looked for Nala and Omari within the crowds that were herded inside the giant edifice but didn't see any pitch-black curls or a black crew cut on two twelve-year olds. It then occurred to Cyan that Mari had left with Dave to play games on his game buddy in his office so she knew he was safe.

  But where was Nala? Cyan remembered her younger sister asking for her permission to leave with a group of tourists that was planning on visiting the Corridor of Blooming Flowers near the entrance gate. It quickly came back to Cyan that she had agreed to that and she ran towards that direction.

  Sixth gunshot.

  Cyan sprinted and pushed people out of the way to get to her sister. But she probably didn't have to. Whomever was giving the tour obviously removed everyone and took them to safety. The hope almost slowed her down but she kept going. She just had to see for herself that Nals was out of the danger zone. She had to have her hand in hers to know that she was okay.

  Nearing the Corridor, Cyan's eyes found Chad, one of the Agents who volunteered to show around some of the touring groups. Maybe he had seen her sister. She wanted to run to him and ask him if he had seen Nala but his shirt soaked in blood stopped her from doing that. Because he ran across the fields with urgency, Cyan noticed that he wasn't injured in any way.

  The blood wasn't his.

  It made Cyan sick to her stomach. That meant his blood could be anyone else's. It could've been-

  "Cyan!" she heard someone call from behind her.

  Her heavy-breathing boyfriend stopped in front of her, eyes full of panic.

  "Cyan. Are you okay?" Nathan asked as he physically checked her for any injuries.

  "I'm fine." Cyan replied with a ball in her throat. "Nala. I can't find her. Help me."

  Nathan began to run, hand on Cyan's back ushering her forward. Not that she needed the motivation to find her sister but Nathan did that when he needed Cyan to calm down. And oddly, it worked every time.

  Just not that day.

  They neared the Corridor of Blooming Flowers, her heart beating faster and faster as they approached. The commotion she found in the fields when she was still in the kitchen was unlike the commotion she found under the flowering trees. The corridor seemed to be the center of all the chaos that was taking place. The noise, the medical stretchers and all the wailing and weeping emanating from that beautiful hall.

  "Nala!" Cyan called out above the noise. "Nal!"

  "Nala!" Nathan called.

  It wasn't until she called for the second time that she heard a woman screaming. She shrieked at the top of her lungs that it shook Cyan to her bones.

  "Uncle!" the woman continued to cry.

  Cyan and Nathan followed the noise. They ran into the corridor and that was when Cyan saw him, limb on a stretcher with bullet in his neck. She heard Nathan take in an uneven breath. He didn't expect to walk into what they did; Donna in tears and snot, her body huddled on top of her uncle's limb one on a stretcher.

  "Go to her." Cyan ordered Nathan.

  He hesitated for a moment but understood that his childhood friend needed him because her uncle had been killed.

  Cyan continued running, the warm wind carrying her tears as it blew past her. She was now terrified. The scenes in front of her had sent ice down her spine. She couldn't count the number of medics in her view because they were crawling under the trees like ants on a hill. On the ground lay still bodies snuffed out of life, some alive but injured and others beside their loved ones that had been incapacitated.

  She began to feel fury. What the hell had happened here and who was responsible? Why did she let Nala out of her sight? She could've been cutting sandwiches with her. Why wasn't she with her?

  As she was beating herself up, Cyan's eyes met Chad again, back under the trees, rocking a body back and forth. Because Chad's back was to her, she couldn't see who it was because of the direction he was kneeling. She briskly walked over to him because it seemed as though he needed some help. Plus, she had gathered the strength to ask him if her sister was in his tour group. She just wanted to find Nala.

  Cyan stopped.

  The body Chad was rocking back and forth wore hot pink Addidas sneakers with white sequence glitters pinned all over them.

  Cyan bought those same sequence shoes for Nala after she relentlessly begged her.

  Cyan swallowed her tight throat. She bolted over to her fellow Agent to see voluminous black curls in his arms, blood flowing on the ground as if a rock had been removed from a waterfall stream.

  Chad looked up at her from the ground, where he was, with tears and sorrow in his eyes. He opened his mouth and shut it. He opened it again and the words barely came out of him. But Cyan heard them.

  I'm so sorry.

  Cyan didn't hear anything else after that. Cyan couldn't hear anything else after that. Her world had shattered into a million different pieces, plummeting towards her and scathing every part of her skin. She felt as if her heart had been sliced by a knife and her veins hauled in different directions like a puppet. Cyan didn't have any control of her body but her weakened knees found their way to the grass beside her baby sister.

  Her hand shook as it travelled to the gunshot wound on the left side of her chest, scared to worsen what had already taken place. Instead, she shook her sister frantically, hoping she would open her big, brown eyes and look up at Cyan.

  "Nala." Cyan whispered. "Nala, wake up, honey."

  She shook her again and again and again.

  "Nala.'' Cyan called on her sister desperately when her eyes didn't show so much as a flutter.

  ''Nala. Come on." she sobbed. "Nala."

  And again.

  ‘’Nala. Wake up.’'

  "Cyan." Chad called softly. "The bullet penetrated her heart. I'm sorry but she-"

  "Shut up!" Cyan shouted at Chad aggressively. "My sister came here to watch the birds and the flowers! She didn't come here to die!"

  She continued to shake Nala, cupping her face, opening her eyes and pushing her hair backwards.

  "Nal! What the hell? Wake up!" Cyan cried. "Nala, please!"

  Her sister didn't move one inch.

  "Nala, no. No." Cyan wailed, her head buried in her sister's bloody nape.

  "Cy." she heard Chad call her. "They have to take her."

  "No." she whispered. "No."

  Suddenly, she felt her hands on her waist, dragging her away from her sister.

  "No!" Cyan shrieked. "Leave me alone!"

  She couldn't see clearly because the tears clouded her eyes but her vision was clear enough to tell her that a medic lifted her sister, put her in a cadaver bag and was in the process of closing it.

  "No!" Cyan cried as she tried to shake free from the hands that were holding her. "Leave her alone! Nala!"

  In that moment, Cyan had no idea what to do with herself. She wanted to punch something, hit it to let out everything that was happening within her. It was as if her heart was sinking further and further into a darkness she couldn't comprehend the more the medic closed the bag. All she could do was scream.

  And she did.

  She screamed.

  And screamed.

  Nala.

  My baby sister.

  Nal.

  Don't do this.

  It was when they took her away on a stretcher that she sunk her head into whomever was holding her. She didn't know who it was and she didn't care. A piece of herself had been ripped away from her without her approval.

  She held onto whomever was caging her until her mind eventually shut down and she lost consciousness.

  ******

  The feeling of solving a case always lifted a weight off of Cyan's shoulders. She felt lighter than a cumulus cloud and for some time, she would soak in her achievements. Investigating and solving a mystery was intensely draining and mentally strenuous that when it was all over, in those few moments before she received a new case, air was breathable again. The excitement of laying her head down to rest consumed her and relief kept pouring out of her with no limit.

  Seeing George in custody did not feel like that.

  In truth, seeing him through the clear window seated on his metal seat behind the metal table caused Cyan's nervous system to react. It couldn't have been this easy to arrest him, she thought, let alone keep him in the interrogation room.

  His arrest was simple, she’d heard. She hastily arrived at the police station with Evan after leaving William at Benscliffe. They were told by some officers that George was compliant and more than willing to be plugged into custody. Near the water fountain by the front desk, Cyan found Jordan regurgitating the events that had transpired to Nathan and Donna who seemingly, had just arrived as well. Cyan managed a double take when she witnessed Donna standing a few feet away from Nathan.

  Why was she here? Her office was two hours away in London. When did she arrive?

  Cyan couldn't think of any reason except that perhaps she had new information regarding the case. Cyan resolved that she would find out her reason for being at the police station at a later stage. In the meantime, she would try and avoid her in hopes of not engaging in any awkward conversations.

  Being in the Leicester Police Department more times than she could count, Cyan knew where the interrogation room was located and decided to walk down its specific hall to assess the state of George's arrest.

  She entered the last room in the hallway to her right. It was spacious room covered in dark paint with a window owning a very long exterior on the other side. There was a door adjacent to the wide window that would've led Cyan inside the second room but she remained in the first. She walked in to two officers chatting silently. They acknowledged her presence by smiling and nodding towards her and she did the same to them. Once she had taken in her environment, she focused her attention on the window.

  Behind it were these penetrative blue eyes that did not allow any emotion to escape out of them. They were surveying the room until they stopped and rested on the window with great nonchalance. They drilled holes into the opaque glass that Cyan was convinced George genuinely didn't care about his whereabouts.

  Most police stations adopted a Clear and Release tactic. The purpose was to undo the feathers of the accused before questioning. The more time they spent alone before the investigative process, the more anxiety set in, causing them to lose composure and sing the truth. The window aided in this behavioral tactic because the accused seated for questioning was behind a one-way glass. He or she couldn't see outside of their reflection. Usually, the person inside the Interrogation Room believed that there were other eyes on him he couldn't see and this further helped with receiving the truth.

  In George's case, placing him in the Interrogation room made no difference because he had no feathers to be ruffled. He looked too indifferrent, without a care about his current surroundings and he seemed too calm for someone who had just held the Minister hostage. This prompted Cyan to look at him closely.

  An advantage of the window was that Cyan or anyone on other side of the window could see what was in the plain room clearly. She was free to analyze him thoroughly and she noted that there was something that was incredibly and eerily unique about the man in the other room and yet so familiar. He reminded her of powerful business moguls whose postures did not lower or curve, carrying the weight generational wealth on their backs.

  George Campbell wore a navy-blue suit that did not spot a single crease, a chalk-white shirt that popped out evenly and neatly out of his blazer, a crumpled, satin handkerchief that revealed part of itself from the left pocket of his suit jacket and cufflinks bearing a striking resemblance to real gold that Cyan considered looking twice just to make sure.

  His hair, which caught Cyan's attention when she first laid her eyes on him, was a net full of grey strands. It didn't tell his age because he looked relatively young for a man in his forties, but Cyan guessed he changed its colour to a grey-white. The colour was rich, the hair full of life that Cyan couldn't imagine the man in front of her looking like anything besides how he did. He had some unique features besides his hair that she couldn't help but notice; his nose for one. All around it were freckles scattered over it. They spread out across his cheeks, some reaching both his ears. His cheekbones sat comfortably on the upper part of his face, bone structure sharp as a knife, shaping his face.

  Cyan was stunned to say the least. What was a man like that sitting in a police station due to his own doing? He seemed so put together that a prison slum was the furthest place from where he was supposed to be. Taking all this into consideration, Cyan began to worry. What was the endgame here? Was he planning on bombing the place? What damage did he want to do inside that he couldn't do outside?

  Before her mind raced further, Cyan heard the door open.

  "The Minister is fine." she heard a very familiar voice behind her. Cyan turned around to attach the voice to a face.

  "Yes, Director Xavier. I understand that very well." Dave O'Connor expressed.

  Behind him walked Jordan, followed by Evan, a stout man who she remembered as Sergeant Bruce and lastly, Nathan.

  "We have him in custody at the moment. He hasn't been questioned yet." Dave answered into his phone.

  Nathan walked over to Cyan near the window and stood beside her whilst the other boys engaged in a very low conversation with the Sergeant a few feet to her left.

  "Well Sir, the Minister and his family are in protective custody. He is being questioned as we speak." Dave answered into the phone as he walked towards the last wall of the room.

  Cyan thought back to when they left William at the James household. He had managed to send his family over to Protection. Cyan let out an inward sigh of relief. This meant that Susan and Lucas were safe. They weren't touched by George Campbell.

  "What are you thinking about?" Cyan heard Nathan ask her as he bumped his shoulders softly with hers.

  She had been a bit quiet, taking in everything that was going on around them.

  She answered, "Well, I'm thinking about how about our murderous psychopath in the other room."

  "I'm thinking about it too." Nathan responded gravely. "All this energy we use to deal with these criminals makes feel peckish."

  Cyan snorted. It felt wrong given where they were but she couldn't help it.

  "Peckish?" she repeated.

  "I mean, I wouldn’t mind sitting down for a meal." Nathan said.

  "Should we sneak out and get some wings?" Cyan laughed.

  Spicy chicken wings were always Nathan's comfort food. He always had them when he was in a stressful situation or whenever he was happy. The familiarity of them always removed him from a bad mood or maintained his good one. Cyan found it funny because that delicacy seemed to make him happy in ways that she never could.

  "I say we should. We should just leave this place and drive to the restaurant and hide there whilst we wait for something to eat." Nathan joked.

  "We should take Sergeant Bruce's cruiser. If we activate the blue siren, it'll get us there faster." Cyan added.

  "Good thinking." Nathan chuckled. "In fact, I drove there two weeks ago and apparently they brought back that chocolate cake you love. So, we might need more than a siren. Maybe a convoy."

  "Wait, what? You mean to say that I can go to Awesome Chips and order the Divine Decker Dessert Promise Cheese Cake?" Cyan chortled with excitement.

  "Yeah." Nathan laughed. "You can order the Divine Decker…Cheese Promise Dessert. Or whatever it's called."

  "Oh." Cyan mused. "I cannot believe it! Chocolate cheese cake. It is the perfect ending to any meal."

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  "Uhm, no. Chocolate sucks. Don't get me started on cheese. Now, if you infuse those two together-disastrous.” Nathan refused.

  "You can’t hate chocolate cheese cake if you haven't tasted it." Cyan reasoned. "And they don't use your traditional gouda and cheddar. It's a mixture of fresh cheese, some ricotta cream cheese and cottage cheese. Just imagine sitting in a coffee shop, having a slice in a small saucer with beautiful view, accompanied by a cup of strong expresso. I just-ugh! All this talk of cheesecake is making me salivate." Cyan fantasized.

  "I'd hate to be the end of the fork you use." Nathan mocked.

  Cyan gasped. "Shut up!" she laughed as she playfully nudged Nathan.

  "Your love for it confuses me." he said once he regained his balance.

  "You wouldn't understand because you have no taste." Cyan returned.

  Nathan laughed. "I do have taste. I just hate confectionery."

  'Would you like to explain the difference? Because there seems to be none." Cyan giggled.

  Nathan laughed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'll taste it just to show you that the world of sweets and chocolates has no place on this planet."

  "I think you'll love it." Cyan said. “You just have to give it a chance.”

  "Maybe. Maybe not. But I'll make a deal with you." Nathan suggested.

  "I'm listening." Cyan replied.

  "If you are right and I like the double decker, then you have to allow me to take you to dinner." Nathan suggested.

  Cyan breathed a laugh. "And if you're not a fan?"

  "You would have to convince me, right? And what's a better way to do that than to take you to all the cafés until we find the one I do like?" Nathan said.

  "That could take forever." Cyan replied.

  "I don't mind forever." Nathan said smoothly.

  "Alright, alright, alright." Dave interrupted urgently.

  "Jay," he called. "I need SSU eyes on the Clement James questioning. Would you?"

  "Yeah, yeah. Sure." Jordan answered on his way to the door.

  Dave rested his eyes on Cyan for a brief minute. "Nice to see you again, Cy."

  "Dave." she responded.

  "What are we going to do with him?" Evan asked referring to the man in the interrogation room.

  "I have a feeling direct confrontation won't work." Dave answered. "We can't go in there demanding for answers."

  "What is our goal?" Cyan asked. "Do we want a confession? Or do we want to find out why he is really here? Because I'm certain that he wouldn't mind telling us what he did how and he did it."

  "None of our typical interrogative methods will work on him." Sergeant Bruce chimed in. "He is still running on the adrenaline from that stunt he pulled earlier."

  "He is expecting us to barge in there and flood him with questions. And he will have an answer to every single one." Nathan explained. "Our best bet is to give him some more time. His adrenaline will wear off and he'll get bored."

  Cyan digested what was said and it made sense to her. George was expecting them to attack. But only, they had to do it when he least expected it. And that was not to attack at all. Everyone else around them seemed to agree to this suggestion given the nods and the mumbles of agreement, a wave of silence hitting them as it sunk in how great of a task the man in the other room really was.

  "Where is he? That bastard! Where is he?"

  Cyan heard shouting.

  The next few events that happened in the following minutes of that day were too immense for Cyan to comprehend. They were too immense for anyone in that room to comprehend. Cyan was always used to plot twists and theatrical work which was usually exciting, but on that particular day, she wished she had never shown up to the police station with Evan. Against her own will, Cyan remembered every detail of the twenty minutes that altered their lives, starting with the way Minister Clement James stormed into the interrogation room they were all in.

  The wooden door was impelled open.

  "Don't tell me to calm down! Don't you dare! Where is he?" Clement yelled.

  Jordan was right behind a towering, pale man that owned a bold, glimmering head and a belly so large his suit pants started below his stomach.

  He stomped all the way to the second room of the accused, suit jacket flying in the air from all the wind he was collecting and without a second, he pushed the door open until it slammed the wall behind it.

  "No, don't go in there!" Cyan heard the Agents and the policemen around her shout.

  It was futile, in her opinion, because the tomato-colored man was seething so much, saliva foamed on the side of his mouth that no amount of warning could've stopped him.

  "You son of a-!"

  Cyan sprinted to the blue interrogation room as did the rest of the others did to stop a potential assault. When her foot touched the ground, a chill ran down Cyan's spine. She wasn't sure whether it was temperature in the room or whether her sixth sense was warning her about the impending events. She believed it was the latter because in front of her were former brothers who hadn't seen in each other in over ten years with anger brewing in their hearts that with one push, all contents would spill over.

  George wasn't startled by Clement's ruffled nature. In truth, he didn't even blink. He didn't look up. He concentrated on his reflection that if Clement James wasn't shouting on the top of his lungs, Cyan would've been certain that George hadn't heard a word that was being said.

  Clement slammed his hands on the metal table and shouted, "Look at me!"

  The saliva that had formed a cloud on the side of his mouth, escaped in anger and his veins had stretched from his temple to the beginning of his cheek resembling a rope.

  George remained unfazed.

  "Minister, please calm down!" Dave implored as he attempted to deescalate the situation.

  Clement ignored Dave and continued, "You take my child and then you point that thing at me? What did you think was going to happen, huh? You thought you were going to get away with it? I own this city! You can't threaten me in my own city!"

  George's eyes moved slowly from the window to a disarranged Clement but his mouth remained clipped shut.

  Clement began to laugh manically. "Quiet? That's what I thought. You don't have a reason to be a sociopath!"

  George sniffed. The air was pure without any detrimental particles flying around so Cyan was confused why George was motivated to contract his nose. Cyan realized that it was an attempt to appear indifferent in hopes to irritate Clement. The Minister was too angry to notice this and fell into George's trap.

  "Tell me why you took my son!" Clement shouted again.

  Everyone around the two, former friends stood in studded silence. Dave, who previously warned the Minister to calm down, shrunk in his thousand-dollar suit as the speech left him. Nathan, Jordan, and Evan stared at the scene in front of then as if it came out of an action movie and the officers eyed the scene as of it was the first interesting exchange that has ever happened in their station.

  Nobody could stop a play that was already rolling.

  "Answer me, dammit!" The Minister yelled again.

  Clement James breathed in and flared his nose. He wiped his face with his hand in order to smooth all the anger apparent on his face. He couldn't stand still. His chest was moving rapidly up and down that Cyan could almost feel the amount of effort Clement put in order to breathe at a normal rate.

  George cocked his head to the side and measured him from the bald patch on his head to the heel of his shoe with distaste in his eyes.

  "You have a fleck on your right temple." George spoke for the first time. "Take care of that, will you? It's not a pretty sight once it throbs.

  "Good grief!” Clement yelled. He felt for his temple. "That's where you positioned your pistol!"

  George shrugged nonchalantly.

  Clement let out a big breath.

  "My son shouldn't have been a play in your silly game."

  "Game? It was a necessary cause of action." George replied simply as he fixed the handkerchief on his chest pocket.

  "Necessary?" Clement screamed. "My son, Geo! Lucas is my son!"

  George chuckled gently. "Your son? That boy is practically an orphan if he has a father like you. He should spend time with his Uncle Geo and maybe then, he'll know what a true father figure really looks like."

  "You're sick." Clement said quietly.

  "Don't worry about any mental disabilities you may think I have. Your core focus should be watching every word you say to me because as still as I am, I'm a hungry lion surviving on revenge." George replied coldly.

  "Don't tell me you're still mad about that money we took ten years ago! That was not an excuse to harass my family!" Clement shouted.

  "I couldn't care less about the money you stole from me ten years ago even if it aided me to breathe." George said in menacingly low voice. He stared daggers at Clement James. "You took so much more from me when you sent me to jail for more than a decade."

  Clement's expression resembled realization of an era ago, a time that he had long buried. His grey eyes widened and his mouth moved rapidly as if he was shivering. He looked away from George, analyzed those of them that were standing around as spectators and averted his eyes to the tile floor.

  George smiled a small smile. He crossed his right leg over his left leg.

  "You were the one who sent that anonymous tip to the station about our diner." George said confidently.

  Sergeant Bruce gasped dramaically.

  "You were the one who threw me in a pit to rot for rest of my life." George continued. "Everything we worked so hard for found home in the trash, as if it had never existed."

  "We had no choice." Clement muttered.

  "You had a choice. Thomas had a choice." George contested. "And you both made a decision."

  "You used Thom and I, Geo." Clement expressed daringly.

  Cyan noticed the young man from years ago express what he felt he could never have said back then.

  "We didn't want to sell drugs in our diner. We didn't want to clean dirty money either. We just wanted to sell good food and make money for our families the right way. You took that opportunity away from us."

  "You didn't have a problem using the money." George mentioned sardonically.

  "Because I had to pay for my brother's medical bills." Clement cried. "You knew Cliff spent his entire life in a wheelchair and my parents couldn't afford his expenses anymore. You knew that when you left me out of the shares once you calculated that I wasn't spending enough time at the diner. You knew that I was struggling and you still decided to take advantage of me. I decided that I wouldn't be abused by you so, yes. Thomas and I stole all the money from the diner and set you up. We made sure you were working late that night and I only had to walk down the street and ring the police that illegal activities were being run on Saxon Street. I did that and I don't regret it."

  George stood up abruptly and went toe to toe with Clement.

  "That was always your problem, CJ." George reprimanded. "You and Thomas. You were both weak. All you knew how to do was enjoy the money that you didn't lift a finger for. Your brother's illness will never be an excuse for the lazy kind that you are. My own wife was pregnant with my so-"

  For the first time in the confrontation, Cyan noticed a tinge of raw emotion on George's face. He wasn't pretending. When he choked, he showed a sadness, a melancholy he carried in his heart for years.

  "My son." George said quietly.

  And even though Clement showed extreme hatred for George, he shared his sadness.

  "I wasn't there when her soul left her body giving our son his." George breathed. "And that is why I despise you. Not because of the money. Or the decline of our business. But because my own son doesn't know about me because of you. When he looks at me, he sees a monster instead of a father trying to love him. I had no impact on the man he is today. All because of you."

  Clement stared at the floor as if there was heavy metal on his neck keeping his head in that direction. He couldn't look at George because, perhaps, he understood what George said to be true. The guilt was apparent in the way he stood, hands hitting against his thighs nervously. Cyan looked at George who still stared at Clement, eyes unfaltering.

  "Geo." Clement approached cautiously, like a hunter securing an impala in the middle of a desert. "Tell me you didn't do it."

  George sat down.

  "George, tell me that you didn't do it." Clement begged more urgently.

  "Do you believe in hell?" George countered quietly.

  Clement didn't answer.

  "Damaged souls travel there to suffer eternal punishment for the wrong they committed here on earth." George explained. "That's where Thomas Swat belongs. Someone had to do it. It was my responsibility."

  Cyan felt her body rapidly decrease in heat. She wasn't sure if she had heard correctly so she went over what George had said again. He said, verbatim, that it was his responsibility. He sent Director Thomas to hell. He had him killed.

  The next few seconds were a blur for Cyan but when she recovered back to reality, she found her body weight pressing George Campbell to the ground. She heard a collective of voices shout her name, boots thudding towards her in order to pry her off of the accused but that was the least of her worries. Strong hands lifted her off George and placed her on the ground. The owner of the strong hands made a mistake by believing that she would stay still because Cyan ran back to attack George as soon as her feet hit the ground. She felt the same hands that dragged her, pounce her waist. Cyan was writhing, crimson braids leaving her tight ponytail and clothes creasing from the hurdling she was doing.

  "Cyan!" she heard Dave shout. "Cyan!"

  "Let me go!" Cyan yelled back. "Let-me-go!"

  The plain room was now in a frenzy. The police officers of the station rushed to stand between an electrified Cyan and a stunned George while Nathan, Evan and Jordan tried to calm Cyan down by explaining to her why they needed to keep George alive.

  Cyan didn't care about all that. Nothing justified keeping her sister's killer alive. In fact, she needed to kill him, snuff out the life in him and watch his last breath blend in the atmosphere around them. She reached for her Glock in her right holster but Nathan was faster than her. He pulled it out before Cyan could get to it and unloaded it. That only fueled Cyan's fury causing her to push through the barricade of her friends to take care of what she had started. Instead of pushing through, she fell into Nathan's arms, who caught her just before she slithered her way to George Campbell.

  All her efforts to make her way over to him were futile and that was the moment Cyan began to bawl and scream.

  "You're the reason my sister is not here anymore?!"

  George stared at Cyan, wide eyed, hand serving as a stopper from where the blood poured out from the wound she had inflicted.

  "I don't understand what you're talking about." George responded angrily and confused.

  "You didn't just take Director Thom’s life that day." Evan explained with sadness in his eyes. "You murdered young men and women. Children were buried as a result of your vendetta."

  "Nala was only twelve years old! She was only a girl!" Cyan wept. "You took her from us! My mother lost a daughter, my brother lost a twin and I lost a sister because of you! You-"

  Cyan tackled Nathan's body to get to George but she wasn't strong enough to. He still held her, tears and snot flooding his white shirt. Either he didn't notice or he didn't care. His main focus was on Cyan, doing whatever it took not to let her go and kill George himself.

  In the entire twenty-seven minutes that they had been stuck in the interrogation room, Cyan hadn't seen a tinge of authentic emotion on George's face. Now, his face dropped with sorrow, an emotion that seemed to match him completely, as strange as it sounded. He was no longer angry but downcast, eyes aging a thousand years, rings falling into place under his eyes.

  "You're lying. It was just Thomas that day." George denied viciously. "I don't murder children."

  "My sister is in a casket under the ground because you sent a faulty mercenary!" Cyan screamed. "My sister whose hope was to watch the flowers and the birds that day ended up losing her life because of you! Once he lets me go, you better run."

  "I didn't know-I-"

  "Shut up!" Cyan yelled as she tried to jump over Nathan.

  "Cyan! It's not worth it." Evan said. He stood in front of her behind Nathan. He held her face in his palms. "It's not worth it. I know the pain is intense right now. But I also know that Nala wouldn't want you to avenge her in a way that would compromise how she sees you."

  Cyan placed her head on Nathan's shoulder and began to cry openly. All that anger transformed itself into pain and all Cyan could do was shed tear after tear. She felt a hand stroking her head and assumed it was Evan's because Nathan's were on her waist. Evan's words were enough to stop her on her quest for violence and keep her in one place.

  "I too know what it's like to lose someone." George confessed.

  "Screw you." Jordan snapped. "You don't know a damn thing."

  "I know what's it's like to have somebody you love ripped away from you with no warning. To live in a darkness that recreates itself no matter how many times you try to escape. To live in world where your heart ceases to be the home for the people you love because they no longer exist." George lamented.

  Cyan breathed hard. She couldn't stand looking at the man who murdered his sister but everything he had said was true. All of it. He had lived through a pain that caused him to understand hers.

  "I took away somebody important to you, I see. I would like to offer my remorse, especially after you looked after somebody dear to me." George apologized.

  Cyan removed herself from Nathan's embrace.

  "I didn't look after anything of yours." she spat.

  "You did." he replied firmly. "My son. And that is why I regret taking your sister's life. Even if it wasn't my intention."

  "I've never met your son." Cyan replied confusedly, anger temporarily stalled by George's allegations.

  "He is who he has become because of his friends." George continued. "He is nothing like me because he was raised in love by his grandparents."

  Cyan involuntarily looked up at Nathan, whose face was masked with confusion, to find out if he had the slightest idea of what George was talking about. He was clearly in the dark as well so Cyan faced George again to acquire more answers.

  That was when she saw it.

  It suddenly hit Cyan why George looked so familiar.

  His eyes.

  She had seen them before. Those piercing, blue orbs that perforated Clement earlier. Those were the same eyes she stared into every time she looked up to talk to the one she believed was her soulmate. The same eyes she fell asleep looking at when they shared the same bed. The same eyes she fell in love with before he had said anything to her on the first day they met. These were the same eyes that resembled the sea on a sunny morning when all was peaceful and you didn't want the time to move. She could pick those eyes in any room full of people. She could pick those eyes anywhere.

  Cyan shifted her focus to Evan. She didn't know what prompted her to do that, but she did. Perhaps, it was to confirm what she had thought she realized. Or maybe, she just wanted to witness Evan's reaction when his best friend’s world was shattered upside down. Her eyes were blurred with the tears but from what she could see, he stared at Nathan as if he was just going to pull him in and hug him. Sorrow took shape in his almond eyes.

  She looked at Dave, whose eyes were on the floor, his teeth clenched with anger in his mouth and Jordan who looked everywhere else in the room but Nathan and George, tears pooled in his own eyes as he tried his best to return them back to whatever valve they escaped from.

  She caught a glimpse at Clement James. His attention was on Nathan, taking him in as if he was someone he hadn't seen in eons due to his own doing. He roughly averted his stare and faced the wall.

  Everyone in the room seemed to catch on to what was happening except Nathan himself who could not comprehend what George was trying to say to them. To him.

  George stared directly at Nathan. "I used to send letters to his grandmother but I'm sure he never received any of them."

  Nathan's attention was captured.

  "I failed him, Levi." George muttered to himself.

  "How do you know my name?" Nathan asked aggressively.

  George swallowed.

  "It was-my wife's. My wife's name was Levi."

  Nathan's face turned pale but he remained silent.

  "She always wanted you to have that name." George said in a low voice. "She said that she would give it to you. I guess she did."

  "What are you saying?" Nathan choked quietly.

  "I'm sorry you had to find out this way." George swallowed. "My name is George Charles Caldwell.

  I'm your father, Levi."