Sergio

How it all started...

'Wait, hold on Morello – Layla!' I called my eight-year-old daughter down from her palace of a room, where she took her sweet time to get ready for school.

'Coming!' she shouted back, not actually coming.

'Hit me', I got back on the phone to Morello. Then the door rang.

'Hey – what's up back there?' Morello asked curiously.

'Sorry, my daughter, you know?' I rushed to the door, 'ah, Amy. You're here. Thank God'. Listening to music full blast, Amy's eyes were glued to her phone, and bullet texting fingers.

'Tell me about it! My two little girls give me the same headache', Morello scoffed, relating, 'but what I really wanted to say is... we have him – we have Valentino'.

'Great. I'm coming down now, just –' I had to hang up, 'Layla! Get your ass down here now, or I will drag you down!'

'Alright-alright', she mumbled, skittering down the stairs.

'What is happening with your hair?' I asked.

'I want to leave it out, like my friend's hair'.

'And leave this house – looking like Simba?' Left out, her hair was a jumble up of straight, curly, and wavy strands.

'No!' Layla cried, running into Amy's arms, her all-time favourite person. I rolled my eyes.

'Don't worry. I'll fix it', Amy offered.

'Thank you. Please make it look – better'. I snatched my jacket and headed out the door.

'Chief'.

'Julian', I greeted him at the entrance, while he escorted me.

'He's in there, but he's not speaking', Julian explained, 'just pleads the fifth all the time. Selena and I tried'.

'Valentino'. The man I stared at led the most notorious drug cartel in Bluebridge, but not just any drugs. The Class A drug was named Purple stuff, not because it was purple, but because it turned one's blood purple.

'If it isn't the one and only Mr. Valdez', he replied, a grin on his face, 'I've heard a lot of things about you'.

'Likewise', I replied.

'You know in my world, you're considered a gangster', he remarked.

'And what world is that?' I probed.

'You know... just the streets. We came from the same streets, right?'

'In the streets I was raised in, they didn't sell drugs that gave people super-human abilities'.

'Yeah, you mean like steroids?'

'Yeah – if steroids could make you walk on walls and lift vehicles with a single hand!'

'He-he', Valentino chuckled.

'You haven't heard'?' I played him videos of large, online influencers doing the exact things I had described. Some stretched their fingers like rubber on camera, and others did tricks like levitating girls on their backs.

'You can't connect me with that', he mumbled below his voice, and rocking his chair.

'Maybe not yet...' I leaned in, warning him plainly, 'but it won't be long before I have full receipts'.

'So what you're saying is, you people have no grounds to arrest me?'

'Oh-ho we definitely have strong grounds for your arrest'.

'But you have no grounds to charge him', his lawyer barged into the interrogation room.

'This shit again!' I sighed, shaking my head. Valentino's lawyer, Priscilla, took a seat next to him.

At home while we ate Thai takeaway for dinner, Selena shared something very poignant with me. The Purple stuff was a drug developed over twenty years ago, adapted by Yuri, general of the Royal Intelligence.

It was the same drug given to Amy, as a remedy for her blood deficiency at birth.

However, the drug didn't behave the same way as it did for Amy. It was much weaker than before, and the effects were temporary, not permanent.

'When did this purple stuff start going around anyway?' I asked.

'Since the extraction of Amy's blood at the Royal Intelligence lab, remember?' Selena explained, 'it's the make-up of whatever's in her blood that started this – superhuman drug movement'.

'How did you find all this out?'

'I did a self-tour while we infiltrated', she picked up her phone and showed me images of formula equations and sheets of a business manifesto'.

'I can't believe you did this. This kind of information can get us killed. They... don't know about this, right?'

'Yeah, they do', she replied nonchalantly.

'What?!'

'How do you think I was able to bribe Yuri? I said I would keep the information confidential if they made sure never to touch Amy again'.

'Selena!'

'Anonymously, obviously!' she grumbled. This woman never changed. I sighed.

*BANG-BANG-BANG* Suddenly loud banging came from the door. It was past midnight. Cautiously, I approached the door. Selena grabbed her gun from her jacket pocket and followed behind.

I peered through the peephole, baffled to find out who it was.

'Well, who is it?' Selena whispered. Slowly, I opened the door.

Maria?

Years later, Maria's brown wavy hair and smooth, olive skin hadn't changed. Still soft-spoken, but her English was up to standard. For some reason, my home was now the refuge for people I knew who were in danger.

'How did you find out where I live?' I asked Maria, who was now sat reserved on our couch.

'Sergio, who is she?' Selena whispered in my ear.

'Just a college friend', I whispered back.

'I'm Maria', she butted in, overhearing our whispers.

Clearly very disappointed, Selena stiffened up.

Since she came to Bluebridge, Maria's hustle journey landed her in a job as a drug distributor in Valentino's business. Unfortunately, some product in her supervision went missing without a clear explanation, which explained why she was wanted and had to hide here.

The sweet, innocent Maria I once knew, had joined the dark side.

'What? It's what I do! I tried to defend you when you were the murderer', Priscilla argued, while we contended in my office the next day, over our new conflict of interest.

'That's different. I didn't actually murder anyone'.

'And up till today, you won't tell me who the real murderer is, so –'

'Okay. Priscilla – look. You know how vulnerable Maria is right now. Whatever you do, you cannot tell – your client that I know where she is'.

'Huh!' she scoffed, 'you know, I've noticed you spending more time with Maria lately. What is that? Part of your witness protection programme?'

'She has nowhere to go', I explained, 'her landlord was murdered'.

'Oh shit. No family?'

'I don't think she has family in America. Please Priscilla'.

'Alright. Save your senorita', she grumbled. Then she walked up to my ear, 'and if you need anything else, you know where to find me...'

After arriving home, it was back to the same routine. Arguing with Selena about something and forced by Layla to watch her show-and-tell. If it wasn't a picture she drew, it was a dance. If it wasn't a dance, it was a singing talent show. If it wasn't any of that, it was something Amy showed her.

'Layla...' I tried to stay calm, 'what is that around your neck?'

'It's called a choker', she retaliated, full attitude.

'Take it off', I demanded. This could not be anyone else but Amy's doing. Instead of listening, Layla ran away. 'What is wrong with her?' I complained to Selena, while she threw chopped ingredients into her pot of cooking.

'Maybe you're too harsh on her', she suggested.

'Harsh?' I snapped, 'I'm the nicest dad ever. Harsh?'

'Harsh with her hair?' Selena raised her eyebrow, 'she doesn't like it when you do it'.

'So would you rather have her hair looking like – the jungle when she goes to school?'

'No – course not', Selena sighed, 'look, why don't we just let her do the keratin thing?'

'No!' I settled, while Selena rolled her eyes, 'No. no chemicals. No – hair straightening –'

'You're the one who has the problem with her hair. Now I'm giving you the solution and you're saying no!' Selena heckled back, imitating my tone. Halfway through the debate, Maria walked up to the fridge.

'Sorry', she whispered, tiptoeing away like a mouse. No matter how invisible she tried to be, we all knew she was there.

'Sergio! I agreed to helping Maria', Selena whisper-growled across the kitchen table, 'but I did not agree to letting her stay!'

'It's – temporary, okay?' I reinforced.

'Why don't you discuss anything with me before you just start making big decisions like this?'

'Mom, Dad?' little Layla squeaked from the corner, interrupting our rant, breathing heavily. Red and sweaty, her face was burning up.