There were no planned times after that and no spoken agreement about what the possible future bump ins would be like. In fact, I did not know after the initial meeting that there ever would be any following ones. It was a onetime occurrence in the night. A onetime shift in normality.

The next evening, I had a little run in with my father. He was in one of his moods and barked at me from his office.

"Ellie. Here. Now." He snapped his fingers in my direction, not looking up from the pile of paper he was deeply studying.

I stopped halfway through the hallway and changed direction, so I was walking inside his office. "Yes?" I asked him, making sure my voice came out even and toneless. Any hint of insolence or impoliteness would be used against me.

"I need you to look into Dr. Harris for me."

I frowned down at him. Why hasn't he still looked up at me from his work? Am I that meaningless to him?

"Who is he?"

He shook his head, "she."

"Anything else I need to know?" That was one question I knew to always ask earlier on. This stopped any hidden skeletons from popping out to scare me when I started poking around. Although over the years, things were slowly becoming less scary for me. And that fact chilled me to the bone every time.

"She needs to be gone." My father replied instantly.

"Gone as in?" I asked, forcing my father to elaborate. This was another thing I quickly learned to establish before I left my father's presence. He needs to make things clear for me, so I did not mess up as I had done in the past. The re-precautions from that mess up led to various chain reaction of events that until now, I was picking up the pieces.

"Dead." As though no thought was required in hanging out a death sentence. As if he had the right.

I nodded at him, and he dismissed me with a flick of his hand. I turned on my heel and sped away, ignoring the loud thumping in my heart that always seem to happen when he made such orders. Did he think I could live with blood on my hands? Did he think this was okay? I physically could not let my mind wander to such dark places right now.

So, I did what I knew I could only do. I rounded the corner of his hallway and sped up my feet towards the kitchen. There was door to the right that led into the cook's kitchen and that is where I found Lorna, chopping up all sorts of vegetables. "Why are you making food so late?" I asked her, glance at the watch attached to my wrist. It was a few minutes to ten in the evening .

She peered down at my clothes, my shoes and then back up to my face again. "Where are you heading off to?"

"Fresh air." I answered nonchalantly.

"At this time?" she asked, with a perch of her eyebrows.

"Is there a problem to want fresh air?"

"Is there a need to dress up for it?"

I lifted my pink sweatshirt, kind of tattered at the hems but still did its job. I also had on my only pair of black jeans. This was not an outfit I was rarely in.

"This is not dressed up. Be concerned if I'm wearing my heels."

"You in heels would not be concerning. In jeans and trainers are."

I let out a deep sigh. Although I had known Lorna my whole life and had become an important fixture in my life since the passing of my mum, sometimes she could get right under my skin. "I am going for fresh air Lorna." I repeated.

She dropped her knife on the board and fully faced me. She put her hands on her hips and it didn't mass me that it was so similar to how my mum used to scold at me. And I certainly did not forget the times my mum asked Lorna for parenting tips. It always stabbed me in the heart that although my mum was gone, little things still reminded me off her. Of her loving light. A light that was engulfed in darkness the second she was lowered into the ground.

"You can stick your head out the window for fresh air."

I bulged my eyes at her. "Am I some dog?"

"No, but I don't believe you."

Ah. I smirked.

So that was what she was subtly trying to get to. "Lorna. Trust me. I'm going for fresh air and right back."

Lorna stared at me for a few more seconds, her gaze unwavering at my impatient expression. After what felt like years, she turned around and picked up her knife. "Shoo. Before I'll have to start singing like a canary."

I breathed out in relief and quickly ducked out the door. Al though Lorna was one of the only people I could stand in my house, a person who tried to fill the holes a mum could have only filled, it never went above me that she was still an employer of my father's. When push came to shove, she would answer to him first.

I walked through the quiet night, letting thoughts swim around my mind. I had various work portfolios to finish and transcripts to evaluate. Yet that was noting compared to what my father has just given me to do. I had another person to essentially wipe off the world. After I did it once subciouscly, I was vomiting for one week straight. This was the second time he was expecting me to do the same and I don't think I could do it.

I contemplated getting not contact with this Dr. Harris and tell her there has been a hit on her head. I scoffed at myself as the idea formed in my head. I was quiet stupid to think that my life resembled a movie – as though I could speak to the person and warn them. This was real world. There was nothing like that ever to happen.

If my father wanted Dr. Harris gone, she was gone. If he wanted me to do, it would be done.

He had so many fucking people to do his shitty work but he first off handed it to me. I had wiped her profile first, make her as filthy as I humanely could. And then when she was her lowest, exposed for things she may or may not have done, my father would make one call. And I would give that hit man all the details and location spot. I would have to pick the weapon; I would have to pick her last minutes and how it would play out.

"Fuck you, bastard." I swore out loud, angrily wiping at the tears that somehow fell form my eyes. Why the hell was I crying? I would still be alive.

"Oh, let me guess. Boy troubles in paradise?"

I sapped my head in the direction of the voice and gasped. I somehow had walked to the same bench from last night. And the same boy sat there.

Nate had his long legs sprawled in front of him and was leaning back on the bench. "If that was the problem, I would not be crying."

He scoffed. "Who knows what girls are crying over these days."

I pointed at my chest. "This girl has bigger things to worry about than boys."

"Oh yeah?" Nate smirked up at me. "Tell me why you are crying then."

I glared down. "None of your business."

We got into a little face off, me standing there and him sitting down. After ten minutes- although it was probably just ten seconds, Nate pulled his legs in and slightly shifted his body to the right. "Sitting down?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I'm going to keep walking."

He nodded. "Take a break. Have a little seat, regroup and then carrying on cussing out that bastard."

The silence after his suggestion that fell upon us was thick. There was plenty of unspoken words that seem to be swimming in the air and I had qualms to freely forfeit answers. Did I really want to unleash every single one of my thoughts onto this person? There were other things I could do to relieve the heaviness off my chest.

I had to start walking back home.

I moved my feet and found myself planting down onto the bench.

"Can I take a break here?" I whispered, looking down at my chipped nail polish on my fingers. I should fix this

"Already are." Nate replied in a soft voice.

"Do I need to talk to you?"

"No."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We both sat there, not talking to each other. Our shoulders brushes against one another at our occasional breathes, sweeping comfort and ease right through my bones. I usually turned to my fingers when I was in a anxious situation  - but right now, my fingers are having a break from being used. And, I don't know how that was possible but the heavy bulge in my chest dissipated.