"Pandora" (female rage collection) oil painting by Thomas Benjamin Kennington, 1908

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We had left the school and driven across town. Nervously I nodded when he explained this was a small detour to finish up the mural's work for the day, but I wasn't sure if I was anxious due to where we were at and how it had anything to do with the mural... or what his intentions were for our supposed "date" afterwards. I gripped my bag tighter as we left the jeep behind and entered the tall building before us.  

Hayden walked in a way that only he could; like a predator prowling the world before him. Slow steady steps descended from each limb in perfect, precise strides, while his blank eyes took in what was before him.

The bureau building was busy at this moment; people hurried by us as we moved through the crowd, their eyes concentrating on their phones as they tried to finish up their days on time. But whether consciously or subconsciously, they parted from Hayden's path; like a river splitting around the sharp boulder in its wake. I knew he was recognized by them all, this was after all the place where his own nightmare slept. And I wondered idly if that was who he was going to see.

Remembrance of my last drawing from here entered my mind; Hayden waiting to see his uncle, Hayden's face contorted with rage and pain.  I knew instantly we wouldn't be here unless it was important. Whatever Hayden wanted from his uncle was somehow crucial to this mural's under-plane.

I had never been the constant object before. I watched unsure, rather hesitant of this new experience. Being beside Hayden, no one bumped my shoulder, no one spoke too impolitely loud on their phone, no one was my classic version of the babbling stampeding sheep. Here they were relatively careful of their own movements, subconsciously aware of the handsome man strolling through; that ever air of his authority sharp against their nose. 

Hayden's uncle was renowned; a lawyer who had made his reputation by handling high dollar cases and elite clients charged with any number of crimes. Our local newspapers had done a few articles on Mr. Donovan, enough that even my own mother had known his identity when Hayden ate dinner with us. Mr. Donovan's wealth accumulated beneath him as a testament to his enterprise. 

But for whatever reason, Mr. Donovan had left his old law firm- and its multiple billion-dollar empire- to join that of more simple and moral bound tastes. Now the head State lawyer, he prowled behind government buildings and oversaw a chain of command of other State lawyers and district attorneys. Here his hands dabbled in much more mild work, but it seemed his reputation could hardly be forgotten. Mark Donovan was a name everyone knew. And so, it would seem as well, Hayden Donovan.

Whether by fear, admiration, or jealousy- these people around us parted from our path, allowing us to head straight to the lobby of the State Attorney's offices. Again, no one's shoulders bumped into mine or miss-stepped onto my toes, making me relax in the busy environment.  But then suddenly, I felt guilty; I was abusing Hayden's nuclear fallout.

Why are we here Hayden? I wondered uncomfortably. If he hated his uncle so much; if there was something truly putrid and festering about their relationship-why would he purposely come here.... and at that- drag me with him? What is it that you need from your uncle? I kept spiraling.

"Okay, wait for me here." Hayden turned and looked towards me.

"What about..." I asked unsure, not sure if I should pry into his history with his uncle.

He smiled ever so slightly, but his eyes were still dark. "I'll only be a moment. I just need some basic information. He shouldn't realize why I am asking so don't worry about the mural's secrecy." Hayden said in response, "So just sit tight for a second."

I frowned slightly but nodded my head, watching him head towards the receptionist desk, third in line.  I glanced around unsure, spying some chairs and made my way for them. I headed to the most distant ones in order to disappear from the world around. Beginning to sit down, I looked up to see where Hayden was at. I was surprised to find he still watching me from where he stood in line. I held those unexpressive eyes for a second, before finally he raised a finger and flicked it slightly sideways at me. Move over there, his lips worded suddenly. I raised an eyebrow but stood and moved, these chairs more visible than the nook I wanted to sit in. At that, he looked forward again.

Puzzled, I silently mulled over in agitation what the point had been.  Hayden stepped another person closer in line. I drummed my finger against my bag as I watched its brown stitching in mild entertainment; enjoying how precisely it was weaved through and through.  I pictured its path as that of my paintbrush, moving along the stone face of this mural. 

 So many truths... so many veracities. And yet... one was no longer the same. 

Hayden was always supposed to be a monster. I had been so terrified of him before, fearful of a day where he found out about my past; what horrors he would use against me now that he knew.  

But he didn't... he had already found out so much; seeing my secret drawings, realizing I had a physiatrist, uncovering I had a tick, knowing child services was involved in my life....

Understanding my mother had betrayed me.

But of all these knowings... it was the unknown emotions that caused me the most fear and dread. I didn't understand, believe, what he meant; how he could possibly mean it; I promise I won't do anything to you. You're fine just the way you are, don't let her change you.

Before when he had said those words- I could have laughed to his face- practically did- knowing it was a lie. This is what he did, this is what people like him did, they manipulated those around them- cohered them into liking them- but then destroyed their lives if they had become inconvenient.

Except... then we stood beneath the mural's plane- and I found out the truth about Hayden. He didn't fuck their lives over, not without giving them their chance.

So, everything was changing in my head,

Those words of his had suddenly changed.

Everything had changed.

It was suddenly noisy; my ears picking up the man before I actually saw him.  A loud, cracking voice began to grow louder and louder as it cast itself into a phone's receiver. I raised my sight and found the human outlet.

It was his outfit I devoured first; a business suit- but one that was old and weathered, a brown leather suitcase- but one that swung easily as if there was no current weight to pull it down, a large cellular earpiece protruding from an oily ear, and finally black shoes- oddly colored from the black permanent marker that had been used over and over again to cover up the scuff marks.

I gazed upon his features now, grimacing at the pore sizes and the sheen that seemed to amplify the hole's depth. Blonde greasy hair combed back away from his face and receding hairline. His eyes were hazel, but small and watery- making them look beady and agitated. His chin and neck had razor burn bumps and nicks, barely concealed beneath some form of skin-tone bandages

But what made the hairs on my neck rise slightly was in watching his own gaze dance across the room- searching and analyzing the people before us. The way he perfectly talked into the phone, the language he used, made me realize it was all an act. He wasn't talking to anyone- but rather using it a disguise so he could impede upon others personal space without being caught.

I glanced around the room to watch those who took the bait. We could all hear him explaining to the phantom on the phone that he was the best lawyer around, and of course he would handle their case. His specialty, after all, was those who felt like they had a lost cause.

And his bait was surprisingly working. When those around me began showing signs of eavesdropping on him, clearly showing they were interested in his words and self-worth, did they give themselves away. I realized suddenly how many around me were here to obtain a lawyer. And the man before me knew as well.  But by his clothes, empty suitcase, and phone- I could easily smell he was a fraud.

I tightened my hands in my lap, glancing again at the intricate woven string. I hesitated before I looked towards Hayden again, but he was talking to the receptionist now as she led him towards another smaller lobby, secured by glass windows to divide access, where golden elevators awaited. 

I glanced back towards the man, noting his silence, and dreadfully realized he was staring at me. A quick smile appeared on his lips, revealing surprisingly white teeth.

"Well, aren't you a darling little thing." he chuckled as he came over towards me. "What could such a Little Bit like yourself possibly need here in this big ol' nasty establishment?"

"Nothing." I said quietly, uncomfortable with how long he had been staring at me.

"Surely not nothing. You're here cause' you got into a little trouble, didn't you? Perhaps a late-night drive after a strong sip of something sweet?" he laughed at his own joke, clearly pleased he could be so clever.

"No," I said again, my eyes searching for Hayden, but at this point he was gone.

I glanced back towards the man, frustrated he was still just standing there and staring.

"You don't have to be scared of me, little bit. I'm just here to help. See those lawyers in there- they don't give a damn about you or your innocence. They get paid by the Sate no matter what and they represent those who don't have a dime to their name. Now me, I'm different. Yes, I expect some minor fees here and there, but I care- truly care- about my clients.  I help them through all of the processes- start to finish- and I'd be more than happy to help you."

"How do you know I'm innocent?" I asked him head on.

His eyebrows rose slightly, but he managed to not look caught off-guard otherwise. "I believe we're all born innocent, little bit. And such a sweet thing like you especially. Just because a man- or woman, for that matter- makes a small mistake in life... doesn't mean they should be pegged as guilty their whole lives. I believe in redemption.  And I believe God gave me the power to help those who need a little redemption- despite what they have done. See, he gifted me a knack for winning cases and allowing his flock to try again; all lessons learned in their ever-grateful minds."

"But you don't even know my crime." I countered, "I've done something exceptionally bad. And I don't regret it, I don't want redemption. I just want to get away with it."

He laughed heartedly, throwing his head back in delight. "Oh, little bit, you sure are something fierce. Well then, I'll let you in on a little secret." he leaned in close, and his cheap cologne swarmed my thoughts, "It aint about innocence or guilt, it's about wits and money. If you got the second, I got the first."

"Is that so?" I found myself saying, memories from deep inside of me pooling through. It was there, like a Pandora 's box that opened to a familiar tune, and this moment I was trapped in was a perfect replica of my shattered past. It fit like a key; the déjà vu of a lawyer leering above me. And that dark something opened inside of me. 

He didn't seem to pick up on the darker, dangerous edge to my voice. "No matter my sins, it doesn't matter to this court system, does it? I just need a little wit, a little manipulation- and I can get away with most anything?"

"Aint it a kicker?" he grinned at me, "I've helped many who've done some horrendous crimes... but they were smart enough to hire me, and with this jacked-up court system we were singing all the way home back to our lives again-"

His eyes widened in a fraction of a second as he stared at me.

I stopped suddenly; my white fist constricted into a ball- already raising to strike straight through those clean white teeth. But it had faltered short.

It was Hayden's eyes that stopped me. He stood in an office window across from me- its view perfectly in sight of the chair he had me change to. They were wide and fierce; his mouth worded something, and my hand loosened in response.

I couldn't break away from his eyes, but I was aware that there were suddenly two men in uniforms by me. They were escorting the oily fraud away from me.

"Get your hands off of me," He hissed, "I am dealing with a client! Tell them, little bit, tell them you are my client. I can help you win your case- I promise." But even as he said that his wide eyes gazed at me unsure... what was she about to do? Those orbs seemed to waver.

I turned and fully stared at him, hesitating as I tried to leave the fog that clouded my mind. I almost couldn't believe the demon moved my hands like so; bringing me to the brink of some internal sanity. But then again, I supposed it wasn't too much of an unforeseen surprise. This place; our words- they all connected to something darker inside of me. Something dangerous. The therapy I had dove into all these years was to hide it, scab over it. But it had never ended it. And these past few weeks had taken me back to the beginning.

What I truly couldn't believe.... Hayden was what stopped it.  Why?  Was I so terrified of displeasing him and losing his help, it was enough to stunt something that had never been controlled? I was scared suddenly; all these years I struggled to not let my hands act the way they wanted to- but one look from Hayden could freeze them instantly?! That wasn't possible, was it?  What was wrong with me...

My hand fell to my side defeated, but I felt like I had been slapped. I needed to leave this place as soon as I could. My fingers began to tremble and shake. I was suddenly, overwhelmingly, disgustedly, aware of them all around me; the lawyers, the State agents, the police officers. Police officers...

An image of officer Andrews appeared in my head suddenly, a strangled memory in which he chided over me- asking why I always told lies. A choked cry moved from deep inside of me.

"Miss?"

I was aware everyone was still waiting on my response. I watched the men before me, trying to control the nausea behind my lips- trying not to suddenly choke on a scream or a sob. I could feel my lips, somehow, stretch into a false grin. "But I don't need a lawyer. I'm... just here waiting for a friend."

The fraud's eyes widened in anger of his time wasted, before he was escorted away by the security duo.

I sat there for another minute, staring at the place where the men had just stood. The bones within my palms and joints seem to vibrate and tremor to that of an unseen force. My jaw threatened to clatter, but I fought over the sensation- I fought the sudden need to paint this world around me.

My eyes finally cracked to the right, searching for the wolf in the office windows, but I could see he wasn't there. I wondered how much of my mental breakdown he had stayed for.

"So, you must be Alys." A mild voice said beside me. I jumped harshly and swung my head around. A tall man stood beside me, grey glacial eyes and light brown hair combed back away from his face.  I had never seen Mark Donovan before, but there was no denying that was who stood before me.  There were small creases beside his eyes and between his brows, but beside that- his physical and facial features very much matched his nephew. He might as well have been Hayden's father.

I breathed in slightly from my mouth as I stood and offered my hand in polite acknowledgement, "Mr. Donovan."

Why was happening! Why was he here, where was Hayden? This wasn't what I wanted; I didn't want to meet the uncle. The tick caused my hand to tighten within his, trembling it slightly. I prayed he just thought I was nervous. And I prayed the intense distrust and repulsion I felt for him wouldn't show as the demon inside of me was so close to the surface. He might be admired by others... but I hated this man as much as I hated the fraud. They all were responsible to what happened to me, as far as I was concerned. I hated and blamed all people like them who abused the system around us.

But the tick was wary of this man who looked so much like Hayden. Again, I was disturbed by Hayden's effect on me. Somehow, I had always known we were very similar to each other; he was the only one on my playing field and I him... but did that really mean he somehow knew how to handle me better than I did myself? What was it about him that stopped me? Because I feared him? Because I wanted his help?

And then I realized suddenly...

It was how he was looking at me. My mother, my doctors, my everyone before this had always saw me as wrong, pitying me, needing to help me, needing to change me so that I never acted like this again. Karri was the first to see me with compassion and understanding, but that was the healed me... not this raw me. She would love me no matter what, but she would never stand for this. She would stay hand in hand with me, but she would pull me back away from that cliff.

It was only Hayden who stood in the darker parts of my mind and admitted he didn't want me to ever change. It was only Hayden who had faith I could fly.

It was how he was looking at me...

It was how he said those next words, though I could only read his lips through the glass.

You're okay.

I closed my eyes for half a second. I can do this. I can do this.

He might be a wolf... but I was wrong about so many things about him. He hadn't destroyed those lives like I thought he had....

He wasn't the suffocating shadow like I thought he was.

Yes... I was wrong about him.

He wasn't like that person.

He wasn't my father...

So I can do this.

.

.

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A/N

Hello Everyone!

I ended up staying in Korea another week, so just over three total. It was awesome, I backpacked through almost all of it and had a great time. It is good to be back though, and my love affair with my bed and computer has begun again. All is well.

Here is just a few photos from it, these were from our last night in the street markets. I was eating pickled pigs feet. And they were horrendous lol. Oh well, when in Rome.

I hope everyone enjoyed that little insight as to the true culprit of Alys' past, and why she feared Hayden so much when she thought he was just like that man.

-Helium