~ Kymari ~

I don't go straight home. For the longest time, I simply stayed with my head resting against the steering wheel mulling over the words that refused to exit my head. I had used a large sum of my allowance money to pay for the search, now there was no money nor a clue as to who my biological father really is. In the passenger seat my phone screen lights up before Papa's name flashed across. Guilt bloomed in my heart, I was here trying to find someone who never bothered to look for me for twenty one years when this man had taken me into his home, and raised me like his own.

I cleared my throat in hopes of ridding myself of the negative emotions that were stuck in my throat. Crying on the phone would just lead to a string of questions that I wasn't ready for.

"Hello?" I said, placing the call on the speaker.

"Cherie, how fast can you get here?" He asked, taking in strained labored breaths.

I turn on the ignition before he gets half of his sentence out, safely tucking the letter back into the envelope. I pressed the phone closer to my ear, one hand on the gear stick.

"I can make it in an hour or so, what- what's wrong?"

He chuckles lightly, sounding too airy. Too. . . wrong.

"Nothing's wrong, bring a bag for the weekend and can you buy that rice from that store we love?" He asked.

"Okay but papa you-." the line goes dead.

I drove to this African cuisine restaurant near the more "ghetto" part of the city, physiotherapy always left me hungry and highly irritated, today more than usual. Whereas the city was usually sprinkled with luxurious skyscrapers and aged museums, this side of town consisted of cracked asphalt roads. Tufts of dying grass filled the labyrinth of cracks along the sidewalks, some were filled with plain mud. Then there were the occasional stray cats that wandered the streets looking for a meal near any restaurant's dumpster. All the houses were built differently but with the same ugly roof that looked like it could barely keep rain out, some doors were barricaded shut with panels of wood nailed to them, while others had broken windows hanging with some duct tape. Some old abandoned houses were being demolished to make room for new ones, though personally I believed the government would try to use the land for something else.

The restaurant today isn't as busy as they usually are considering it was the time of day where students were rushing to get to class or people were bustling to get to work on time. Inside the atmosphere smells really nice and there's low African music playing in the background, standing at the cashier's place was a young guy that looked in his early twenties, most likely still in college or university. He seemed to be the only one around in the restaurant, so I approached the counter slowly. He put on a nice smile when I reached the counter, I eye the menu that's hung up on the wall using some kind of flat screen tv, sifting through it with tremendous speed. Well as fast as I could since it flickered dangerously which caused the menu to blink in and out.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" He asked politely, tapping the screen of the computer, ready to punch in my order.

"Uh, can I please get some jollof rice with plantain, and peppered chicken. Do you guys sell any desserts?" I questioned.

"Yes we do, we have a few desserts like apple pie, donuts, puff puff."

I rubbed my left cheek anxiously. "I'll take four donuts and the puff puffs please."

He nods, punching my order into the computer, only looking up to ask me whether I'd be staying to eat it there or if it's for take out, to which I reply by saying takeout. He disappears into the back area of the store –where the kitchen most likely was – and returns with a plastic bag full of takeout containers. I pull out thirty dollars from my front pocket and slide it across to him on the counter.

"Thank you, have a nice day."

He mutters a low "you too", going into the kitchen again.

An annoying buzz in the back pocket of my jeans startles me while walking out of the tiny shop. Balancing the takeout containers on my right knee, I use my left hand to get my phone out. Why was everyone suddenly remembering my existence on the one day I didn't feel like talking.

"Hello." I say, without checking the caller ID.

"Bitch where are you, I've been trying to get a hold of you," my best friend's voice sounded through the phone.

My grip on the food slips, tumbling ever so slowly to the grim coated floor before I can save it. Small particles of rice and stew land on my jeans, I grit my teeth in frustration, getting into my car angrily at the money and food that's just been wasted, and slam the door shut. Two zeroes in one day, today just wasn't my day.

I sighed, clenching my left fit to keep from crying out in anger.

"I'm sorry, Chynna I've been busy with classes but I promise I haven't forgotten about you," I said, laying my head on the steering wheel.

"Uh huh, I know, girl. I know how busy your schedule can be, you holding up well?" she questioned.

I nod, before remembering that she actually can't see me.

" Yeah, it's alright,"

"Mhm, so I was calling to tell you that Michael is throwing a party this Friday. I need you to come with me, you owe me for missing my swim tournament,"

"Chynna, Friday? Friday I have classes till six thirty, I'm not sure I can make it, plus I have new dresses to design, a new panel to draw. I'm super busy,"

"Nuh huh, stop right there. You always give me the same response and I let you be but not this time. C'mon Kym, you gotta live a little!"

"But-but I don't even have a dress to wear!"

" Firstly if you're gonna think of an excuse, don't think of a lame ass one like that because you know I gotchu covered and second, you don't need to wear a dress,"

Three. Two. One.

I cave in.

" Fine."

"Yasss....... Latavious is also coming."

My cheeks became hotter at the mention of his name.

"Latavious?! You should've told me he's coming!" I groaned.

She snorted, kissing her teeth.

"Who would've known you'd be so keen on eloping with that annoying man." She giggled, though she sounded slightly unsettled by the thought.

"Shut up I don't like him like that, anyway, I'll see you Friday." I said, putting my car into drive.

"He likes you, you know?" She said seriously, right as I'd just pressed the end button.

I stare at the home screen, pondering whether or not I should call her back to hear the full story about what she had to say. Latavious and I met around two years ago, at Chynna's mom's graduation from law school. Chynna had introduced us to one another and it had started as a simple crush but now, I don't know. Sighing deeply, I start my car and head to papa's home, without any food to eat and a chest full of swirling emotions. I don't bother going back to my apartment to pack some clothes, at this rate I might end up tripping down the short flight of stairs.

Upon arriving at Papa's home, I see that the light in the house is turned on. His house was nothing too fancy. After my mom died, my father sold our house and bought us a little bungalow that overlooked a small lake. The water glistened like tiny little diamonds as the sun started to set below the water before it completely disappeared from sight, four medium-sized rocks nestled into the water that created a sort of walkway to the other side.

On the other side lays a clearing, full of pink and ivory flowers that smelt of lavender and honeydew which was perfect for whenever I needed to get away from the world, this is where I came to hide and read books that took me into worlds I could only dream of in my sleep. Walking up to the front I think of the possibilities of my dad being home but his big red infamous pickup truck isn't lodged in our cramped garage so right then, I knew that wasn't an option. A heavy sort of feeling settles over my chest, it's invisible hands latching onto my throat as my breath quickens, I reached my hand out to turn the knob, all the worst case scenarios of what could've happened running through my head but I'm a little more relieved when I find that the door is still locked.

When I finally unlock the door, there's a certain difference in the house but I brush it away, claiming fatigue. I start walking to the kitchen when I spot a trail of blood leading to papa's study. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach, a million thoughts racing through my head. Was this his blood or someone else's? I can hear the blood rushing to my ears with each step closer to his closed bedroom door, I am but a mere passenger in my own body. The thick metallic stench of blood hits my nose the moment I cross the threshold into his bathroom.

Red splattering of blood decorates papa's usually gray bathroom tiles, a striking contrast against the warm color. Papa's unconscious body comes into view, resting heavily against the side of the bathtub. A blood stained hand clutches at the blood soaked shirt wound around his stomach.

"Papa, can you hear me?"

A groan is the only response I get from him. Locating another towel, I pressed that against the openly bleeding wound.

"I need you to hold onto this tightly, okay papa? I'm gonna go call 911." I whispered, my voice cracking at the end.

He reaches a hand out to catch my wrist before I make my way back to the kitchen to get my phone.

He shakes his head vigorously. "Don't call anyone, it's not that deep."

I shake my head too.

"You'll be okay papa, i'll be right back."

The journey back to the kitchen was not something I remembered, all I remember was the distant sound of the microwave coming to an end and a clatter from my bedroom. Something falls to the floor with a loud thud, yet the sound couldn't compare to how loud my heart was thumping erratically in my ribcage. I stopped the microwave before its loud beeping which indicated that the contents inside were ready, sounded off throughout the now eerily still house. It was like the house knew what was coming too.

Looking for any object to use as a weapon I came across a steel rod that came out of its place on a shoe rack. A depressing thought stops me in my tracks as I silently walk to my room, will I be able to take on this person while using one arm? I nervously tugged down my long sleeved shirt further down to cover my right hand and with the hand gripping the rod, I opened the door.