༄ WHEN Sam awoke, it was in Jeff's bed.

And when she remembered everything that happened, she wanted to do a lot of things. Cry, overthink what a divorce could mean for her life, wonder if her dad meant it, and consider if her mother really was the one in that car.

To drive your own daughter into death while they never did anything to you was too insane for words.

So with the hope it might've not been true, Sam walked downstairs, her head aching as if she got a hangover.

In the living room, she saw just her brother and father. Her father stood next to Jeff, who was bent over and inspecting... something Sam hoped it was not.

"The hell are you doing and why does it look like you're working at a crime scene and inspecting the vomit?" She said weakly, attempting to bite the words out, but her voice was hoarse and quiet.

"Sam!" Her father attacked her with a hug and she didn't hug back as tightly as always. Right now, physical touch was not what she craved for.

She looked at Jeff. "Are you going to answer my question? I don't need to know where Mom is right now or what happened after I fell asleep, just let me know why you're mixing freaking puke."

"Mom threw up," Jeff explained. "And I know it's disgusting, too. But I refuse to believe she didn't drink or take anything the night of the accident. She can't be that horrible."

"So you're looking through what has been in her body before?"

"You've been in her body before. I've been in her body before. Honestly, I don't see a difference."

"I see a big difference between us and vomit, Jeff."

He didn't reply anymore. With those stupid tweezers, he took ahold of something. "Aha! Got it."

Sam stared at the white thing between the metal, frowning. "That could be anything."

"This..." Jeff put the thing in a bag as if he really was investigating a crime scene. "...is drugs."

Their father crossed his arms. "Am I supposed to be concerned you know what drugs look like?"

"We get a lot of education during my medical subjects," Jeff explained quickly. "I don't do drugs."

"But Mom, that strict, serious woman, does?" Sam lifted her eyebrows, not really believing this. She couldn't just rely on Jeff and say her mother took drugs.

"Maybe. Or..." Her brother got up. Lay the plastic bag down on the counter. "Someone else drugged her."

"We're not in a crime movie, Jeff." She bit her lip. "And I won't believe you before a drug expert confirmed it."

The doorbell rang. Sam was the closest by, so opened it and then suddenly, physical touch didn't sound that bad at all, because she was already burying herself inside Minho's arms.

"Woah—" He hugged her back, firmly, as he rubbed her back. "Hey, sorry I ruined things but I couldn't let you live under the same roof as the one who—"

"I know," she assured. "I think it's good that you told Dad."

"I hope," he murmured, kissing her head. "What's that smell, though?"

"Jeff decided to look through Mom's vomit and found something he calls drugs, but it could be anything." She walked back into the living room, where Minho received a few more greets, and pointed at the bag Jeff lay down on the counter.

Minho walked over to it. Grabbed the thing, and looked. A few seconds later, "You might actually be right, J."

"Is it a good thing you know what drugs look like?" Sahil asked again. "This whole thing kind of worries me, kids."

Minho swallowed. "I don't do drugs, if that's what you're asking. Have never done. I just know what it looks like. Although... there's like a million sorts. But this is drugs. One hundred percent."

"How are you so sure?"

His knuckles turned white around the bag. "I saw those pills every damn week from as long as I can remember. Until I was seventeen."

"Who—"

"Doesn't matter," he said. "What does matter is that I will beat that—"

"What happened to your hand?" Sam walked closer, grabbing his arm and spreading his fingers. His knuckles were red. A bit damaged.

He pulled back. "Nothing."

"You fought. Why did you fight and who—"

"Okay, fine! Fine, fine." His face bursted with frustration. "Yesterday, I threw a few punches because after you told me about the guy who assaulted you, I knew who it was, so I found him hanging around somewhere like usual, learned him his lesson like I do every year and now I'm hoping he understands, but apparently he also drugged your mother."

"...what?"

"Sit down and explain," Sahil commanded. Minho tried to protest, but even Sam had never seen her father that serious, so they all sat down around the counter.

"Someone assaulted you?"

Fast, Sam explained that story to Sahil.

He turned to Minho. "And you know who it was?"

"Smells like alcohol, wore a bun, tight jeans? Yup."

"Tell me everything you know about that man's identity."

Minho looked down. "It's a long story. I'm not sure if—"

"Tell. Me."

"Dad, easy," Sam warned. "You don't know—"

"Don't worry," Minho interrupted fast, lying his hand on her knee. "I'll tell him. So his name is Clarence Brooks," the boy started. "I don't think he has much of a house. He's a drug addict and alcoholic. I often see him with his head in garbage bags so I don't think he makes a lot of money with that drug selling."

"How do you know all of that about him?"

His head lowered even more. "'Cause my aunt bought drugs from him. She was supposed to take care of me after... after, well—"

"You don't have to do this," Sam rested her hand on his and squeezed. "Only tell the things you're comfortable with."

Minho nodded, but pulled himself together. "She was supposed to take care of my after my mother's death. Unfortunately, she kind of failed doing that. So I would watch her buy drugs from the money I finally made. Thought I could eat something else than those microwave meals, until again, either she or my father took that money. When I was ten, I saw Clarence pull a woman into an alley. I don't remember if something actually happened in that alley, but I went up to that man anyways. Tried to confront him, but I was ten and he's a grown man so... you know."

Sam's heart ached, and guilt filled in her body. She should've asked more about his family. She asked once or twice and then completely forgot about it because he didn't seem too okay talking about it. Now, it appeared he'd lied. His mother wasn't alive. His parents weren't 'often on trips'.

"From that, every year, I noticed him do the same thing. I probably didn't see all the times it happened 'cause I didn't feel safe around the streets, but every year, I tried to learn him his lesson. So after you left my house yesterday, and I spoke to Sahil, I went up to him for trying to hurt you. I'm not sure what would've happened if a man hadn't told me to stop hitting."

"How'd your mother die?" Sahil asked softly. "If you want to talk about it."

He shrugged. "I thought it was only about Clarence."

"We didn't know about all of this, Minho," Sam added. "What Dad means, is that you can talk to us. We can wait to solve all this and listen to you first."

Minho bit his lip. Shrugged again. "She died while giving birth to me. My father hates me for it. Says it's my fault she died, which it might be, and that's also why he steals the money. He thinks I don't deserve to live."

The way he said it so easily but with so much pain in his voice hurt her like a knife. "That's not your fault," her voice came out high-pitched. "You do deserve to live."

He gave her a small smile. "I've lost faith in him a long time ago. I'm not listening to what he says any longer."

"Good." She squeezed his hand again. "Anything else you'd like to speak of? I'll gladly listen."

"Well... back to Clarence," he said, nodding. "I'm not sure how he's connected to your mother and if she bought those drugs, but..." a pause. "But I don't think it's a coincidence he assaulted you after giving your mother drugs."

Sahil moved closer. "How come?"

"It's not the first time he's ruining things for me. It wouldn't surprise me if he gave your mother that—"

Before he could finish, Edith walked inside the room with swollen eyes, dark bags around them, and a pale face.

Sahil handled fast. He sat the woman down next to him. "Explain exactly what happened the night of the crash, Edith."

She blinked a few times, taken aback by the greeting.

"What happened before you stepped in the car?"

"I was at school." She rubbed her forehead, luckily cooperating.

"Did you speak to someone at school? Someone you didn't know?"

Edith furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't remember it too well."

"Tell us what you do know," Jeff told her. "Please, Mom."

"I know... that I had a headache," she mumbled. "I asked for a paracetamol. I got it. After I took them, a man entered my office. He spoke about... new ideas for the school next year. I remember sending him away. He left, eventually, and I decided to do that, too. So I finished my coffee. He already took a lot of my time and it was getting late."

"How come you didn't tell us this yesterday?"

"I barely remember anything from yesterday."

"His pills can work hours after you took them. Depends on the kind," Minho muttered to himself. "Ma'am, did you take anything after the crash?"

She chuckled. "You don't have to call me ma'am after everything that's happened."

"Did you take anything after the crash?" He repeated, sterner.

"More paracetamols because I felt weird," she said. Then, her face paled and the bloodshot eyes widened.

"What?" Jeff straightened his back. "Do you know more?"

"I wasn't alone in the car," she murmured.

Immediately, Sahil turned to Minho. "You saw the car. Was she the only one in it?"

"I'm not sure. I saw the shadow of Edith's bun and recognized her car. I couldn't see if someone was next to her."

"There was," she whispered, rubbing her temples. "And there was a gun."

Sahil nearly threw hands. "This is too crazy for words. I refuse to believe someone held a gun against your head to kill my daughter and her boyfriend. That you got drugged, fine. But I can't just believe someone else was in the car."

"Besides, who owns a gun?" Jeff scratched the back of his head. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Not if the government allowed you to own one," Sam explained. "There's people, like the police, who have rights to guns."

"But the one who you say was next to you must've been someone that knows either Minho or Sam." Sahil shot a glare at Edith. "Do you remember what they looked like? Also, how did they get to you?"

Edith blinked again. "I remember being pulled into my car and feeling that cold thing against my head. It was too dark to see what he looked like."

"What did the man that visited your office look like?"

She was thoughtful for a while. "Blonde hair. I think in his forties. A bun—"

"Clarence."

She looked up. "Who?"

"Doesn't matter." Minho's jaw tightened. "But Clarence can't just own a gun. In all those years, I've never seen him walk around with a gun and yesterday, he didn't seem very different when I brought him that visit."

"Man, this is like a real crime scene," Jeff mumbled.

"Probably because it is." Sam exhaled. "Does anyone connected to Clarence own a gun? Maybe he, it sounds horrible, but, wants you dead because you beat him up multiple times."

"Clarence isn't the kind of person to spend that much energy. And he'd be afraid he'd lose my aunt as a client."

"I'm going to look in the car. Maybe the gun owner left something behind," Sam called, and walked outside. Minho followed without hesitation, and immediately helped her look.

"This is crazy," she mumbled, palming her face before she looked through the whole front seat.

After a while, her eyes fell on a silver, flat box. Almost like a medallion to put on a necklace.

"I don't recognize this." Carefully, she picked it up, and opened the medallion, her heart thumping in her chest.

"Is something in there?"

Her breathing hitched. "I think..." And she looked closer. "I think that's you, Minho."