Pain and Choice

4.2 ***

The air seemed to be more suffocating today than usual, or maybe it's just her feelings. Viola hopes it's only a feeling, but she's been having it recently; all eyes are on her. It's almost too close, and the sensation is resurrecting feelings she's kept concealed for far too long. It's as if the fate of the world is pressing down on her, and she can't get away from it. She senses eyes boring into her body, almost as if they can see straight through her, and she can see them all around her. It's a feeling she's been trying to ignore, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. She doesn't appear to be able to keep running from her past indefinitely.

She keeps ducking down as she takes some time for herself, till she finally manages to gather herself and takes another pick as she glances over the kitchen on the bus to the customers eating their food. There's a young couple sharing a plate of spaghetti, and the girl is giggling as she feeds her boyfriend forkfuls of the pasta. An elderly man is reading a book and sipping a cup of tea. A mother is trying to soothe her crying child. And a group of teenagers are laughing and joking and being loud. Everywhere she looks, there are people living their lives. She feels like she's suffocating, like she can't breathe.

It's been days since she started acting funny, and Clare is already having enough of it.

"This is annoying," Clare whispers in a disappointed voice as she knocks on the bus, startling Viola from where she is hiding. "We're completely packed, and you're playing hide and seek with a ghost," she shakes her head, smiling back at a passerby.

Viola exhales a sigh of relief and clenches her white tent dress as she gently stands up, looking across the gap at her sister, who is muttering in disappointment.

"I’m okay," she nods as she forces a smile on her lips.

"Look, love," Clare closes her eyes and wets her lower lip, thinking about how direct she can be with her at times. Her heart suddenly sinks as she realises she doesn’t want to be alone. After all, she feels frightened because she thinks she is being watched and trying to talk her into going back home and staying alone would only mean feeding her to her paranoia. "I understand that you’re scared and you need to calm down a little. There’s no point in hiding here for hours, because we will end up in this position again and again for nothing."

"I’m scared, Clare." She looked over Clare's shoulder, and her gaze was pulled to Hamilton, their now-regular customer, striding through the mob towards them, as if he were the only thing alive. "Oh s**t! He's here, again," she says to Clare as she starts breathing heavily. The fear is palpable in the air as Viola's eyes meet Clare's. She can feel her heart racing, and her breathing is short and shallow. He looks like a predator on the hunt, and Viola can't help but feel like she's his prey. "I don't like it, him," she explains and exhales heavily. Clare turns to look behind her and swallows hard, turning back to her sister as she recognises Hamilton.

"Please, Viola," she says through her teeth as she turns to face her. "You're overacting. Breath, try to calm down," she says, calmly trying to help her mirror her reaction. But it's too late; Viola is already in full panic mode. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and her breathing is coming in short, gasping breaths. She can feel the sweat beading on her forehead and her palms are starting to get clammy. She's rooted to the spot, frozen in fear, as Hamilton gets closer and closer.

Before anyone realizes, Viola turns around and dashes out of the bus, heading in the opposite direction, away from Hamilton and her sister, who is sprinting after her. She is completely taken aback, assuming Hamilton is the one following her based on his frequent visits to their bus over the last three days.

"What's going on, Clare?" As soon as Hamilton catches up with her, he asks, and she shakes her head, pausing her run to explain to Hamilton.

"She..." She is looking at him in dread as he walks backwards ahead of her. "She has a phobia," she shrugs, her voice unsure as it sounds more like a question than a simple explanation. Tears are already streaming from her eyes as she shakes.

"Stay," he yells furiously at her. He just turns around and sprints after Viola, who is fleeing. The distance she could travel would be obvious if it weren't for the long tent dress, making the run more challenging.

Viola looks back and widens her eyes when she realises how quickly Hamilton is closing in on her. Her thoughts are racing to the worst-case conclusion, and she is now scanning around for another way to get away from him. The side walk she's on is getting closer to a beach barrier on her left side. It is there to avoid the rocky path, which is plainly lumpy even from a distance, avoiding even a little mishap from occurring as a result of losing balance before reaching the sand.

She's in deep shock, which appears to have depleted her energy for a scream, and she's gasping for air while she deliberates over what's on her mind right now. She merely chews her lower lip and begins climbing over the barrier, her dress twisted around her feet.

Hamilton simply jumps over the barrier and reaches out to her, assisting her in crossing to the other side. She abandons her fight mentality and begins to attentively assess what he is attempting to do. He is assisting her in running from him, but alongside him. He keeps her gently in his right arm, a powerful embrace wrapped around her extremely small waist, and proceeds on the short, but extra carefully selected step forward on the bumpy rocky road to reach the sand. Her feet were slightly dangling, her left hand grabbing his t-shirt and her right hand on his arm around her waist.

Clare is peacefully watching the senary from behind the barrier, her hand over her head producing a shade from the light so she can easily gaze over them. She is perplexed, but she wants to give it a try. She knows Viola needs something new in her life, or else nothing will change. She looks around and observes some people looking at them puzzledly, and one or two of them are faces she recognises as one of her customers. As she establishes eye contact, she forces a smile and shakes her head. "All right, let's go back now," she adds, her voice booming. "Everything is OK," she says as she heads back to the bus, ready to replenish her batteries.

"What exactly do you want from me?" Viola closes her eyes and asks Hamilton a question. He walks down to the beach silently, holding her in his embrace. He doesn't appear to be prepared to answer her inquiry. He clearly has a goal in mind, and he intends to achieve it one way or another. "What?" she finally whispers, her voice trembling and her body shaking slightly in his grasp and her eyes still closed. She's clearly given up hope of ever escaping him.

The sun is streaming down on them, and the sand is warm and soft. The sound of waves breaking on the shore surrounds them. Viola reluctantly admits to feeling safe in Hamilton's arms, but she knows she can't stay there indefinitely. She must devise a way to get away from him. She must find a way to return to her sister, where she feels most secure.

He slowly assists her in coming to a halt, and she opens her eyes only to be met with his blue eyes that twinkle at her. Despite what her other side tells her, she has a feeling his motives are good. He raises his brows at her and flashes a grin on his pink, dry lips. He turns around and walks closer to the coast, his back to her, and she stays, staring at him and around them. As much as she wants to flee, she also wants to know what he is up to.

"f**k life!" he cries, his arms stretched horizontally, and Viola looks at him puzzled. It's real bark, and she can actually feel it. She wants to do it sometimes, but her timid self pulls her back indefinitely. He yells at the top of his lungs once more, and she gasps. He looks to be doing what she secretly desires. In his last scream, some young fellas on a nearby yacht take over and shrill it back in admiration, creating a celebratory vibe.

He turns to her, surprised, and glances at her, then back to the sea in admiration. Her tilted pure hazel brown eyes appear unable of concealing her delight, despite her heart-shaped lips, which make a gorgeous apple. He takes long steps back to her and stops at the appropriate distance between them.

"What do you want?" he inquires, and she frowns, perplexed. "You are not required to respond right now. Please take your time." He takes a look around, while she looks down. She is taken aback that he has to ask her a question she is entitled to ask.

"Take my time telling you what I want?" she says, and he smiles. A question is a certain way to start a conversation. This is a good starting point. Her voice sounds innocent, and he wishes he could hear her speak more.

He confirms, "Yes. Why not? So far, I've been able to assist."

"Wo..." she pauses and shakes her head, turning away, attempting to hide her disappointment beneath her laughter. "Who are you? Why should I reveal anything about myself to you?" She barks at him and begins to walk away, hoping to find her way back to the bus.

"I'll be here when you're ready," he promises. She turns around only to see him as he is lying on the sand. She turns around and proceeds on her walk to get back to the bus stop, some part of her expecting him to follow. She looks back and blows a stream of air, seeing him laying down but stealing a glimpse of her. She takes a breather before returning to where he is lying.

"I don't need anyone's help," she says as she glances down at him, still laying down comfortably. As he rests his head on his arms, his muscles exude strength. "Leave me alone," she says, making a fist with her hand parallel to her chest.

"Wow," he exclaims, sitting up and gazing out at the sea, and she deepens her furrow lines. "All this rage is incredible, but honestly," he laughs, looking down between his feet, his arms lying on his knees. "I just wanted you to know that it's hilarious that you came back to tell me to leave you alone."

“Wo…” she hesitates and turns on her hills once again but he rushes up and holds her on her arm, which she spastically snatches back to herself and he holds his hands in the air.

“All good,” he assures her the grin fixed on his lips and she is staring at him breathing heavy. “Look, you’ll lose nothing to give it a shot,” he says to her and she shrugs back.

"To what?" she inquires. Hamilton finds her innocence, fear, and on-and-off vibe appealing, and he enjoys it.

"Confine yourself to a stranger. Tell me nonsense." As he thinks, he bites his lower lip. "I'm not sure," he shrugs, taking a look around. "s**t, all over me?" he asks, cringing, as she recoils in disgust at what he just said. They both laugh and remain silent for a brief period. "I mean, not like that, but, you know," he tries to explain himself, and she nods to him.

"My sister needs my assistance," she adds, moistening her lips and turning around, unwilling to walk. "By the way," she adds as she turns to hug herself. She attempts to excuse her actions "You were simply being nice to me, and I was following an unsettling impulse. It's nothing personal."

"That's an excitingly lovely impulse," he says, as she tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I was in need of that, but there has to be a way to compensate for my day, right?" he gasps, looking at her. She narrows her gaze and presses her lips together in the center.

"You seem fine with getting dirty," she observes, her gaze drawn to his sand-splattered all black style. "Are you a good cook?" she wonders.

"I must warn you that I am awful." He nods, his hands tucked into his jeans, and she beckons for him to join her on the walk.

They make their way back to the bus, Viola leading the way and Hamilton following. Viola's heart sinks as she notices her sister offering a service while cooking. To Clare's surprise, she rushes around the bus and onto it.

"Thank God," cries Claire as she embraces her. "I think he's good at talking to you," she says, her cheeks imprisoned between her fingers, and Viola smiles with an eyeroll.

"You go about your business. I'm attempting to apologise in our own manner," Clare laughs mockingly as Viola shows her the kitchen on the bus. She glances out the large kitchen window at the people outside.

"I got it. Why don't we just let him take you somewhere else? I'm not sure, maybe for a change of scenery," she adds, looking out the window to where he is waiting for Clare to get off the bus. "That large man on this bus to cook with you might come out as a stressful thank you," she says, attempting to emphasise the space provided by the bus.

"I'll be staying. This is my domain " Clare understands where the conversation might go if she pursues Viola a bit harder.

"Then, I'll go do my thing," she says as she steps off the bus, smiling as he boards.

He glances around the bus's kitchen. It's small, cramped, and the counters are cluttered with clean dishes, but cozy. He's a touch too big for the space, but he understands he has to keep it short with activities. He'd probably send something along or witness her getting busy as she did most of the work. He wants to do everything she wants, and this is a good place to start. He's looking for more touch with each movement. It would remove her fear of him and increase her trust in him. It would be easier in a smaller environment, and he would be able to feel her as well as see her.

"Clare introduced you as Hamilton. I'm guessing the ideal basic introduction is made through her," Viola explains as she begins to wash the lettuce. Her hands are slender and delicate as they move deftly through the water.

"You never know, maybe it's the beauty in the name Viola that keeps me returning," he smiles, and she nibbles her bottom lip gently.

The kitchen is modest but the aroma is powerful, like fresh baked bread and roses. It smells like home. Everything makes sense now that he has been graced with her beauty; her body moving in her tent dress, and he can see her breast through her dress straps; the more she moves, the more he is drawn to her. His body reposes before her beauty. The light from the window shines on her face, and he can see her eyes twinkle as she looks at him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat. He knows that he needs her in ways he can't explain to himself.

He stays in the kitchen for a while, watching her prepare the meal. the smell of chicken roasting in the oven and vegetables cooking in the pan. He smelled her perfume. It was sweet, like lilacs. The smell of the cooking food fills his nose and makes his mouth water, but it's just an additional need, for the main purpose is to have her all for himself. He would fight his attention back to the smell of bacon, frying eggs, and steak sizzling on the grill.

Despite how hard he wants to keep it polite, his mind would once again snatch him back to how she smells; like the outdoors and the woods, like a spring rain after a long, hot summer. Her skin was lightly scented with lavender, her hair with rose and he would think to tear her dress off her, but he knows he cannot. In fact he wants her to like him, need him as much. Her voice was a light lullaby, rising and falling, sweet as a bell, light as a sigh and he would think how she might sound in bed and she would catch him biting his lip hard while staring at her. He would smile and she would frown turning back to her work he then imagines kissing her, slowly and tenderly. He imagines her lips touching his, her tongue teasing his mouth, pulling him closer. He wants her in every way possible.

She even forgets he's here at times. She would try to grab things on her own but then seek his assistance. He was glancing at her as she interacted with her sister and smiled at her. He wants her to glance at him for a split second, and when she does, it drives him wild. He desires more than this. He desired her. He likes to have her pass by him, touching him slightly.

He suddenly starts to feel his body tensing in a way he can't control. He stands, and just as she turns around, he bumps into her and looks down at her. He presses his hands against the bus's celling, creating comfort for the way things are right now.

"Sorry, I have to go," he explains himself to her, and she looks up to him. He is looking away as he fights to avoid eye contact with her.

"Have supper with us, we’re about to take a break now," she suggests, and he swallows hard and she looks at his Adam's fruit moving hard.

"I'd like to save that for another day," he says, looking down at how close they are to each other. He can feel her slim body touching his, and she can feel his body; it's clear how he feels about this right now. "I want us to be this close every time," he says as she clears her throat and pulls herself away.

"Good night," she says quietly, turning away.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he adds, biting his bottom lip as he goes off the bus.

She hoped he wouldn't do it. She despises how she is instantly drawn to him. One part of her thinks he's trying to catch her in his trap, while another begs her to trust him. She'll find out if she can be close to him only if he shows up tomorrow as promised.

***

George takes a long stride inside the cave. He hadn't seen his friend in a long time. He had hoped that today's news would narrow the space between them.

The cave's entrance and the cave itself have changed dramatically. Ben is working hard to make it feel like a home rather than an abandoned passageway. It's wider now, and there are lights illuminating interesting aspects of natural edifices. There are numerous maintenance help items available. The smell of nature has prevailed since his first visits, and the sound of water droppings has stopped. When he looks to his left, he sees Zeno working out in his boxers, his muscles on display. He doesn't appear to be cognitively disturbed, but rather to be blending in with his surroundings.

George laughs as he notices three photographs behind Zeno, each of which shows Viola busy while cooking. As he takes a seat in front of the cell, he shakes his head.

"Do you really need her that badly?" George asks simply. Zeno pauses his pull up to think before continuing, and he grunts as he proceeds. “I any ways bare news to kill for,” he stands and walks closer to the cell. "It's about Mrs. Turner," he adds, and Zeno stops exercising and moves up to a towel, which he grabs. As he dabs the towel on his chest, he is intently listening to him.

George can see he cares about what he has to say to him. "I had no idea Jenna, I mean Mrs. Turner, was this old. She was at work this morning, tarnishing it to ash." Georges' narration surprises Zeno. "Relax, metaphorically. I needed to calm her down," he continues, animatedly describing the fact that he had to hug her.

"I thought everything was under control." Zeno menitons as he stills a glimpse of George's forcful smile.

"It still is. That’s the news." Georg swallows hard as he fights against his watery eyes. "For her, I think this is the first last blow. We took her out," he says as he focuses on him.

"What?"

"Out of business. She has only the shop to support her. Is that not good punishment for what she tried between us?"

Zeno has formally stated his displeasure with what George is telling him. "I don't care about her, but she has nothing to do with the first transaction. I mean it when I say you made a mistake." He exhales deeply as he pushes his hair back and draws a small line between his lips. He starts pacing back and forth, shaking his head in disappointment.

"I honestly don't know who you're concerned about, but it was clean. We plucked her stones and made it evident to the buyers."

"What the f**k!" Zeno yells. “Her transaction is not with her buyers directly. Dimitry and Anton are both involved. She is the third wheel, with a very small portion of the pie. Are you aware of this?" He yells at him.

"Do you think we'd leap right in without doing our homework? Z, it's already finished, and we're in it. She's still alive; we simply gave her a life-threatening fear. That's it. So, rest assured she’s okay."

Zeno attempts to alleviate concern; "Anton cannot be trusted. There's a reason no one ever saw his face." He explains to George, who is deafeningly underestimating his concern. "You should notify Hamilton to calm down." As George starts walking out of the cave, he begins to project his voice. "George, listen, he will punish him for touching his belongings," he yells, pressing his head against the fence that keeps him in. He pleads, "George!" but George has already left. "f**k!" he exclaims, turning around and tossing the chair into his cave. "He'll make sure someone pays for the trespassing," he adds meekly, his head in his hands.

Only Zeno can say anything about Anton because his job requires him to know information about him. Anton is practically a myth among assassins, yet he works for himself. There's a merciless ghost on the loose, and his friends just touched what belonged to him without his permission. Many Zeno's friends, in the same line of work, gossip about him. And yet he has never met anyone who would claim to have met him, and if there ever was, they too would not have a day to tell the tale.

***

Everything was going well for one minute, and then it all went awry. This was not in the plan, but it is already happening and he is powerless to stop it. Hamilton is on the ground, having been shot in the left side of the chest. He can feel the warmth of his blood seeping through his shirt and into the sand beneath him. He remembers the bullet flying through his back out his chest and striking Marko in the head. The magnitude of the bullet is obvious, as is the fact that he was the primary target.

He is out of breath, and the scent of sand from the ground fills his nostrils. He can hear the screams of the people around him and the sound of gunfire in the distance. He knows he needs to get up, but his body is not responding. He can see the light starting to fade from his vision, and it feels like he is dying. He recalls the sound of Marko's body hitting the ground and the sound of the shooter's footsteps closing up.

Everyone is tense from the events, and it's clear this has nothing to do with the transactioners. Every one of his and Marko's security is shooting, but they are shooting at no one. He is starting to struggle to breathe as freely as he possibly could. It was just a shot and that was enough to take him and Marko out. It's from someone with a good view and a professional job.

"Cease fire," he can hear one of his security personnel screaming as George rushes to him. He's fighting to stay awake as he feels them drag him out of the abandoned site and into a car.

"You'll be good. Stay with me, hurry!" George is reluctant and unesy. Voices are faint in Hamilton's ears as visions are getting blurrier.

Everything comes into focus for Hamilton all of a sudden. Maybe she'd expect him, maybe she wouldn't, but he had the chance, and it could slip through his fingers.

"Viola," he whispers with withering energy before collapsing in Georges' arms.