Unnamed

THIRTEEN – i think i was shocked enough but…

"Fay?"

"Marcus?" I had mixed feeling after hearing his voice. I didn't know whether to be relieved or sad that I found him. Or did he find me?

"Wha're ya doin' 'ere?" He didn't sound like his old warm self. His voice was guarded and stern, almost angry. He called me by my name instead of Kiddo. Could I take all those signs that I was in trouble? In the darkness, I could not make much of him except his unique eyes that shown like a cat's and his dark silhouette while his eyes skimmed over me as if he could see me as if there was a spotlight on my head.

"I- uh..." What should I say? He was not a fool and I hardly supposed that he was going to believe me if I told him that we ran out of beer and I was supposed to get it. "I don't know." It was safe to say when I knew I was lost.

He removed his arms from me and held my arm gently. "Kiddo..." he trailed off with a sigh that was weighing with pity. Trust me I would have been pitying myself if I was in his place. "D'ya 'ave any idea 'ow reckless it wa' of you to do t'is? This place is not safe. W'at if somet'in' bad 'appened to you?"

"I am sorry." I apologized with guilt forcefully churning in my stomach. If he would have scolded me instead of being concerned, I would not have felt this bad. The breath locked in my throat and tears started pooling in the corner of my eyes. I hung my head so that I didn't have to look at his sad eyes anymore. "I don't want to be here." I confessed since it was no use of hiding what was I doing. He knew this anyway.

His hand leaving my wrist, trailed to the top of my head. He patted me that only made the tears spill over. "Ya know that can't 'appen, kiddo." I knew that but did that stop me? No. I didn't want or hear it. "Lemme take you back before they find that you're not there. Do you 'ave any idea how outraged Dylan gonna be?"

I hadn't come all the way here just so that he could take me back. I impulsively backed away from him while shaking my head.

"I won't go. Even though you guys have been exceptionally good to me, I can't. This is not my home. I miss my dad and my life. Can't you see by keeping that away from me you all are making me depressed?" Even when I kept walking way in small steps, he didn't follow to catch me and that only made me wary. Was it his way of playing with the mind? Because it was working. I was conflicted between if I should run or stay.

"We 'on't wan' to hurt you, kid-"

"But you are!" I shouted over his voice. "I hate Dylan. He is a jerk and... And annoying. He plays with my emotions and mind. He bosses me around. I am constantly in darkness why I am here. No one answers me. Dylan threatens me when I try to ask anything. I am scared of him and what he might do. I am scared of you guys too because I don't know if you really mean what you say or our hanging out is just an act so that I would save you the trouble of finding me when I'd escape. I just want to go home."

"That's moving how high you think of me but little girls like you should not wander alone in forest past their curfew," it wasn't Marcus who spoke this.

My feet halted on the road. I turned so abruptly that I was surprised that I didn't strain my neck. He was standing behind me, hardly disheveled like he didn't have to go through any trouble to find me.

"Aren't you afraid of big bad wolves?" A half smirk graced his mouth but even I could see past that façade that he didn't like what he saw when his eyes examined my appearance.

I had no idea what to say or to do. Instead of figuring out my feelings, I tried to read his. He was furious, as Marcus had predicted he'd be. His eyes weren't even blue. They were black without any forgiveness in them. Tense muscles, throbbing veins in arms, curled fists, rigid shoulders were flashing red signs for me that I was dead.

"We shou' get goin'." Even Marcus was not unaware of the tension pouring out of Dylan. I was slightly thankful that he was making some amends to save me. It was much easier than to calm Dylan.

"Yes, we should. Fay and I have a long night ahead." To say I was scared senseless would be an understatement. When Dylan's eyes left me for some moments to look behind me at Marcus, I didn't think much. Acting upon instinct, I ran toward the forest. Dylan had not expected it, so I had only a head start of a few seconds before he would be on me.

"Don't make it worse for you, Fay." Dylan snarled taking after me.

Whatever would happen, I knew it could not be worse than being caught. I did not even want to imagine what he'd do with our long night ahead.

While I was making all sorts of noises while I ran, it was hard if I could hear his footsteps. I didn't let that deceive me in believing he had left. I knew this chase was not endless. It would end sooner than later. But I wish that I was not running in the direction of the mansion and that I'd find a way out before Dylan caught up with me. The pain in my ankle returned sharply as I ran on the uneven ground of the forest. The prickly and jagged branches of the trees hindered me by knotting randomly in my hair and dress. Small thorny bushes stung like needles as I stepped through them.

Out of nowhere, my same injured ankle twisted in a vine and I fell with a shrill scream. Not a second later Dylan was hovering above me. He didn't seem like he was chasing me with his even breaths and calculating eyes.

"I am not coming with you." I sobbed half from fear and half because of the unbearable pain in my ankle. As disturbing as that sounded, I thought my ankle was broken. Still flat on the ground, I scooted away from him.

"I have no idea whether to call your stubbornness bravery or naivety. Stop hurting yourself like this." He sounded awfully genuine and that's the sign that I should not trust him. Dylan could never be a genuine person. He was as bad as it came.

"Then don't come in my way when I walk out of here."

Deciding that arguing with me would only waste his time, he grabbed my hand and abruptly pulled me on my feet. Another cry of pain escaped from me. I had to lean on him so that I didn't fall.

"Don't tell me..." We both checked my feet and from the awkward set of my foot, it was obvious that it was broken. "You have broken your ankle."

"I want to go home." I demanded ignoring his previous comment. I wiped my tears and forced my voice in control.

"We have been over this, Fay and you know my answer. There's only one home you're going to and that's mine."

"I will not come. You can't make me."

"You will come and I will make you. Don't test me." His anger was rising with every word we exchanged. I wondered where Marcus was. Maybe if I begged him, he would try to convince Dylan in letting me go.

"Don't do this, please. I want to go home. I'd do anything you'll say. Just for once, please, let me see my dad. Please, I beg you." There was a manic urgency in my voice. When I say I'd do anything, I meant it literally. If he asked me to stay out in this forest all night without any blanket and torch, I would.

Dylan was always quick to make a decision in such situations. It was never hard for him to make me shut up in the ways he knew, such as threatening, locking me in a room, glaring, scolding or playing with my emotions to confuse me for good hours. For the first time, he seemed to run out of options. He was looking at me with mixed emotions such as anger, pain, sadness, pity, an unnamed emotion that I could not pinpoint. He looked as if he wanted to rewind this all to the point we were strangers in an art classroom.

"There's no dad, Fay." He finally said with so much pain evident on his face that even I could not say that he was faking it.

"My dad..." I didn't know what I wanted to ask because I didn't understand what he meant. "My dad is Paul Madison-"

He shook his head running a hand over his face that made me quiet. He covered his eyes with his palm as he breathed harshly. I had no idea what kept me rooted here. I should have been running away since he was too occupied with his own troubles.

"You dad is dead."

The silence that followed was never this deafening. Maybe I did not hear him right. I waited for him to say something else, correct the slip of his tongue. Right now my dad was trying to search for me. He couldn't be dead. I would have known.

"You're lying." I said with forced laughter that halted when his expression didn't change.

"There's a newspaper in the jeep. You can see it for yourself." He said.

Ah, I got that now. This was his plot to bring me to his jeep so he could take me back without much hassle. I knew my dad couldn't be dead. I never knew he could stoop so low. But then what did I know about him?

"You almost got me there but I am not stepping into your trap. I am not coming anywhere with you." I said hobbling away and just a step later, he caught me by my waist and hauled me on his shoulder as if I was a shopping bag. "Put me down!" I screeched, raking my fingernails on his back, pulling his hair, hitting him with my fists and whatever to make him stop. He brought us out on the road in no time. A jeep was parked in the middle of the road. The area around was illuminated by the headlight and taillight. Marcus was patiently waiting in the driver seat. Dylan put me down on the front seat.

"I am not coming with you." I tried to jump or of the jeep but he effortlessly pushed me back by my chest. I could see my future plans crumbling around me. After all the blood and sweat I had put in it, he was ready to snatch it away from me and put me back in a small jail that had become my life. The thought only made me fight harder. I ignored his warnings and Marcus' gentle advice as I kept thrashing my legs and hands to break away from both men. Anything, anything to be away from them and back to my home

"Fay!" Dylan's voice thundered in an inhuman growl as he raised his hand. Out of reflex, I curled my body tightly with my hands covering my face.

"No." I whimpered. It was so much low compared to Dylan's voice but someone it had the power to stop everything around us. For the second time in the night, I heard the silence where even the wind was afraid to disturb it while I was sucked back into a memory that I hoped was nothing more than a dream. Sadly, I had proof to back up that it was very real.

"I'm so sorry, Fay." Dad repeats. I cannot understand the words. Every sound around me is a dull hum. The pain has numbed me to consider what is happening about me. The blood dripping from my back makes me nauseated and I throw up again. Dad picks me up from the floor chanting same words and lays me on my stomach on the couch, careful not to disturb my back. "Do not worry, I will make it better," he kisses my forehead before leaving me.

I close my eyes thinking that this is mom's favorite couch. I feel bad that for all stains it'll get tonight. Dad returns sooner than I have loved too. I open my eyes, feeling his presence. He has something in his hand.

"I promise I will fix it, Fay," he says.

He doesn't know but a bowl of water, rags, antiseptic liquid, twenty-one stitched do not fix anything. The mark is going to be there always and I cannot forget about it just as I can't forget that what I saw, what I begged, what I heard and the pain my heart felt.

"He wasn't going to hit you, kiddo." Marcus said in a woeful tone as if he knew what I was thinking as he rubbed my back. I struggled to not to cry every time his hand hovered above the mark. It'd been a year but today it felt as if it happened just yesterday. I buried my face in Marcus' chest without making any sound. I had learned to remain quiet. I had learned that despite what he said, he was going to do what he wanted. It was better to let happen what was happening without much protest.

That was why I didn't demonstrate a word when Marcus shifted in the passenger seat with me still wounded tightly around him. Dylan started the jeep and that sound was a like the final nail in the coffin. I failed in my first attempt to escape. But the look on Dylan's face uncannily similar to dad was terrifying than the consequences following my little escapade. At this point in time, I didn't care what happened to me anymore as long as I get to sleep later.

The wind that until yesterday was soothing at night was severe tonight. I shivered unconsciously from the cold, or maybe it was terror. And soon, a numbness washed over me where I didn't even feel fear. It was as if I was in a coma while being conscious. My senses were alive but I was hopelessly dead to how to respond to them. I slightly raised my head from Marcus' chest and stared at the blurred forest we sped by. We were going unbelievably fast and it wasn't long before we were nearing toward the mansion.

The party seemed to be ended a while ago. Only a soft tune emitted from the speakers. Lights were still skipping on the dance floor. The food-stealing raccoon wasn't anywhere in sight. The only people remaining were Dylan's friends, I assumed, waiting for us by the glass wolf fountain. Dylan skillfully maneuvered the jeep in the driveway and killed the engine after parking it by the fountain. I carefully climbed out of the jeep after getting a small nudge from Marcus. No one knew what to say or do and I was too far gone in my thoughts to look at anyone. I put my weight on my good foot and rested my body against Marcus while the secretive glances were being exchanged. My eyes had started to droop with every passing second. Beth noticed that and decided to break the silence first.

"I will take her inside." Without guessing much, I knew she was talking about me. As soon as her fingers grazed my hand, I cowered back with a sharp intake of breath as if she had slapped me. "I..." she trailed off not knowing what to say, not knowing what to make of my strange behavior.

"We are not going to hurt you, Fay." Jean said in a motherly concern.

"There's no need of wasting time," it was Dylan who spoke. He didn't sound like his self-assured, authoritative self. He sounded more like he had fallen from a plane without a parachute and realized that he was still alive after landing on the ground. "You guys go. We'll head back to the cabin." Again, I knew that 'we' included him and me.

From the corner of my eyes, I watched him warily walking toward me. So many times, he had just dragged me with him by grabbing my hands or hauled me over his shoulder. If he would be in a less lousy mood, he'd carry me bridal style. Despite the sinking feeling in my heart, I waited for him to do what he always did when I'd rather have no one touch me right now. At the last moment, he stopped. His hand half raised, hung in the air before he pulled it back. "Marcus could you please, escort her. I don't think she can walk."

"Are ya ready to go, kiddo?" Marcus bothered to ask for my permission first. In answer, I peeked up at him for a brief moment before returning my gaze back at the ground. He picked me with ease and I was again on the familiar path leading to the cabin.

"Marcus, is my dad dead?" I asked quietly, mindful of the silence around me. Dylan had not shown me the newspaper and for a moment I was relieved thinking that he was lying. But there was a chance that he might have forgotten too between the disasters. I didn't know what I'd do if he was telling the truth. Probably lose, if any left, the hope of being free of this jail ever again. What would be there for me to return? As for living off alone, I didn't have much company here.

He avoided meeting my eyes. My gaze drifted to Dylan whose pace had reduced its speed. Feeling my questioning gaze on him, he inclined his head in my direction. Our gaze met and his were seemed to asking me to stop my curiosity right there. He never appreciated it and always told that it'd only cause trouble.

"You should sleep kiddo." Marcus whispered sympathetically.

"I won't be able to." I hoped my voice didn't sound as brat-ish and demanding as Dylan would call it. "But it's okay if you don't want to tell," I sighed lying my head back on his shoulders, "I cannot decide if I want to know or not." Last part was more for myself than for them to hear.

Marcus had to bend half of his body down just to enter the cabin. He couldn't go two steps without bumping into any furniture. So that he didn't cause any more damage to Dylan's pride home, he settled on the floor after setting me on the couch. My back was propped against the armrest as Marcus helped my feet from the boots. Even with his gentle touch and cautious fingers, it hurt immensely when boots came off. Dylan had disappeared somewhere as soon as we came in. When he returned with some newspaper in his hand, the familiar fear consumed my body all over again. Marcus noticed it too.

"I don't think it is a good idea," he said hesitantly. Marcus' words left me feeling betrayed. If he knew, why didn't he tell me this before? Did others know it too? What else was there that I didn't know?

"She'd know it sooner or later, anyways." Dylan responded icily. He disposed the papers in my lap without a word as he sat back and watched my every moment like a hawk.

"Fay, ya don' 'ave to..." Marcus warned but I was already looking at the months-old paper cuttings. It was printed on the international section. There was a smiling photograph of my dad in one of his signature sweater and Ray-Bans beside a bigger picture that was undoubtedly my house. There was a crowd gathered around it including blurred images some cops car and an ambulance. My eyes dreadfully moved up toward the headlines,

American designer of international jewelry brand Xevariya, found dead in his mansion.