His obsession: Becoming Vivian

Two-Run, Davina

Davina's POV .

As soon as I got to the Centre, I saw a cop car and Mr. Parker’s secretary was standing next to it, arms crossed, talking fast. My heart stuttered.

Shit.

I ducked to the side of the building, pressing myself flat against the cold brick. He had called the cops on me?

He was the one who tried to r**e me. How dare he?

I should’ve marched right over there and defended myself. Told them what he did. But what would it matter? No one ever believed the poor girl with no family, no money, no voice.

I leaned in closer to hear what the secretary was saying.

"Yes, Miss Davina Allen.....she was the last person who saw him alive. She told me to leave, that's what Mr. Parker said... so I went home."

Wait.

Did she just say I was the last person to see him alive?

No, that can’t be right. The only reason I told her to leave was because he told me to.

After she left, he checked to make sure she was gone. Then everything shifted. He started touching me, getting too close he even tried to pin me down.

I panicked.

I grabbed the nearest thing I could find….a bottle and hit him with it.

I didn’t even wait to see what happened next. I just ran. I didn’t look back.

But I didn't mean to .....kill him it was an accident....it was self defence

I could barely breathe. My stomach was twisting into knots.

It ....was .....self-defence.

"And she hasn't been here all weekend. She always comes here to eat, and we even provide her with a fresh pair of clothes. She killed him and stopped coming here," the secretary said.

But that’s not true.

I didn’t stop coming because I killed him , I stopped coming because I was afraid .

I didn’t mean to do it.

“It’s fine, we’ve got everything we need. Her pictures too. The bullet found in his chest was shot from a revolver,” the officer added.

Wait a minute.

A gun?

A bullet?

Then it wasn’t me.

I didn’t shoot him. I hit him over their head with a bottle.

But a revolver?

I don’t even own a gun. I can’t afford one.

“I should go clear my name. I can’t be wanted for murder.”

I whispered to myself about to step out from the side of building

"Once she's found she'll be taken in " the officer finished

They can't do that I can get a lawyer....ugh I can't even afford a lawyer but Mr Parker was billionaire he'd have a party of lawyers and I can't even afford my own toothbrush, I could look to the government but they’ll toss me to the first overworked, underpaid lawyer they’ve got.

My chest tightened.

I guess my only option right now is to run; they won't believe me.

I sucked in a few breaths , I turned around and left.

After I’d put enough distance between me and the shelter, I finally slowed down. The city felt colder at night, like it was watching me. Judging. My stomach growled, loud and hollow, but there was no place open this late.

The fifty bucks and the watch I’d swiped earlier? Practically useless now.

I rounded a corner and pressed my back against the wall, sinking down slowly. My legs felt like jelly. Everything did.

Could this day get any worse?

I wiped at my face, and that’s when I felt it—a tear slipping down my cheek before I even realized I was crying. I dug into my coat pocket and pulled out the crumpled handkerchief.

Yeah…..I know, I went back for it , It felt too personal to just leave there like it once mattered to him. Now it was mine.

I pressed it to my face, taking a deep breath. It still smelled like him.

That’s when I heard it.

"Excuse me, Miss Davina? ... you are Miss Davina Allen ,right?"

I looked up but didn’t answer. The officer studied me for a second, then spoke into his walkie.

“Found her. Round the block.”

He turned back to me.

"Miss Davina, I’m going to need you to come with me to the station. We’ve got a few questions."

I gulped down on nothing.

And just like that, Hunger wasn't my biggest problem anymore

~~~~~

“Why are we wasting time with an interrogation? We could pin this on her and call it a night.”

The fat one—Tim. I read his badge. He said it like I wasn’t even here . Like I didn’t matter.

I could use my one phone call… but who would I even call? I had no one.

“Not quite,” said the tall one—Peter. He looked at me like he liked saying it. “But we can definitely hold her.”

They’d said it’d be a few questions. I should’ve known better. They cuffed me the second I got in the car.

“Confess now,” Tim said, “and we can get you a reduced sentence. No capital punishment.”

My throat burned. I said it anyway. “I didn’t do it. And I’m not saying anything till my lawyer shows up.”

I had no lawyer. Not even a name to bluff with. I’d just seen it in movies some rich guy says, “my lawyer will handle it,” and poof, the problem disappears. That wasn’t me. I was just buying time for what, I didn’t know.

“Fine,” Tim said. “Then explain why you’ve got a hundred-thousand-dollar watch.”

That damn watch. I shouldn’t have taken it. If I told the truth, they’d twist it….say I stole it off Parker’s body, say I killed him for it.

Who even wears a watch like that in my neighbourhood?

I kept my head down, fingers picking at the raw skin around my nails. Tears stung.

“I didn’t kill Parker,” I whispered.

He’s the one who tried to r**e me. I couldn’t even say it. They’d twist that too.

Please. Someone help me.

But who was I kidding? I had no one. Maybe prison wouldn’t be so bad. At least they feed you. Better than starving, better than getting your ribs broken by loan sharks.

What if they hang me? Do people even get hanged anymore? But Parker was a billionaire that had to count for something.

I took a shaky breath. I was going to say it. Admit to a crime I didn’t commit. When he was the one who tried to hurt me.

Then the door opened.

Tall guy. Suit. Glasses. Leather bag. My stomach dropped.

More officers?.... I'm not interested in being tortured

“ye…..” I started.

“Who are you?” Tim barked.

“Attorney Lyon. Miss Allen’s lawyer,” the man said, already sitting beside me, opening his bag like this was routine. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic.”

“I’m sorry I’m late, ma’am.”

Ma’am?

He didn’t flinch at the three cops glaring at him.

“I’m going to need you to release my client.”

“Excuse me?” Tim snapped.

“Yes, you’re excused,” Lyon said smoothly. “But not before I inform you that I’ll be suing this department for wrongful detainment, interrogation without counsel, and probable cause violations. Judging by the bruising on her wrists, those cuffs have been on too long. And I’d wager you never read her rights.”

He pushed his glasses up like it was the final blow.

“That’s a hundred-million-dollar lawsuit.”

“You can’t walk in here threatening us,” Peter said. “She’s a murder suspect….”

“But she said she didn’t do it,” Lyon cut in, flipping his bag open. Calm, like he was ordering lunch.

He pulled out glossy photos and tossed them onto the table.

They both grabbed at them, flipping them over with more hunger than they probably realized.

“She has a strong alibi. At the time of the murder, she was at a local bar. Getting drunk,” he said. “You can check the timestamp yourself.”

I blinked.

How the hell did he know that? That was true….Friday night After I ran , The woman who gave me flip-flops had taken me to a Local diner after. She paid for a burger and fries, and I paid her back by crying into my soda. I didn’t think anyone knew that but me.

Tim flushed. Pink creeping up his fat neck “She never said any of this before,” he muttered.

“Her cuffs are still on,” Lyon said, his voice flat but sharp enough to cut glass.

Peter quickly unlocked my cuffs and they left behind red rings on my skin. I rubbed at them.

“We’re sorry about the misunderstanding, Miss,” Tim said.

“A proper apology,” Lyon replied coolly, “unless we’re talking about police brutality. And then we’re talking an extra fifty million to your existing suit .”

They both stood a little straighter. Gave a tight nod, murmured another sorry like it burned going down.

“We should leave, Miss,” Lyon said, tilting his head toward the door.

I followed. I didn’t even glance back.

He walked ahead of me, leading me out of the station like we were just two strangers sharing a sidewalk. Once we hit the air, I expected him to say something noble or slick. Instead…

“f*****g hell, I hate working,” he muttered, tugging his tie loose with one hand, the other raking through his hair.

He turned to me then. Really looked at me. Like he was trying to figure out what I was made of.

“Thank….” I started, but he tossed something at me.

I caught it out of reflex. The weight in my palm was familiar. Cold.

The watch.

My fingers curled around it. “How did you…”

“Tell him,” he said, cutting me off, “if he ever makes me work this late again… I’ll kill him.”

He gave me a lazy wave. A smile flickering over his lips like it didn’t quite belong there and I wasn't sure if I should feel relief or unease.

“Who….” I tried, taking a step forward.

But I didn’t get to finish the question, before someone wrapped a hand around my mouth and nose

I kicked and clawed at it but it didn't work, the watch slipped from my hand

And then the world tilted and I fell straight into the dark.