Dancing With The Enemy

20 Years Earlier (Khloe's POV) They say the more you try to tear your eyes away from a scene, the more fixed your gaze becomes. I wanted to look away, to unsee what had just happened, but I couldn’t. My mind kept replaying the moment on a loop—my father, my hero, lying on the ground, motionless. All because I froze. I didn’t move when I should have. I didn’t help. Now he was barely clinging to life right in front of me. I stood there, paralyzed with fear, watching him. My legs, heavy as lead, finally obeyed my mind’s desperate pleas, and I found myself moving toward him, inch by inch. I reached out, my small hands trembling as they made contact with his cold skin. “Dad…Dad,” I whispered. The words came out in a shaky breath, barely audible. I knelt beside him, gently caressing his face, feeling the wetness of his tears. My father never cried. Not once in all my five years. But there they were, real tears, streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my little princess,” he whispered, his voice weak, trembling. “You shouldn’t be here.” “Are you okay, Dad?” I whispered, my voice so small and uncertain. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he rasped, trying to reassure me. “Go pick up the phone and call your Aunt Vera. Tell her to come over.” “Why? You said you’ll be fine.” “I will be,” he said, struggling with each breath. “But your aunt needs to come and bring your birthday cake, remember?” My little heart fluttered with confusion. He didn’t look fine. I wasn’t a baby. I could tell something was wrong. “Dad, are you lying? You look like you’re in pain.” He managed a weak smile. “Daddy isn’t lying. But I need you to do what I said, okay? Go to your room with your little sister and wait for Aunt Vera.” I didn’t argue. I just nodded, my heart pounding, and did what I was told. I walked out of the basement, picking up the phone in the living room with shaking hands. I dialed my aunt’s number, my voice barely above a whisper when she answered. “Hi, Aunt Vera.” “Hi, baby girl. How are you?” she asked, her voice warm and comforting. “I’m fine, but…I don’t know what’s wrong with Dad. He told me to call you.” “What do you mean, Khloe?” I could hear the worry in her voice. “A man came to the house…through the basement,” I began, trying to remember the details. “Dad went down there, and then I heard a loud noise. When I went to see, Dad was on the floor. He’s not moving.” I heard her sharp intake of breath. “Where are you now?” “I’m in my room with Tonya.” “Okay, sweetheart, listen to me carefully. Lock the door and stay there. Don’t come out until I get there, okay?” I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Yes, Aunty V.” I hung up the phone and went to sit by Tonya, who was busy playing with her toys, blissfully unaware of what was happening. “Will Daddy be okay?” Tonya asked, her small voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Yes,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Aunt Vera is coming to help him. And she’s bringing my birthday cake.” Tonya’s face lit up at the mention of cake, and she went back to her toys, her innocence untouched by the horror unfolding in our home. Soon, I heard sirens in the distance, growing louder as they got closer. The house was suddenly filled with footsteps, followed by a scream—a gut-wrenching cry that tore through the air. It was Aunt Vera. I didn’t have to see her to know that something was terribly wrong. Her scream said it all. “No! Johnny, no!” Her voice cracked and broke as she sobbed, begging for the impossible. “God, please, no!” I squeezed Tonya tighter, trying to block out the sound, trying to pretend that none of this was real. But deep down, I knew. I knew my father was gone. The next few hours blurred together. Aunt Vera came into the room, her face streaked with tears. She tried to keep it together for us, but I saw through her brave façade. “Oh, my girls,” she whispered, pulling us into her arms. “We’re going to go to my house tonight, okay? Just for a little while.” “Is Dad gonna be okay?” I asked, my voice shaking. “You didn’t bring the cake, Aunty.” She hesitated, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Your dad…will be fine,” she said softly, though her voice cracked as she spoke. “And your cake is at my house. Why don’t we go there and celebrate your birthday?” I didn’t respond. I just nodded. --- Fast forward 18 years, and birthdays still haunt me. I was turning 23 today, and like clockwork, Aunt Vera had brought me a cake. The small gesture that once brought joy only served as a reminder of the past. I hate birthdays now. I hated celebrations of any kind. “Happy birth—” Aunt Vera began, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “Aunty, please,” I said, not even looking up. “You know how I feel about this. I love you, but no.” I couldn’t do this, not today, not any day. “But baby—” she tried again, but I was already walking toward my room. “I’ll be in my room,” I said, closing the door behind me. Inside, Tonya sat on her bed, reading. As soon as she saw me, her face lit up with curiosity. “What’s up, Khloe? What did you find this time?” she asked, already sensing the excitement bubbling beneath my surface. I handed her my phone with a smirk. “We just found our target.” Her eyes widened as she read the screen. “No way.” “Yes way. It’s time, Tonya. We’re finally going to get what we deserve.” This was it. The moment we had been waiting for. Our plan was about to unfold, and nothing was going to stop us. Not this time.