Tamed Heart

Chapter 2

Tessa’s POV

I never knew how exhausting it was to bury someone you love… until the day we buried my father.

It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion.

It wasn’t just the hours of standing, greeting people, nodding like a machine while my insides slowly collapsed.

It was deeper than that.

Heavier.

It was the kind of exhaustion that sank into your bones and refused to leave… like grief had weight, like it was something solid pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

People kept coming.

Endless faces.

Endless voices.

Endless sympathy.

Most of them didn’t even really know my dad.

Yet they stood there, shaking their heads like they understood what we had lost.

Like they had the right to mourn him.

I hated it.

Every single second of it.

They thought their words were comforting… but all I wanted was silence.

Just silence.

Just a moment to sit beside what was left of him and feel everything without interruption.

But no.

The house was filled.

People everywhere.

Voices everywhere.

Faces I didn’t recognize.

Faces I had never seen before.

They came dressed in black, some in white, their expressions carefully arranged into something that looked like sympathy… but to me, it felt like noise.

Too much noise.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“He was such a good man.”

“Be strong, my dear.”

“God knows best.”

That one.

That one made something inside me snap every single time.

God knows best?

What exactly did God know?

Did He know how my father’s body looked when it hit the ground?

Did He know how his blood felt in my hands—warm at first… then slowly turning cold?

Did He know what it felt like to hear your father struggle to say your name… his lips moving, his voice failing… and then nothing?

Did He know what it felt like to scream and get no response?

If He knew all that… then why?

Why did He take him so soon?

Why did He leave us like this?

My chest tightened painfully, like something inside me was cracking open all over again.

My heart wasn’t just broken.

It was shattering… over and over again.

And their words—

Their useless, empty words—

Didn’t comfort me.

They scratched at my wounds.

They reopened everything.

Every sentence felt like a reminder.

A cruel reminder.

That he was gone.

Gone.

Forever.

I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging into my palm as I tried to hold myself together.

But I was already falling apart.

Then suddenly, the corps pulled in.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Everyone became silent.

My heartbeat quickened instantly.

Hope—dangerous, fragile hope—rose in my chest.

It was the same man in charge of my father’s case.

Finally.

I didn’t even think they would have a report so soon.

I rushed toward him before he could take another step inside.

“You found something, right?” My voice came out breathless, desperate. “You found him?”

They didn’t respond.

For a split second, something flickered across his face.

Guilt?

Avoidance?

I couldn’t tell.

But I didn’t like it.

“Tell me your found my dad killer!”.

“I’m sorry, dear,” he said quietly. “The case has been closed due to lack of evidence.”

Everything inside me… stopped.

The world didn’t spin.

It didn’t shake.

It just—

Stopped.

“What…?”

My voice came out hollow.

“What do you mean… closed?”

I stared at him, waiting—hoping he would take it back.

“I told you,” I continued, my voice rising despite myself, “I saw the killer. AE-6888. That’s the plate number. I gave you everything!”

My heart was pounding now.

Loud.

Violent.

Like it was trying to break out of my chest.

But the police men didn’t even had the guts to look me in the eyes as they spat their lies.

None of them would.

And that’s when it hit me.

They were hiding something.

Something wasn’t right.

Anger exploded inside me.

Sharp.

Blinding.

I grabbed his shirt without thinking, my fingers tightening around the fabric.

“Are you even doing your job?” I demanded, my voice shaking with fury.

“Or are you just going to stand there and lie to my face?”

Gasps echoed around us.

But I didn’t care.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Not dignity.

Not respect.

Not the crowd watching.

All that mattered was the truth.

And they were burying it… just like they buried my father.

Suddenly, he shoved me.

Hard.

I stumbled back, my ankle twisting painfully as I struggled to keep my balance.

For a moment, I almost fell.

The room went silent.

Completely silent.

All eyes were on us.

But no one moved.

No one said anything.

My mum rushed over immediately.

“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice filled with confusion and fear.

I looked at her, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

“They closed Dad’s case,” I said, my voice breaking despite my effort to stay strong. “They’re letting his killer go free.”

Her face fell instantly.

Shock.

Pain.

Disbelief.

“Young lady,” one of the officers snapped harshly, stepping forward, “there’s no strong evidence to support your claim of murder. We investigated, but there’s nothing.”

Nothing?

I felt something cold settle in my chest.

Something dark.

“If you’re not satisfied,” he continued, his tone dismissive, “you can hire a private detective.”

A private detective?

I let out a hollow laugh.

Was this a joke?

My father was dead.

Murdered.

And this was their solution?

I stared at them, my eyes burning.

“You’re lying,” I said quietly.

They stiffened.

“You didn’t even try,” I added, my voice gaining strength. “You just want this case gone.”

No response.

No denial.

Nothing.

That silence…

That silence told me everything.

They turned and walked away.

Just like that.

Like my father’s life meant nothing.

Like his death didn’t matter.

Like we didn’t matter.

I stood there, frozen.

Powerless.

The justice system wasn’t broken.

It was rotten.

Completely rotten.

Nobody cared about the truth.

Nobody cared about what really happened.

They just wanted it over.

Closed and forgotten.

I turned to my mum desperately, my chest tightening.

“They can’t do this!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the hall.

She pulled me into her arms immediately, holding me tightly like I was still a child.

“It’s okay, dear,” she whispered softly. “Let it go.”

Let it go?

The words hit me harder than anything else that day.

Let it go?

My entire body stiffened.

Slowly, I pulled away from her.

My eyes searched hers, hoping—begging—to find something else.

But all I saw was fear.

Fear… and surrender.

“No,” I said quietly.

Then louder.

Stronger.

“No.”

Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

Not this time.

Not in front of everyone.

“I won’t let this go,” I said, my voice trembling with something fierce. “I can’t.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

“They think they can just close his case like it means nothing?” My voice rose, shaking with emotion. “Like his life didn’t matter?”

People were watching.

Whispering.

But I didn’t care.

Let them watch.

Let them hear.

“I saw him,” I continued, my voice breaking but refusing to stop. “I saw the man who killed my father. I heard the car. I saw the plate number. I remember everything.”

My chest heaved as the memory threatened to drag me under again.

But I held on.

To the anger.

To the pain.

Because it was all I had left.

“I will not forget,” I said, my voice dropping into something cold.

Something dangerous.

I looked toward the door where the police had just walked out.

My jaw tightened.

“They may walk away from this…”

My heart pounded harder.

Faster.

“But I won’t.”

The room felt suffocating.

Too small.

Too full.

Too fake.

“I will find his killer,” I said, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning.

A promise.

Not just to them.

But to myself.

“And when I do…”

My voice hardened.

“I will make them pay.”