The Lies That Binds

10:45 pm, Friday.

Her heart thumping hard, her palms glistening wet, warm tears streaking her cheeks, 13-year-old Callie drew her knees to her chest as she heard her most dreaded footsteps approach nearer.

"Oh, Callie..." His grave, hoarse voice called out for her in a sing-songy tone, a mischievous sneer plastered across his face. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Deliberately, he pushed open the door to her room, its creaking sound sending waves of panic down her spine.

He poked his head inside, the stench of the alcohol from his breath and body oozing off him and filling the room. "Don't be a little brat now, come out, let's play." He slurred, as he staggered into the room, the floorboards squeaking softly under his bare, filthy feet.

His bloodshot eyes roamed her bed. She wasn't on it, but as he traced the warmth on the bed with his palm, he knew she had just gotten off it. Calista's heart raced wildly in her hiding spot, her head throbbing with headache. 'Not again, not again. Please, God.' She prayed in her thoughts, her eyes shut tight in terror.

Her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she swallowed hard. He was just feet away from her now. So close it made her stifle a whimper.

"You're not going to keep Daddy waiting, will you?" She heard him ask, her mind reeling with the implications. She didn't want to offend him more than she already did by hiding from him. Again. But he always found her. And each time he did, her punishment was worse than the previous.

So all she could do was sit still in utter fear and pray her father didn't find her, even though a part of her knew her prayers wouldn't be heard.

Just then, the closet door violently swung open and Callie felt her heart drown. "No!" She cried in utter dismay, her face twisting in a mixture of terror, despair, and disgust. Daddy gazed down at her, his yellow, rotting teeth bared in a dirty grin, his eyes filled with lust.

Suddenly, he outstretched his hand and with an aggressive yank, he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her out of the closet, her wails following behind and echoing off the bedroom walls.

Callie kicked and flailed her hands in the air, struggling to break free from his vice-like grip. The more she struggled to break free, the more she aggravated him. Angrily, he turned to her and yelled in her face, "Quit struggling!" But Callie didn't listen. She couldn't let him have his way. Not tonight. Not anymore.

With sheer rage, desperation, and extreme frustration, she kicked with both legs. One leg crashed onto his left knee, the other crashing against his groin, in between his legs. "Arghhhh; Fuckin Bitch!" Daddy groaned and yelled in pain. Callie's eyes widened in horror as she saw him swiftly regain his composure, his high pain tolerance evident.

The look on his face was pure, unadulterated anger, sending icy shivers down her spine. She knew, in that instant, he was capable of killing her.

"I'm going to kill you!" he bellowed, his words echoing the terrifying thought already racing through her mind. As she struggled to scramble to her feet and flee for her life, he lunged at her, his fingers closing around the collar of her nightdress like a vice. With a savage jerk, he slammed her back into the wall mirror, the glass shattering into a thousand shards as her head and body crashed against it.

He released his grip, and she crumpled to the floor, rivulets of blood dripping from the back of her head, as dizziness and disorientation washed over her.

In that vulnerable moment, Callie couldn't make out the muffled insults and abusive bellows that rained from her father's lips. Not until he climbed on top of her body which was sprawled barely unconsciously on the floor.

Her adrenaline pulsating high, her hatred for him simmering, her despair and frustration for freedom all charging to fight back, she voiced. "No!!!" Raising her hand against him in protest.

"I said, quit struggling!" Daddy roared, his face purpling with rage, as Callie blocked his aggressive touches with one and frantically stretched and scrabbled for a weapon with the other.

Finally, Callie's hand closed around a jagged shard of the mirror by her side. And with a swift, deadly motion, she swung at him and struck it deep into his throat, blood gushing out immediately.

But she didn't stop there. She got up, yanked it out of the gruesome wound, and thrust it in deep, again, again and again, bathing herself in his own blood. Memories of the pain and abuse she went through in his hands flooded her mind, encouraging her to thrust more, harder, and faster. Until she could no longer see him through her blood-soaked lashes, her vision blurry with tears and blood.

Then she stepped away from him as his body instantly thudded lifelessly onto the ground, her chest heaving.

Callie stood over him, an unknowing feeling of satisfaction washing through her.

* * * * * *

Then came the verdict day. A day the entire Ohio state grandly anticipated. The story of a thirteen-year-old girl murdering her pedophilic father in cold blood blew up faster than an atomic bomb. The news, magazines, and social media content creators took it upon themselves to make the story well known. And the curious citizens of Ohio, oblivious to the full story, couldn't wait to know if the killer was a victim who acted in self-defense or a psychotic killer who savagely killed her own father out of spite and rage.

Callie was seated in the dock. She sat motionlessly, the handcuffs slipping off her slender wrist. Her face, pale-colored and devoid of any emotion, was still marked with a purple bruise from the trauma she endured many nights before. Her eyes were fixed forward but were fixated on nothing exactly, lost in a cold, hard stare that could pierce a soul.

The courtroom was packed with so many people Callie was unable to recognize. Well, not like she tried to, given how dissociative she had been with her surroundings. All of these people had no relation to Callie; they were just concerned, curious-looking citizens who came to witness the child's verdict firsthand.

However, amongst the humongous people was Lovelyn Bloom. Callie's aunt and prosecutor. The only relative with her in the courtroom, and the only relative she knew of.

The ambiance of the courtroom was nothing short of unnerving. Lovelyn Bloom continuously but silently tapped her right shoe against the cold floorboards. With her fingers tightly interlaced with each other, she swallowed hard with anticipation, and so did many amongst the crowd.

After many minutes of murmuring, exchanging glances and signals, the jury foreperson finally walked over to the podium and handed the verdict to the Judge. In a minute, the judge thoroughly scanned the verdict form. He looked up, adjusted his spectacles, and then tapped the microphone. With a knowing glance at the fragile-looking defendant, Judge Constantine spoke aloud.

"Having reviewed the verdict form, it is hereby the finding of this court that the defendant is found... NOT GUILTY of the crimes of second-degree murder on the grounds of self-defense."

The courtroom instantly erupted in gasps of relief and murmurs. Lovelyn Bloom tightly shut her eyes and said a silent grateful prayer before opening them to smile happily upon Callie, who still sat unfazed by the court's readings.

"The defendant is discharged and is free to go." The judge finished with a bang of his gavel against the bench, as he rose to exit the courtroom. The audience in the courtroom followed suit.

It was now the end of the case, but it was also the beginning of Callie's new life. From the corner of her eyes, she watched as her aunt approached a man and a woman whom she once referred to as Child Services. "Child Services," she heard a little voice in her head whisper back to her with fear. Her aunt had made it clear that she wasn't going to raise her. Not with her three stubborn sons and two stepdaughters. Therefore, Callie's fate was now laid in the hands of this odd-looking couple.

After a brief exchange, Lovelyn Bloom signed the papers given to her and then handed Callie over to them. She bent over to Callie's ear, her eyes filled with contrived sorrow and worry -Callie thought.

"Heyy kid..." she began. "I did my part. I made sure you got justice, and I'm sure your mother must be happy." She smiled awkwardly.

"But this is where we say farewell now," She followed Callie's gaze, which was fixed heavily on the Child Services agents. She didn't like them already.

"You're going to meet a new family, and I trust that Mrs. Mathyr and Mr. Rogers will

l take good care of you."

Will they? Callie hoped.

9 years later.

The Grand Hotel.

Selangor, Malaysia. 8:30 pm.

At a prestigious gala night party, hosted strictly for the créme de la créme of the society, Calista Bloom stood out as the center of attraction. Her stride was as elegant and majestic like a queen, yet it was fierce and unbridled like a lioness in the wild.

She looked alluring in her black silk front slit dress that caught all her curves perfectly, and showed a flattering amount of cleavage. She had a faux fur shawl scarf wrapped around her shoulders, a Christian Louboutin heels on her feet and a Louis Vuitton handbag in her hand.

She had ginger-red mane for hair, which she styled in a sleek, gelled-back ponytail. Her unique eyes were a pair of sage green orbs that matched her olive green dangling earrings and necklace. And her light make-up did nothing but enhance her ethereal beauty.

The soft clinking of champagne glasses and the muted hum of conversation filled the air as Calista made her way through the crowded room.

'My one and only love' by Wonder Eve -a mellifluous, slow jazz music was playing in the background, pleasing the ears of all who could hear.

The sweet scent of perfumes and the subtle aroma of exotic flowers wafted around her, mingling with the faint tang of cigar smoke. The warm glow of crystal chandeliers cast a flattering light on her tan skin, making her shimmer like gold.

As she sauntered down the aisle, she felt the gazes of both men and women on her. Yet, she had her eyes on one man only. The host, her target.

With her second target firmly in her sights, Calista's gaze locked onto the briefcase clutched in his hand. He stood in all his glory and splendor, surrounded by four imposing bodyguards. Each man was armed to the teeth, their eyes scanning the crowd with a mixture of paranoia and hostility.

Undaunted, Calista gilded effortlessly towards her target, her captivating smile and sultry voice poised to disarm even the most skeptical of individuals.

On sighting her, Mr. Xang's eyes sparkled with intrigue. The middle-aged half-American, half-Chinese businessman nodded discreetly at one of his bodyguards, who stepped aside, allowing Calista to draw closer. Mr. Xang's gaze remained fixed intently on hers, his interest palpable.

"You must be Mr. Xang," Calista said, her voice husky and confident. "I've heard so much about you."

Mr. Xang's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, his gaze roaming over Calista's cleavage down to her curves. "And you are...?"

She smiled even more radiantly, flashing her aligned dentition. "I'm Jennifer. It's an absolute pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Xang."

"Please, call me Marcus," he said, his voice low and smooth. "It's lovely to meet you too, Jennifer. I must say, I find you to be the most stunning lady in this room tonight."

Calista laughed, a passionless sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "I think you're charming, Marcus. But I have to say, I'm intrigued by your...reputation."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh? And what reputation might that be?"

She left out a sly smile. "Let's just say I've heard rumors about your...business dealings. And your rather...adventurous personal life."

Marcus chuckled, his eyes locked on Calista's. "I think you're trying to get a rise out of me, Jennifer. But I have to admit, I'm enjoying the banter."

Calista's gaze never wavered. "I'm just getting started, Marcus. Would you like to dance?"

"Absolutely!" Mr. Xang answered delightfully. "Perhaps, somewhere more private? My suit, per se?" He proposed.

With a mischievous smirk, Calista replied. "I think I'd like that."

And just like that, he was enthralled by her beauty and gave in to her subtle seduction.

This was her domain now, a world where deception and seduction were mere tools of the trade. Calista was a master of manipulation, a chameleon-like operative who could blend into any environment and assume any identity. Her mission was clear, and she would stop at nothing to ensure its success -no matter the cost in human lives.

Inside his lavish hotel suit, Calista's eyes followed him closely as he uncuffed the briefcase from his wrist. Next, he went over to the dresser table where a digital safe box sat. Using his thumbprint he unlocked the safe and deposited the case into the safe before relocking it.

He then turned to face her, a charming smile spread on his face. "I have encountered the most beautiful women of the world, but you my dear, are a discovery." Mr. Xang said in a steamy tone as he settled onto the bed, undoing his tie with one hand and reaching out for her with the other.

Calista took his hand, but he suddenly pulled her into his laps. She could feel her skin crawl, her thighs tingling with irritation. Reluctantly, she leaned in, and instantly masked the disgust and revulsion in her face with a flirtatious look.

"I'm flattered, Marcus," She purred.

"No. In here, I'd prefer you called me 'daddy'" Mr. Xang sounded more dominant. He leaned in closer, his eyes roaming all over her breasts. "And you'll be my pet, and you'll do whatever it is Daddy wants you to do." He whispered his demand huskily.

"And..." She breathed into his face, her lips a few inches away from his, "what would daddy want me to do?" She demanded.

A mischievous smirk spread across Mr. Xang's face. "Strip," he commanded, his piercing gaze seeming to strip her bare already. Calista's eyes remained locked on his, a flicker of hesitation dancing across her face before she unleashed a sly, playful smile. She stood up and took a deliberate step back, her fingers moving to unzip her dress.

"Slowly," She heard him add like a warning.

And she obeyed. Slowly, her hands behind her, she zipped down her dress.

Pulling down the arms of the dress, her perky bosoms shot out as if screaming to be freed from the black lacy camisole that held them in place. Her exposed skin glistened under the dim light, and with masked contempt, she watched Mr. Xang licked his lips in admiration.

She slightly swayed her hips left and right as she slowly pulled down her dress, and then off her legs. Now leaving her with only her sexy black lingerie and heels, she stepped closer to Mr. Xang.

He instinctively swallowed as he barely stopped himself from drooling at the sight of her. His eyes burning with desire, and glistening red with arousal, his lips slightly parted. 'Remarkable.' He thought. Remarkable, she was indeed.

As she deliberately approached him, his eyes trailed from her cleavage to her toned belly, and from her deep belly button to her slim waist. Before he could look further down, she was so close to his face, enveloping him in her sweet, intoxicating perfume.

She spoke so softly. "Like what you see... daddy?" She bent forward. "Hmm?" She moaned in his ear, pushing him down to the bed with one hand.

He let out a dirty chuckle as his back landed softly on the bed. "Hell, yeah!"

She smiled. A dark, sinister smirk. "Too bad." She whispered, her right hand discreetly trailing to her back.

"Huh?"

"Because that's the last thing you'll see before you die." As these words tumbled out of her mouth, she swiftly retracted the tanto dagger she had preparedly hidden underneath her bralette. And in the very next moment, her eyes flashing with anger, she savagely slashed his throat.

Mr. Xang reflexively grabbed his neck with one hand, choking and gurgling in his own blood while his clothes and the bed sheets got drenched with it. But Calista didn't wait to watch him die before she unleashed another form of brutality on him. Using the Japanese blade, she violently grabbed his right hand, pinned it to the bed and chopped off his thumb.

Then she got up, went over to the safe on the dresser. She unlocked it using the detached bloody thumb and retrieved the briefcase.

As Calista finished cleaning the blood from her skin and dressed, her victim's lifeless body stared back at her, eyes frozen in a permanent glare. But what was supposed to be a meticulously planned mission was soon disrupted by an untimely intrusion.

"Room service!" a cheerful hotel staff announced, sauntering into the room with a skimpy maid gown, bold makeup, a wine and two glasses in hand-without knocking.

Her smile instantly faltered as her gaze fell upon the blood-soaked bed, and she unleashed a blood-curdling scream that alerted the bodyguards.

In a minute, the four bodyguards, who had been waiting patiently for their boss, burst into the room with urgency. Calista, anticipating the chaos, had already secured a hiding spot, ready to weather the impending storm of bullets.

"Bitch!" the first bodyguard spat, his eyes widening in horror as he approached Mr. Xang's lifeless body. "Find her!" he bellowed, his face purpling with rage.

But Calista was ready. Suspended from the chandelier by the curtains she had shredded to match her purpose, she aimed her gun at the bodyguard's head and fired. He crumpled to the ground, dead. The remaining three bodyguards looked up, but Calista's speed and accuracy proved too much.

With two silencer guns blazing, she took down the two closest to her with precise shots, then turned her attention to the last one, who had just missed her. He fell to the ground, joining his comrades. The maid, who had inadvertently betrayed Calista's position, was long gone, but definitely traumatized from the carnage she saw.

With a fluid motion, Calista dropped down from the chandelier and landed gracefully on her feet. She swiftly tucked her compact handguns into her clutch bag, her mind already racing ahead to her escape.

Time was of the essence; more bodyguards would arrive soon. She slipped into the bathroom, where she smoothed out her dress and applied a fresh coat of lipstick.

Gazing into the mirror, she lingered on her reflection, a mix of emotions swirling within her. This was her new reality, a life of calculated kills and narrow escapes.

And the most unsettling part? She reveled in the thrill of it all-the art of seduction, the power of manipulation, and the satisfaction of outsmarting her prey and accomplishing her missions.

Next, Calista retrieved her phone and snapped photos of Mr. Xang's lifeless body and the briefcase. She sent the images as an encrypted message to a contact identified only as "PS JOHN DOE," along with a concise message: "TARGET SUBDUED. KOMPROMAT RETRIEVED. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED."

Almost instantly, three dots appeared on the screen, indicating a response was forthcoming. The reply arrived moments later: "MISSION COMPLETED. CONGRATULATIONS AGENT BLOOM! YOU HAVE TWO HOURS TO LEAVE MALAYSIA. A FLIGHT BACK TO WASHINGTON DC. AWAITS YOU. DON'T BE LATE."

With a sly smirk, Calista replied, "I'M NEVER LATE." Without awaiting a response, she pocketed her phone and stepped out onto the balcony. Her clutch bag, an undercover grappling hook, was swiftly dismantled, and she fired it downwards, retrieving the rope.

She returned to the café stall, where her belongings were stashed. Her ponytail was untied, unleashing a cascade of vibrant, ginger-red hair onto her shoulders.

Swiftly, she changed into a travel tracksuit, packed her remaining items into a box, and erased any evidence of her presence in the bathroom.

Within an hour, she was at the airport, awaiting her 8-hour flight back to Washington, where it all began.