You Are Mine, Little Sister

RALI

I have always wanted a big brother.

My friends in school had one, and I liked how protective big brothers were.

This was why today was the happiest day of my life. Because for the first time, I was going to have a big brother!

I had imagined this moment a hundred times. But never like this. Never with my heart pounding in fear instead of excitement.

"They're here!" I squealed with joy when I heard daddy's car drive in.

Mummy's laughter trailed behind me as I ran out of the house, going to wait in the front porch.

I could feel the butterflies of excitement fluttering in my stomach. They were finally here! I was going to meet my new friend. My new brother!

Yesterday, I'd asked mummy if I could consider him my brother since he was adopted, and she told me yes.

I giggled, impatiently waiting for daddy to stop the car and come out with him.

The tapping sound from the side of the front door distracted me for some seconds as I turned to stare at the bird in its nest. Our uninvited tenant.

I smiled. Her name was Pixie-name given by me. She'd built a nest close to one of our windows, automatically making it her home. Mummy had wanted to shoo her away, but I begged her not to.

She was really nice. Although, she did make some disturbing sounds sometimes-like now-but hopefully, my new brother would get used to it and get to like her as much as I do.

Just a few hours ago, I had been showing Pixie to him through the window, telling him how she sang to me every morning.

I turned back to the car when I heard the car doors opening. Daddy came out first from the driver's seat. The passenger door opened. I held my breath, my cheeks flushing. Then, he stepped out, and the air seized from my lungs.

He was finally here!

Excitement crushed me instantly, but it faltered before I could get my legs to move.

The new boy....he seemed different.

Last night, I'd overheard mummy telling daddy he was twelve years old. But the boy before me didn't appear the way a child should.

Yes, he was young, just like me. But...he had a drawing on his arm. A tattoo!

I flinched, my brows furrowing.

Some time ago, mummy had told me it was wrong for kids to have tattoos. She'd said I could only have one when I was eighteen and decided that it was what I really wanted.

But the new boy was just twelve. How did he have one already?

There was something else about him that sent a cold feeling down my stomach, killing the butterflies in an instant. I couldn't really explain it, but he didn't look as lively as other kids. He looked very cold, quiet. Unfriendly.

I shook my head, quietly scolding myself for judging him when I haven't even welcomed him. Mummy had said it was wrong to judge people when you didn't know them.

So, putting my smile back on, I run to him, feeling excited again.

"Hi! I've been waiting for you!" My smile was at the brightest.

Unfortunately, he only stared coldly at me, not acting like the other kids in any way.

"I'm Zerali, but they call me Rali," I pressed, extending my hand for a handshake.

But his reaction was just the same-barren and dreary.

He slowly lowered his eyes to my extended hand but didn't take it.

My smiles finally vanished, an ache piercing my chest. What was wrong? Didn't he like me? But mummy said I was a very likeable person. A lot of people liked me when they met me for the first time.

Daddy stepped in, clearing his throat. "Uh... He just needs to rest, Rali. You two can catch up later."

I dropped my hand, my chest swelling with a painful emotion. Maybe I should run to my room and cry. I felt rejected.

Mummy had already come out of the house and stood beside me.

"Hello, cutie. How're we doing?" She bent forward to the boy, ruffling his hair with her fingers.

But he was still cold and emotionless. What was wrong with him?

Mummy glanced at daddy before looking back at the boy, chuckling. "So, what's the name huh?"

"He wouldn't tell anyone," Daddy answered, probably saving mummy the stress of repeatedly asking him.

I frowned, now glaring at the boy. How could someone be so grumpy? I didn't like him!

"Oh," mummy forcefully chuckled, touching her ear. "Well, I guess we can fix that, can't we? Come on, now. I prepared lunch already."

Putting her hand around my shoulders, she turned away with me, leading me toward the house.

"Hi, Rali," a strange voice suddenly said.

Mummy paused, same time I did. Surprise shadowed my face as I whipped around to face him.

It was my new brother. He finally said something.

"H-Hi." I smiled.

But even if he'd acknowledged me, the look in his eyes remained cold, dark and unwelcoming.

-----------------------------------

Later in the day, I overheard mummy and daddy talking in the kitchen.

"Mr. Andrews said he was brought in like this less than a week ago. He barely speaks to anyone, prefers being alone and won't even tell them his name," Daddy said.

"A boy his age having tattoos? What the hell happened to him?" Mummy asked in a whispered tone, slicing some veggies on the island.

"Well, they don't know what happened. They just found him on the streets, beating up another child. They discovered he was homeless and took him in. They think he'll be fine if he stays with a loving family. Thank God we volunteered."

I felt bad for my new brother and tried getting closer to him, but he was always so cold towards me.

When I offered him some candy, he told me he didn't like them and rejected them.

He wouldn't play with me, watch a movie, or read stories, not even when my bestfriend, Jasper, came visiting. He was always in his room, playing puzzle games-the only kind of game he loved.

Three days after his arrival, mummy gave him a name. But he didn't seem to like it and always ignored it whenever we called him by it.

Then, I began to notice something strange. He was always staring at me.

When we were eating at the table, his eyes were mostly on me. When I was playing in the living room and think he's in his room, I'd suddenly spot him watching me from a corner.

It became a little unsettling as he never said a word and wouldn't join me, either.

But one night, I woke up to see that he'd eaten some of my candies.

I didn't get mad that he took them without my permission. I was rather surprised that he ate them after he said he didn't like them.

Then one day-a week after his arrival-he did one of the most unbelievable things.

I was playing with my sketch book in the living room when I heard a bird squawking.

Jumping to my feet, I ran out and found the most terrifying sight. My brother had Pixie with him, his hand around her neck, strangling her.

My legs froze, my face paled and my eyes rounded like they had seen a ghost.

I wanted to scream but couldn't. Words died in my throat.

He strangled her so hard, her neck almost detached from the rest of her body.

When he finally turned to look at me, I found my voice. But my tongue felt as though it had doubled in size.

"What did you... What have you..."

I couldn't speak properly. He threw dead Pixie to the ground, a frown on his mean face.

"She wouldn't stop whining," he uttered the words like he'd just gotten rid of a mere toy.

That was when my throat loosened and I screamed-so hard, I fell on my butts.

-----------------------------------

Mummy and daddy were as shocked as I was, and it was even more frightening that the boy didn't seem to understand what was wrong.

I cried for a long time, both from the loss of Pixie and the fear of living with a 'monster'. Of course, he was a monster. Only monsters could do what he did.

This was not the kind of brother I'd dreamt of having.

That day, mummy and daddy had an argument about it.

"We should send him away. That boy is clearly not stable." Daddy insisted.

"No! He just needs more care and attention. We should set up meetings with a therapist instead."

"Honey, he killed a little bird with his bare hands! It's something I could never do myself. And this boy is just twelve! He's insane!"

For the first time, I wished mummy had listened to daddy and sent the monster away. But at the end of the heated argument, she won, managing to convince daddy to give my brother some more time.

But I refused to sleep at home and spent the night with Jasper. Jasper's mum and my mummy were close friends. And since Jasper and I were best friends, his mother didn't have an issue with having me for the night.

Jasper comforted me, promising me he was never going to let the monster hurt me.

But the next day, I was home and my brother gave me a strange look as he watched me get into the house. It made me really nervous, I kept a lot of distance between us.

Things got a little more uncomfortable when he started seeming angry whenever Jasper was around. He wouldn't play with us, yet he always looked at Jasper in a way that unsettled me, like he didn't like the fact that he was with me.

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One night, something strange happened.

I was deep asleep when I felt a light caress on one side of my face. At first, I turned, thinking it was mummy. But then I hear a light whisper, "Mine."

My eyes fluttered open and further stretched when they fell on the face of my brother, the monster. A small scream slipped past my throat as I sat up.

It was in the middle of the night, and here he was, sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning into my face and watching me like an item.

My skin crawled with fear. For some reason, I didn't feel good about this. I didn't feel good at all.

I wanted to scream for mommy and daddy. But part of me-a part I hated-wanted to believe he really just wanted to spend time with me.

"Wh-What're you doing here?" There was a quake in my voice as I asked.

There was a look in his eyes that got me even more anxious. For someone as young as him, he possessed so much darkness in his eyes. So much frost.

I didn't think he was going to respond because he hardly did when I asked questions, but much to my awe, he said, "I wanted to spend some time with you."

I should feel happy. My big brother wanted to spend some time with me for the first time. But something about the way he said it made me feel uneasy. Plus, it was very late. Why would he sneak into my room like that?

Also, I still hadn't gotten over the bird situation.

"I-I don't want to. It's late," my lips trembled slightly as I responded.

I was still sitting up, my hands grabbing the sheets beside me. I just wanted him to go.

He stared at me for a while before leaning into the bed.

"Why?" I didn't think it was possible, but his voice turned colder. "Why can't I be with you?"

"Just go!" My voice rose a notch.

Having him there with me, alone in my dark room flooded me with memories of Pixie being strangled to death by him. He could easily do the same to me. Right?

If he didn't leave any sooner, I might have to call for mummy and daddy.

But thankfully, it didn't get to that point as he pulled away and stood up. He glared at me, making me see that he was angry, and for a moment, I feared he was going to hurt me.

But fortunately, he just turned and left.

-----------------------------------

Four days later, the worst happened.

Jasper and I were playing in the backyard, laughing and running heartily. I got dirt on my face, and as Jasper tried to clean it off for me, my brother appeared.

"Get your hands away from her," he ordered.

He was always looking angry whenever he saw Jasper and I playing, but today, he looked angrier. Vengeful. I'd never seen anything like it.

"Hey, what's going on? Is there a problem?" Jasper asked, genuinely confused as he dropped his hand from my face.

His face grew harder. "You don't get to touch her. Not anymore."

My brows knitted in a frown as I watched him, perplexed. What was wrong with him?

Jasper scoffed. "What're you on about? Why can't I touch her? She's my friend. Besides," he returned his hand to my face, wiping off the dirt. "I was just cleaning her up."

What happened next came swiftly.

My brother picked a wood that had been on the ground and attacked Jasper with it. A scream left my throat as I watched Jasper being hit on the head, his legs, and other parts of his body.

I collapsed to the ground, screaming and crawling back on my butts. Fear like never before fully gripped me.

Jasper went limp on the ground, blood coming from a side of his head.

My brother still had the wood in his hand as he looked at me, and I felt my lungs stop pumping air immediately.

I whimpered and moved away, wanting to go as far away from him as possible. But being on the ground made it impossible, and soon, he was crouching in front of me.

His eyes still looked dark and wrathful, but they held a hint of softness as he lifted his hand to my face. I closed my eyes and screamed again, thinking he was going to hit me, but instead, he brushed some loose strands of hair away, tucking them behind my ear.

"Little sister," he muttered, his finger caressing my cheek.

I shivered, tears rolling down my face.

Then, he whispered the very word I'd heard that night: "Mine."

I didn't know then that word would haunt me for the next sixteen years.

RALI - Twenty-three Years Old.

My hands were clammy with sweat as I stared at the entrance for what felt like the hundredth time.

A shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn't from the chilly breeze sneaking in from the rooftop terrace where I sat. It was that tiny voice in my head, mocking me that this was going to be like every other time.

Deep down, I already knew he wasn't coming. I had learned to recognize that feeling-the hollow ache of being forgotten before I was ever truly seen.

Sweat trickled down my neck despite the crisp November air. My fingers tapped an uneven rhythm on the edge of the table, the only thing keeping me grounded as anxiety crept up on me like an unwelcome guest.

My phone buzzed beside me. Sighing, I reached for it and read the text message from Veronica.

Veronica: Hey, babe. How's it going? Don't tell me you two are kissing already!

A sad smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I typed back a response.

Me: Well, we're definitely kissing. Right here in my imagination. We're the perfect couple.

It took her longer to reply this time, and I could imagine her being affected by the news.

Veronica: Ohhh, I see! So he's that type of guy-mysterious, invisible, possibly imaginary. Definitely a keeper!

I laughed, the heaviness in my chest easing a little. Well, she definitely knew how to make bad situations a little better.

Another buzz.

Veronica: Just hold on tight, honey. I'm sure he's stuck in traffic or something.

I rolled my eyes.

Me: The last time, you said the last person's wallet probably went missing and he's stuck looking for it. Now, this?

Veronica: Well, I might just be right this time. Just hold on, okay?

I sighed wearily, dropping the phone and staring back at the entrance. Still, no sign of him.

I decided to stick to Veronica's words anyway and wait some more.

Veronica was my adopted sister. I was eight months older than her, and it had been so easy bonding as she was a very funny and lively person.

Mummy and daddy had brought her in two years after 'he' left. After the horrible incident that left me traumatized for a really long time.

Memories of that horrible day flooded my mind. Eventually, the monster had vanished after beating Jasper to unconsciousness. I'd called for help and fortunately, Jasper survived after meeting the doctor. But he kept his distance from me and was no longer my friend.

It was a loss that ran deep and made me cry for several weeks. It also made me detest the monster who was my brother and hope I never get to see him again.

He never returned home, and it's been sixteen years already. There was still no news of him. I honestly hoped there would never be.

I glanced at the watch on my wrist. 8:15 PM.

We'd agreed to meet at seven, yet here I was, my half glass of wine the only companion I had.

Resigned, I signaled a waiter, cleared the bill and left.

A weight like stone settled in my chest as I walked down the quiet street leading to my home. I was grateful I'd picked a place close to my apartment this time so I didn't have to go through the hassle of finding a cab.

The chill of the evening breeze kissed my face, yet it didn't do much to cool the burning humiliation in my chest.

It always happens. I'm never lucky.

Halfway down that street, that feeling returned-a cold prickle spreading across my skin, raising the hairs on my arms.

I turned quickly, hoping to see someone, but I'm met with the rows of parked cars and shadowy houses lining the street.

There was no one-like always.

A small frown creased my brows.

Someone was watching me.

For a long time, I'd been getting this feeling. But each time I turned for a look, I never find anyone. Yet, I couldn't shake off the instinct that there was someone around, keeping an eye on me.

-----------------------------------

I was about to scan my fingerprint on the door lock when it sprung open, revealing Veronica, her red hair loose around her shoulders. She must have spotted me through the window.

A flurry of emotions crossed her face before she settled for sadness. My glum expression had already told her it was a disaster as always.

She was speechless. I shrugged, brushing past her into the warm apartment we shared.

"Rali-" She started. I heard her close the door.

"Seriously, it's fine, Nica," I cut her off. "I get it. He was probably on his way when he ran into a lady who's prettier than me and decided to spend some time with her." I spoke casually, bending over to unbuckle my denim sandals in the middle of the living room.

I could feel Veronica's heated glare on my back. "Don't you dare-"

"Or maybe, he had a rethink and probably hit himself in the head for even considering asking me out to dinner in the first place. Why must he waste his time with someone like me?" I spoke over her again, still not looking at her as I finished with my sandals.

"Rali! I said stop it!" She snapped, marching over to stand in front of me.

I stood barefooted with my sandals in my hands now, and I rolled my eyes, bracing for her lecture. It was practically a tradition by now.

"I've told you-you're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And I'm not even saying this because you're my bestfriend or sister or whatever. I'm saying it because it's the truth. You know me, Rali; I don't mince words to please people."

Well, that was correct. If there was one brutally honest person I knew, it was Veronica.

She wasn't the first person to tell me I was beautiful.

Growing up, I'd enjoyed a lot of attention from both genders, but for some odd reason, it never led to anything good. The boys who showed interest in me always ended up becoming distant. Sometimes, they just vanished, and when I happen to meet a few others, they ignored me like I never existed to them.

It was heartbreaking, and despite my good features, I was forced to believe I wasn't good enough for anyone. Maybe I wasn't as pretty as I thought.

Veronica went on, talking about self confidence, worth, my beauty, bla bla bla. I've heard that lecture a thousand times I was pretty sure I'd score an A if there was an exam for it.

"I know," I said with exhaustion when Veronica finished. "It just sucks being a virgin at twenty-three, you know?"

"I-I understand. But you know we could just find you a hot one-night stand, right?"

I shook my head.

My eyes caught onto her laptop. I gave her my disappointing look when I saw the content on her screen.

"Seriously? You still reading about him?" I cocked a brow.

"What is wrong with reading about him? Everyone does!" She rolled her eyes like I was the weird one.

"Nica, the guy is dangerous, a murderer and a psychopath! He's no different from the men he haunts."

"Nobody's disputing the fact that he's dangerous, but he's... Void you know? It's hard not to crush on him."

I still couldn't understand how they could crush on someone like him.

Nobody even knew who he was. He was like a shadow who continuously wrecked havoc on his enemies.

From what I gathered, he named himself Void because he was known to not have feelings. He tortured and killed mercilessly, and it was amusing how after all these years, he was still leading.

He singlehandedly weakened the link of the Underworld-a world filled with bad men who did bad things. He killed and sent a lot of the leaders running. I'd have respected him for that, but I didn't think he did any of that to please people. If you ask me, I'd say he was only trying to satisfy his ego of making himself the King of the world.

Nobody knew what he looked like, but a lot of people knew and feared him. And seriously, I hope I never get to meet him.

Why would I even? People like me never get to meet people like him anyway.

"What would you want to eat? I baked some fish pies!" Veronica shouted from behind as I started toward the stairs.

"Your fish pies are horrible." I didn't turn for another glance as I ascended the stairs and reached my room.

I tiredly dropped the sandals on the floor, tossed my bag, aiming for the bed but it ended up on the floor instead. I ignored it and removed the rest of my clothes, then proceeded to the bathroom.

It hurt, though-not being in love. Not even knowing what it feels like.

My whole life, I've always wanted to love and be loved passionately. It was the reason I was still a virgin. I didn't want to engage in random emotionless one-night stands like Veronica and the rest. I wanted to give my body to the right man, under the right circumstances, knowing fully well that he loved me.

I wanted my first time to be epic and romantic. It's always been my wish to have a smooth love life. But now, I was starting to consider Veronica's advice and go for a one night stand.

Being a virgin at twenty-three was exhausting. I've had too many imaginations already, and my arousal was getting harder to control.

I wasn't sure I could wait anymore. Perhaps, true love was never for me. Or maybe-it had been stolen from me before I ever had a chance to find it.

VOID

My hands, clad in black gloves, gripped the knife tightly as I dragged it along the wall, savoring the grating, metallic screech it made.

Eric-who was in charge in the room I was headed-obviously stopped doing whatever it was he was doing because the fucker stopped crying.

I slowed my steps, still dragging my knife along the wall.

"We could go on forever, Dubrov. I don't tire easily," Eric said.

I heard the man's heavy pants before he managed a rasp reply. "Go to hell! I already told you, you're wasting your damn time! I don't know where he is."

"I'm actually trying to be nice here," I heard Eric say. "Believe me, it'll be a lot easier if you cooperate with me."

It was then I reached the doorway, leaning against the frame and letting my gaze settle on the scene before me.

The room was dark, oppressive, and full of tools that had only one purpose. Metal tables bore instruments of agony: pliers, hammers, knives-each one well-used.

It was a room where certain people went in and didn't come out alive. A room filled with the stale mask of fear.

Sensing my presence, Eric who had been crouching before the captive, glanced over his shoulder to give me a look, and amusement crept into his eyes when he saw me.

The captive, on the other hand, his wrists and ankles bound tightly, visibly recoiled at the sight of me. The weak front he had put up against Eric crumbled instantly like a wax figure melting in a fire.

His battered face, swollen and streaked with blood, paled to a ghostly white.

But the bruises on his face were clearly not enough. Otherwise, Eric would've gotten some answers from him by now.

I tucked one hand into the pocket of my puffer jacket, keeping my eyes on him and watching as a new fear ate him up.

He forced a hard swallow that sent his Adam's apple sliding upward.

"You see?" Eric shrugged, turning back to the man. "I told you I was the nice one. Now, you brought the mean one over."

He stood up, and the man's face grew paler than a normal person would think was possible.

Sometimes, I found it embarrassing how grown men couldn't withstand a little pain and fear. They take all the fun away.

"No, No," the man shook his head, swallowing hard again.

He was clearly speaking to Eric, but his terrified eyes were on me. "I... I already told you everything I know. Please! You have to believe me. Don't leave me with him."

Disgust churned in my gut. Pathetic. If his hands and legs weren't bound, I was damn sure he'd have been on his knees, grovelling at Eric's feet for salvation.

"Okay," Eric casually shrugged. "Let's say I do believe you. But I don't think he does." He gestured toward me with a grin.

The fucker's eyes fucking glistened with unshed tears. God-dammit. Did we still have real men in the world?

I kept my eyes on him as Eric moved to the center of the room, doing whatever on the table.

At the far end of the room was Miles who stood like a sentinel, watching the scene like it was a movie.

I waited a beat, then pushed off the doorway and stepped into the room.

"Leave." It was an order.

Eric and Miles didn't hesitate, the door groaning shut behind them. But I knew they wouldn't go far.

The captive whimpered, shutting his eyes tightly, as if willing the entire scene to dissolve into a bad dream.

Humans always did this-retreat into imaginary worlds where nothing hurt and everything was safe. Pathetic.

That tendency to escape reality rather than confront it head-on was what made them weak. They didn't know how to solve their problems and get rid of it once and for all.

"Pl-Please," the captive stammered, his voice shaking like a loose window in a storm. "I-I swear, I already t-told him e-e-verything I know. I-I can't help you any further."

I ignored him, moving to the center of the room where my Pain Vault-like I liked to call it-rested on the table. It was exactly as I'd requested-pristine, complete, and ready.

Dubrov Stanislav. Aged fourty-nine with properties in the top region of the country.

This man had a lot of women swooning over him. I wondered what they'd think if they saw him now-squirming, trembling and pleading before his fellow man.

Maybe it was my fault. I shouldn't have revealed my identity to him when he was captured and brought over. I wondered why I don't learn, considering this was always people's reactions whenever they discovered I was The Torturer.

I picked up a scalpel from the box, giving it a scrutinizing stare under the dim light. Turning and walking to him, I crouched, leveling my gaze with him.

"You know, I really don't get it, Dubrov," I began, my tone calm and conversational as I reached for his shirt, slowly undoing the buttons one by one

Tell me why the hell Eric was interrogating this man with his clothes on.

"I understand that it's hard for most men to resist beautiful women. But is it really that hard to just look away? To act like you didn't see her?" My voice and hands in black gloves were gentle, a contrast to how much Dubrov trembled beneath my touch.

He was clearly clueless on what I was rambling about and focused more on his buttons being removed.

"I get that she's beautiful, and perfect. They've probably never seen anyone like her before. I also couldn't believe it when I first saw her. But why can't they take a fucking hint and just leave her alone?"

I ripped off the last button instead, the small rage running up my veins.

Dubrov shuddered. I could practically see his bare chest rising and falling heavily like it was on a race.

I stood up, going briefly to the table to grab my mini box of purple needles. When I turned back, I slipped my phone from my pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and held up the picture for him to see.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" My voice was still calm. "Tell me, have you seen anyone as stunning as she is?"

His panic doubled, sweat streaming down his temples. "I-I promise you, we-we didn't touch her. We didn't hurt her. I-I've never even seen her before."

A low chuckle rumbled from my chest as I lowered the phone, momentarily glancing at the floor. "Dear Dubrov, if you had touched her, you wouldn't be here. Neither would your two Mistresses in Norway, or your six kids scattered in Sweden and Germany be alive. Not even your aunt who's on life support in Philadelphia. I'd have murdered every one of you, giving you deaths unimaginable."

His eyes widened, more from the fact that I knew all these details about him.

Well, once you were on my watch list, I could gather as much information as I wanted. It was as easy as snapping a twig. Well...sometimes.

I tapped the screen again. "I asked you a question."

He swallowed hard again, his eyes more focused on the picture now. "She's... She's gorgeous."

A cold smile touched my lips, although it only lasted for a second.

"Of course," I murmured, tucking the phone back into my pocket. "She's damn pretty, that is why everyone wants her."

I crouched before him again, the rage simmering within me clawing its way to the surface.

As I reached for his trembling left hand, I could feel his pulse hammering against my grip. I selected a needle from the box and inserted it deep into his index finger.

A gut-wrenching cry filed the space immediately. Finally, some noise.

"Want to know why the needles are painted purple?" My tone remained calm, dissonantly soothing as I slowly pushed the needle deeper into his skin. Blood trickled from the puncture, crimson against pale flesh.

I won't even be surprised if he didn't hear my question above his cry and torment.

"It's her favorite color," I explained, as if discussing a trivial fact. "I don't know why she likes it. I mean, green was meant for her. Did you see her eyes?" I tsked.

I picked another needle, lifting his second finger.

"No! No, plea-" He didn't get the rest of the words out before I pushed the needle into the middle finger.

Another painful cry.

"I bet you'll be more amused when you listen to her choice of song," I continued, my voice unhurried while staring down at the finger like it was a mere tool I was working on.

Done pushing over half of the needle into the finger, I retrieved my phone from my back pocket, tapped the screen several times and held it up to him as Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Ray started playing.

"Who the hell fancies this kind of music?" I asked with a small frown, staring at the screen. "For two weeks, this has been her favorite. Sometimes, she sheds a damn tear while singing along. At first-" I shoved the phone back into my pocket. "-I almost lost my mind thinking the song caused her pain. Then I discovered the tears were because she fucking enjoyed it. How does anyone fancy such songs?"

I didn't know whether to kill the song or learn to love it. Just like her.

Dubrov's wide-eyed stare screamed of disbelief, as though he were trying to decide if I was deranged or just cruel.