I can offer my life as a bait to make those shits come out. I am not scared. Not even terrified. I waited all these years just to meet all of them again.

And right now I am deadly serious to prove them they were so wrong to break us that night!

They had the wrong family.

They spilled the wrong blood.

They killed a supposed to be untouchable woman!

And I am gonna make them pay for it.

They had to learn my name.

Aesha Roxinne Dresteca Flinn.

Leaving my motorcycle badly parked in front of the mansion, my steps are fast to have a serious talk with that man. Some maids and security agents are agitated to extend their arms to call me but I am too occupied to counter 'why' on their silent and rattled disapproval. Familiar mafia associates guarding and patrolling the whole vicinity were killing me with their eyes but then they fully ignored the whole of my existence as soon as I successfully entered the door without further act of objection from the people inside.

I entered the house full of blood, staining my face, body and clothes—and here he is peacefully eating his lunch, with no marks of dirt on his perfectly ironed white long sleeves. His expensive perfume fighting off the smell creeping all over me.

"I need your mafia," I abruptly negotiated, disregarding the thoughts passing my mind.

As soon as they noticed me paving my way toward his seat, in sync— Matthias, Gregor, and Pita ended their meals though it looks like they have just started. And stood up from their respective chairs to walk out of the dining room. Pita strictly followed my entrance with her famous side-eye while the other two remained straight-faced as they exit.

Mr. Flinn lifted his head to look at me as if he just noticed me now. He shortly inspected me with his eyes. I watched him bite his food slower, stressing a more pronounced chisel of his jaw.

"Have a seat," he offered, eyeing me one more time. Then continued to slice the meat on the plate as if he didn't hear the urgentness of my voice. And didn't see me in a complete flap.

The chair made a sound when I immediately sat near him to make him see my point. "I saw some of them. They are watching me. There are 40 of them. I killed those men just today but we needed a plan to get back at them! All of those left!"

A plan is already building in my mind. I am sure I can damage them, but I am also sure I cannot destroy that organization myself. No matter what confidence I have, I am not a fool to know the possibility of me dying. I know what I saw that night, they weren't just an organization. Even before, we already have tight security in the house, so them being able to execute that stir says something.  And I do not want to die yet without getting the justice my mom deserves. With his help, there is a big chance we will win. With the mafia, we will be more powerful to get back at them—

"You should not dwell on the past too much," he stated, after minutes of silence.

I watched him as he bite the food in front of him. Taking it all easy. Now consistent to his normal pace of eating.

My breathing hitched. I slowly closed my eyes to control myself from exploding.

Why shouldn't I dwell on my mom's death?

Why should I not make a move when it is very obvious that the enemy is just out there again?!

"D-dad, you know that's not the case," I refused and got nearer him again to make him feel that I have a plan. That it isn't one of those careless acts. That I've thought it through. And that I am swallowing my pride to get this all done. That this is the perfect plan to place everything in the right spot.

I caught him react at the first word, but it was swift... as if it never really happened. His eyes immediately returned back to its usual lethal, now I am questioning if pain and longing were what I saw in his eyes. And if in the first place all of that emerged in his eyes, because I couldn't find any of it anymore.

"Finally, we could do revenge. This is the time!"

"Just listen to me. I don't need your whole mafia. I am just asking for a little backup.This is gonna end it."

He remained dead silent.

"Don't you feel revolt of hearing them breathing freely even if they don't deserve it? I do too!"

Again, he is too occupied of eating.

"And I don't care if it'll cost me!"

He dropped the knife and fork firmly at that.

"You are ruining my lunch with your useless blabberings!" his voice thundered an absolute derogatory, warning me of a storm. It echoed all over the house.

"Moreso, filthy bloody appearance!"

What...

I stood up and walk a few steps back.

Here I am finding hope in him and he just said I am ruining his meal? Ruining his meal because of those motherfuckers blood sinking on my skin?

Useless blabberings?

I touched the insides of my mouth with my tongue and stared at him in disbelief. Now, he have done it!

"Hah," my lips are shaking without my permission and that is all I can say as a response.

I should have never expected anything from him. I am a fool to believe he will listen! Why did I even try?! For too long he has been a void case to me, so why do I freaking feel the need to cry?! Come on Aesha... aren't you used to him? To this?

He has been like this all these years! Why am I still horrified, right?! I should have known better!

My chest is heaving up and down, not just because of anger, but also because of a suffocating feeling. This is... not fine. He has been doing me too much wrongs.

Before my eyes give off all my emotions, I turned back at him. With dignity, I held my chin higher.

"You just proved to me again that you deserve nothing from me. Such a pity,"

I waited for him to say something, but just like before it never came.

Not a single word.

I've never wronged you...

It is the only favor I am asking you... after all the years.

The threatening wetness in my eyes is volting me up. I can feel a lump building up in my throat right now so I opened my mouth because I might fail to say what I wanted to say later on.

"Please forget that I've ever..."

I widened my supposed-to-be closing eyes, fiercely stopping myself from breathing for a moment because that would only stifle a cry.

It's pathetic.

I am pathetic.

"... ever been your child,"

I marched fast, too scared that he might sense what's going on with me. That his words still affects me even with the years of surviving alone. Of all the years I pretended to be invincible! The years I spent to train myself to be unbreakable! To be numb! To prevent myself from crying a river!

"Change the cover of the chair," I heard him casually order before I stormed out of the house, with pain and disappointment heaving in my heart.

I made a noise as I slide my way, hitting all that is blocking my sight out of the mansion. I trailed the rest of the road with a heavy heart.

It broke me to see my home wrecked. I was desperately broke the day my mom died. It broke me hard the moment I cried for him while my mother is being covered by the soil. I was broke looking afar as normal people my age reach for their dreams and I can't... because I am parentless... heedless. Simple things were not easy anymore... like a family day... a birthday... a Sunday... They became a burden and an abyss between a child with a family and a child without. I am broke with years of not having him as my home.

And today, I am broke again.

I felt broke as he disproved the only little hope I've left for him.

With my eyes blurring my sight and with my driving, I probably look like I've cast all the darkness outside to spread on this cold night.

She is his wife. And he watched how they unevenly destroy her that night! How she bleed, being violated, and cried! Why is he not agreeing with me?! Why is he not even seeing what I am asking from him?! Why can't he try to understand where I am coming from?

Why won't he hear me...

My motorcycle brought me to a familiar isolated dark street. I continued driving until I reached a wooden bungalow house. I climb up the gate and opened the steel door for entering vehicles, never minding if the owner is already alerted by hearing the noises I've done at his gate and that he'll shoot me for it. I climbed up my bike again and parked it just beside the big black monster car.

Pretentious and futile, I wiped the tears in my cheeks that my emotions allowed to. I controlled my breathing and practiced to radiate my usual demeanor.

A cold, brutal, and difficult woman who didn't care about anything at all. I am heartless. I am an unshaken alpha woman.

I am who they think I am.

I entered the house without permission as soon as I successfully orchestrated how I should look like.

I am welcomed by a large man with his usual cargo pants and white shirt, and an open television, but he is busy fiddling with a phone in his hand. Frowning and grim as he focuses on the screen.

He sighed heavily before withdrawing from what seemed to be a stressed slouch. And when his eyes found me, I intensely got unnerved... and rattled.

I don't know if it is his knowing eyes seeing through me or all the things I've experienced today, but the moment his eyes laid on me, my tears were brought back to life and so I ran to him, not caring about him getting stained by me. Not caring about the fake mask being removed, when I showed him all I am feeling right now. Solely caring about the persistent unbearable twists inside my chest.

He is German. He won't judge me. He won't harm me. He wouldn't get me hurt.

Clumsily, I threw myself at him. I felt the careful placement of large arms on my back to assist me and stop me from falling frailly on the couch.

"I called him dad!" I shouted and crumpled his shirt.

He stayed silent.

And remained silent for a long time.

Letting me feel all the heaviness I am fed up with right now.

Catching all the tears I'm shedding.

"Finally, I called him dad again..." I let a sad smile and repeatedly punched his chest to stop mine from hurting.

But it only worsened. Tears renewed in my eyes more.

"I called him dad," I whispered now to myself, making me understand.

But I couldn't understand.

Weak, I curled in his arms as he softly taps my back to sleep, with tears wet on my cheeks and blood painted on my face. And above all, with my heart ripped into pieces, by someone who should stop anyone from making me cry. I really lost him.