Shadows & Strings

"Where are you actually taking us?" Kenji asks for the thousandth time. "Your dumping site?"

Vanko flicks him an irksome smirk. "You were stupid enough to get in the car."

"This isn't funny," I say as steadily as I can. "I have a lot of work I have to get done, including helping my father. The mayor. So, to amend your previous statement. I have much better things to do. And if anything happens—"

"Jesus," he curses with a stretched groan. "Nothing you don't want to happen is gonna happen."

"I don't even want to be here," I bite back.

He snatches my gaze in the rearview mirror.

"And yet you are," he points out, as if I'm unaware. "I didn't force you."

"You just manipulated her," Kenji counters.

Vanko goes deadly silent. He doesn't say anything for the remainder of the mysterious journey, only thickening the tension. Eventually, we arrive at the expansive parking lot of a diner on the edge of town, basically at the border. The urus slips into a rear parking spot despite the dozens available that are closer to the entrance. The engine quietens, a roar reduced to a rumbling purr, and everything becomes disquietingly still.

"Let me open your door."

Vanko opens the driver's side.

Kenji bursts out of the passenger end, grabbing his bag on the way out. Vanko pauses for a millisecond. The moment he exits, the urus shoots back like it was yanked. Vanko shuts his door as he swivels the car around with one hand on the wheel and so sharply I swoosh to the other side, slamming into the door. Panic surges through me as I whip around to watch Kenji screaming, chasing after the car manically before he's nothing but a shrinking dot in the distance. I flip back around, feeling nothing but blind terror as the urus travels at breakneck speed.

"Are you insane!"

Vanko glances at the rear-view mirror with a psychotic smile.

I scramble for my bag with jittering fingers as I unzip it, digging past books to locate my phone. Once I fish it out, I attempt to dial the emergency number. And before I can hit call, the urus comes to a jarring halt---skidding to a stop. I flash forward, smashing against the sport seat and my phone flies from my grasp. Next thing I know it's in Vanko's hand and he slots it right between his legs so it's resting against his crotch.

"Come get it," he jeers.

I lunge to take it and the car lurches forward with harsh haste that my back hits the backseat once again. He accelerates and slices through the street, overtaking two cars with vehement velocities, then promptly makes a hairpin turn and the urus dashes down a dirt path flanked by forestry. I scan my surroundings, desperate for an opportunity to escape. But the car's speed and Vanko's iron grip on the wheel make it seemingly impossible.

"Vanko, why are you doing this?" Dread twisting countless knots in my stomach, fear scattering sense and rendering reason null. "Kenji is going to call the cops and when he does—"

"You think I'm scared of your daddy?" he says with an unamused scoff. "You think I would've done this if I was scared of cops?"

"What are you doing?"

The path is bulging with bumps, then it widens without warning. The Lamborghini halts by a vacant pier at the edge of the lake, where the earth meets the water, a tapestry of pebbles and soft sand. Vanko pockets my phone and jumps out of the car, and quickly opens the back door. I scurry away from him like a hare hurrying from a wolf. He seizes me and hauls me out with a firm grip. He leads me away from the car, his grip unyielding, and my own self weighed down by insurmountable dread. I can't even scream, barely breathing, terror tightens around my throat to the point that not even air can pass through. Tears like hot blades behind my eyes.

He releases me abruptly, walks away a few paces, then hurls a glance at the heavens.

"I'm sorry," he proclaims. "I'm sorry."

I stare at him, bug-eyed, flabbergasted.

After I'm silent for so long, his eyes arrow at me. His brows crumple and a confounded look pulls at his face, causing even more creases.

"Are seriously crying?"

Dredging up courage, I summon my voice. "You ditched my best-friend. Kidnapped me. All to tell me you're sorry, then mock me because of my natural reaction to an unnatural situation! Yes I'm crying because you're a complete psychopath!"

I turn around, speeding back towards the dirt path. He calls after me, only loaning me more speed. A pair of calloused hands soon grips my waist, and he forces me around. And this time I fight back: clawing, pulling, scratching, writhing, completely unhinged. Vanko tries to wrest me under his control, trying to subdue me into submission, but it makes me even more rigorous to the point I release a skull-rattling screech that runs across the surface of the water.

"Fuck it."

He locks his limbs around me, his ironbound arms restraining me like a straitjacket, rendering me utterly motionless. I try to thrash against him and it's an attempt that is diminished to a woeful wiggle. The scope of his strength is almost terrifying as to how powerless I am and completely at his mercy. Even though a tiny part of me knows he won't harm me physically or he would've done it by now.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

He waits it out. He waits with his arms chained around me and I sap my own strength, sagging like a sail without wind. I droop like a wilted flower, my head hanging, and my breathing heavy.

C (open string)D (first finger on the A string)E (second finger on the A string)G (open string)A (first finger on the D string).... G (open string)E .... (second finger on the D string)C (open string)

He leans painstakingly close, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

"That's a good little pet," he whispers huskily.

I strain the last ounce of my ebbing strength to violently shove out of his grip, stumbling away from him.

"I'm sorry," he starts again, with a condescending chide to his voice, like he's talking to a child.

"What for?" Rage crushes former fear. "Holding me hostage, deserting Kenji or years' worth of physiological trauma you caused, not to mention some old scars you left on my body to remember you by."

Unnaturally calm, he says, "All of the above, I guess. I took out your boy because he was in my way. I needed a chance to get you alone so you could listen to me."

"I hear you," I snap. "So you're going to let me go?"

He taps his temple furiously, anger awakening. "No, you don't. You hear, but you're not listening."

"You can't force me to accept your apology!"

"You don't even believe it's an apology."

"Of course, I don't," I scream back, no longer holding anything back. "You tormented me for years and Kenji suffered because of that. And that is something I will never forgive. Not because I'm a hypocrite or that I'm bitter. It's for one reason alone, and that is because I believe you're incapable of remorse. It's not a question of forgiveness—"

"It has everything to do with it," he says with a flicker of irritation, wetting his lower lip. "I'm incapable of remorse? You're incapable of forgiveness. Why else would I be here if I wasn't seeking redemption? I'm not scared of the consequences of kidnapping the mayor's beloved daughter. I'd rather face the punishment than live with what I did to you. You're right. It eats at me. Slowly. Constantly. I couldn't live on without at least trying to make things right. All the pain I caused you. If I could go back to undo it. I would, but I can't."

Tears leak, a few become a deluge as I stare back at him, unblinking.

"I don't deserve redemption," he says, deflating slightly. "I wanted you to know how immeasurably remorseful I am. And to answer you, I won't ever let you go. Everyday, I will show you how sorry I am. Words can't undo what I did or make up for it, but I can spend the rest of my life trying to atone. Can you allow me that small privilege?"

I roughly mop my face with my hands, looking up to prevent new tears from falling.

"Please," he whispers.

I sneak a glance at him.

"Do you want me to beg?"

I shake my head, and I lift my hands to give a slow, mock applause. "Brava. And I thought I knew how to tug at strings. Stellar performance, academy-award winning, really. You must think so low of me if you think I don't suspect an ulterior motive. I just don't know what it is."

He loosens a jagged breath with a dangerously frustrated smile. He rushes back to me, and I can't retreat fast enough—his shoes devouring the space between us.

"What hidden agenda could I possibly have? There's only one thing I want out of this. And it's only you. I'll do anything to prove that. Anything."

He drops to his knees and outstretches his arms like a devoted servant before their deity. He gazes up to me with eyes like black holes that could pull me in and I could never find my way out of—forever bound to the void. He reaches for my hands, but I yank them to my chest as if burnt by fire. Instead, he grips my hips, eliciting an illicit spark and stilling me completely.

"I beg of you," he whispers roughly, desperately.

I slip out of his grasp. His hands fall to his sides dejectedly.

"I can't help thinking that a bunch of people are going to jump out with cameras."

He rises to his feet, somehow looming even taller than his natural height. "You think I'm that twisted enough to do this for a prank? By now, I'm sure there is a platoon of police cruisers on the hunt for you."

"You said you weren't scared."

"I'm more scared about not being able to make amends. You have no reason to trust a word I say. I wouldn't trust me either. So trust the guilt I have felt for all these years that this isn't a trick or a prank."

I toe the line that marks the point of no return by saying, "You swear it?"

He seals the gap between us, and I balk on impulse.

He takes a hold of my pendant and fists the cross. "On god."

"I've spent most of life hating you," I say, my breaths burdened to heave heavy words. "It took so much from me. You took so much from me." Tears sear their way out even though the last thing I want is for him to see me cry. Again. "I can't just forget and sweep it under the rug."

His fingers unlatch the cross.

"I don't want you to forget. I can't erase the pain from the past, but perhaps the present can help lessen it," he suggests hopefully, uncomfortably awkward. "I'm not good with this—" He makes wordless hand gestures, his silver rings shimmering. "Words... feelings."

"Could've fooled me."

His eyes spark. "So—"

"No. I don't know what you expect that I would miraculously fawn over you for your almost poetic monologue, but."

I cut myself off, glancing down at the cross, ruminating on what it actually means. Love. And love is forgiveness, as I've heard being preached over more times than I can count. To deny him would make me a hypocrite. Even though I would like nothing more than to hijack his car and run him over with it. Numerous times. I know what I have to do, I just didn't want to say it—a procession of harrowing memories plead with me not to say it. To forgive him would be like to excuse all he had done and cheapen not only mine but also Kenji's suffering. Hating him has also had a devastating aftermath that to this day I still endure its effect.

"How about you start by undoing your current mistake and taking me home?"

He snaps a nod. "Done."

"And you will apologize to Kenji."

A muscle pokes through his clamped jaw. "He won't take it."

"You'll still give it. Your damage lasted for years. You can't expect repairs to take a day. And by deserting him and kidnapping me. You're not off to a very good start."

¬¬¬

The door to the squad car opens, and I slip out, giving the officer a courteous smile. A whole police escort by the demand of the mayor. My parents burst out of the house with Kenji in tow. Soon, many limbs engulf me in a suffocating yet soothing embrace. My dad thanks the policeman and he tips his hat before he gets back in the car and rolls away.

"We were so worried," mama wails with puffy eyes and a handkerchief clenched in her hand. "What happened, baby?"

My eyes dart to a harried Kenji. I assumed he would've told them everything. My dad pulls me away to do a full body scan to check for any injuries. The drama.

"Kenji said you were meeting up with a boy to help tutor him. And when he called you, he heard screaming then the phone disconnected and he couldn't reach you again. We all couldn't."

My phone. Vanko still has my phone.

I try to affect calm and I shrug slowly, acting as perplexed as they are.

"Yes, I was due to help a classmate." I pause to tailor a lie, stringing words together. "The scream Kenji heard was because we nearly got into an accident on our way to the library."

"We checked the library," mama says, lowering the handkerchief from her nose, suspicion simmering in her eyes. "You weren't there at any interval. We checked."

"I never said we went in," I rebutted quickly. "I said we were on our way there. He was clearly lethargic and low on energy, so I suggested we make the detour to a restaurant. Grab a bite before we delved into Shakespearean literature. We ended up studying there—is this interrogation over now?"

My dad eyes me down with an indecipherable look before he issues his verdict.

"I'm just glad you're safe."

I flesh out a compelling smile. "You didn't have to call the whole of BPD, you know."

"Of course I did." He drapes an arm over my shoulders and steers me back to the house. "I don't know what would become of me if I had lost my greatest treasure."

"Kenji, I'll tell your mom we found her. Since it's late, you want to stay for dinner? I'm making your favorite."

"Well then, I have to stay, mama Smith," he says with a carefree laugh, so much so I even believe it.

When we get inside, the divergence begins. My father goes to his private office and mama traipses back to the kitchen. And I go for my room upstairs with a steaming young bull stomping up the steps behind me. The moment my bedroom door closes, chivalry departs my window faster than you can say liar.

"What the hell happened?"

"Nothing, okay—it's fine."

"Fine?" he repeats in a fevered rush, anger setting every word afire. "You think being kidnaped by your ex abuser is fine? What multiverse did I enter because none of this is sane, fine or okay, so stop using those words. This is sick—he's sick and you're—"

"I am what?" I interject with hushed hostility. "Once again, you make me the perpetrator of a crime that was done to me. And what about you? This was your golden chance to tell my parents everything."

"No," he says, livid, lifting a finger to my face. "I made a promise that I would never expose you like that. Even though both of our parents had the right to know. I kept quiet for you and I paid the price for us both."

There it is. Resentment. Brazen and unfettered.

"That's how you feel?" A sob coiling around my throat, my breaths suddenly fast and unsteady. "You paid the price for my mistake/"

Kenji washes his face with his hands so hard, reddish splotches dust the skin beneath his almond-shaped eyes.

"My anger is not towards you. It's for you," he corrects, taking measured breaths. "I despise Vanko—what he is, what he did and how he did it. Remorselessly. Never forget."

"How could I?" I snap back.

Kenji looks away from me, as if he knows what he will say next will wound me.

"I'm doing this for you because I love you. It is for your own good, since you can't seem to do it for yourself," he says bluntly. "If I catch Vanko even looking at you tomorrow or any other day. I will go to the mayor's office and tell him every excruciating detail. Your dad will do what is necessary to make sure he stays away from you. Permanently."

A lump lodges itself in my throat. I blink fast, nodding many times.

"Okay," I squeak, too shocked to say anything else.

¬¬¬

That night, sleep eludes me.

I'm honestly too scared to close my eyes, fearing what terrors await me when I do. Today's ordeal was triggering but I think I handled it much better than I envisaged. Before his return, I thought if I ever saw him again; the mere sight of him would dismantle me for all time. And I would never recover. Yet fate has damned me once more. And I can't understand what misdeed I could've down to receive such retribution twice over.

Some would call it a trial. I call it a curse.

I strip the cover off me, and I straighten, sliding my feet into my slippers. I exit my room and I head downstairs for the kitchen. Once I'm on the ground floor, I'm not surprised to see a slant of golden light emanating from beneath the door of my dad's office.

I enter without knocking. He looks up, peering over at me from his reading glasses.

"Can't sleep? The guilt getting to you?"

My heart plummets a thousand feet. "Guilt about what?"

He leans back into his seat and removes his spectacles to reveal his intense and ponderous stare. "Without fail, you always communicate a last-minute plan change. You never mentioned a classmate that needed tutoring. And even if you decided to spontaneously share your wares of wisdom. You would've told me or your mother, immediately. We both know it. But we hoped you would feel... urged to tell one of us on your own." He gestures to me implicitly. "Good things come to those who wait."

A humored breath blasts through my nostrils.

I nod thoughtfully. I come over to drape myself over the spare armchair, letting my bare legs dangle over the furnished wooden arm whilst my back rests against the other.

"I didn't say anything before because of this classmate," I say, the lies forming so seamlessly. "I have a bit of bad track record with him. He doesn't like me and I don't like him. Petty school squabble, nothing worth mentioning because he's not worth the mention."

My father tilts closer and steeples his fingers, so attentive, like a paid therapist.

"Long story short, he needed my help because he was tanking in lit. So I decide to help him, very last minute. I know, and I should've called. That was my mistake."

My dad nods solemnly. "You helped this boy, despite your existing animosity. I must say. I am proud of you for helping, and being the better person. I'm sure it must've inspired him to follow suit."

"But it wasn't easy," I blurt, seeking counsel. Direction. "I really loathe him. And he had... said some hurtful stuff in an attempt to mock me and get under my skin. Helping him... felt wrong."

His eyes soften into a dewy, tender look. "Forgiveness is unlocking the door to set someone free, only to discover that you were the prisoner. We cannot say we love when we don't forgive."

I avert my gaze. "What if what they did is unforgiveable?"

"Having love means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in us," he says with a smile filling with warmth. "Corrie Boom once said that forgiveness is the key that unlocks the door of resentment and the handcuffs of hatred. It is the power that breaks the chains of bitterness."

Those words marinate in my mind. Words, pretty words.

"I know, forgiveness is a beautiful concept until we have to practice it," he says, as if he had read my thoughts. "It is not a single act, but a constant attitude. And the highest form of self-love that will reward you with untold peace."

I sniff, nodding to acknowledge the depth of his counsel.

"I didn't realize this classmate has hurt you that much? You've never spoken about him."

"Like I said... not worth mentioning."