Act I, Chapter Two

"Sweet girl, if I told you everything, life would lose all mystery."- K. Webster, Alpha & Omega

. . .

When I first saw Mom she was barely conscious. Her breathing was ragged and there was a gash on her forehead the size of my middle finger. It was stitched up and bandaged right in front of my eyes, Jimin holding her head in his lap as he dressed the wound.

Nothing made sense. One minute Jimin warmed my hands to keep me warm, kissing my cheek and comforting me. Next, a knife to my back.

I was led to a bungalow far East from Helloway Street. It was a place where the poor lived in richness due to the illegal activities they did to get the money needed to survive. A crescent of homes spread from each other, tall grass, and barred windows.

Jimin took me to one house which was bigger than the neighbouring ones. It was a house with many hallways, many stairs. A clean and crisp interior design job on the ground level, the home had a basement as an underground separated by an elevator. The elevator seemed misplaced in comparison to the rest of the home. It was duller and greyer than the living room space at my house.

My house was that way because my Dad was gone, what was Jimin's excuse? Did he live here alone? My thoughts were loud until he came with many golden plated mirrors and racks of clothing. Along with it, came a queen-sized bed with my Mom laying in sweat.

Tears, screams. I tried to hit past Jimin and escape. I yelled at him to explain what was happening. At other points I rushed to my Mom's side, moving her wet hair from her eyes as they stared at me. Drugged and falling in and out of consciousness. The various answers circling through my head were louder than Jimin's silence. I threw up next to the bed.

Now, as I watched him stretch by the threshold. My eyes visited the line of his underwear which peaked close to his knife. He didn't answer any of my questions, whether I yelled or not. I decided to not speak, hand petting my Mom's hair and waiting for her soft whispers to tell me instead.

When she did come the third time, I said, "Mom, Mom, can you hear me? What have they done to you?" Bad thoughts hushed when remembering how gentle Jimin was when addressing my Mother's injury.

Could he have hurt her? Who else lived here? Maybe we can make a run for it, Mom is pretty tiny, I'll hold her. Strategies, plans, ideas to save the day pulsed within me. I remembered my phone being snatched from Jimin as he held a knife to my back, his fingers dug into my back pockets, stealing my safety net to silence me more.

"Jimin?"

His eyes were hollow, away and distanced. The smiles and softness I experienced before, gone. Was it all an act? Well, I guess some things don't change with Jimin.

I moved slowly towards him, itching at my eyes to release tears. An attempt to soften him. My heart thumped in my chest, louder than my sneakers that edged near. He didn't move, almost expecting me to come closer. I softened, cried, and apologized for being loud earlier. The words that flowed by me next were of fake sincerity. I hugged him, awkward at first only to harden the press of my cheek into his shoulder. My hands were at his back, clinging to him in dire need for pity and remorse.

From the way his hands hesitated on my back, I formulated my next move.

Spain, 2004, Dad took Mom and I out on vacation. On the plane ride, he told me about thieves who stole wallets from pockets. They would assert attention to one part of the person's body, only to slip their fingers into the pocket of the victim and take the wallet. Since the victim would be more focused on the initial contact spot, they wouldn't notice the thief walk away with their money and cards. Pickpocket rates were high in certain parts of Spain. I remembered being 13-years-old and Googling if Dad was right.

He always seemed to be, because although not a wallet, I had Jimin's knife in my hands while he fished for water.

Before I shook from fear, but now, anger fueled my decision. Determined to maneuver myself and my Mom out of potential harm, I linked her legs into my arms while cupping her head into the other. She was heavy to carry at first, but the adrenaline which coursed in my form shot a lunge forward.

I made it out of the room and into the narrow hallway first, Mom's head bobbing by my elbow as her eyes peered open. Caught by the blade that was secured in my hands, I made sure to keep it far from the injured woman's feet which dangled in my embrace.

She called my name, her fingers cupping my cheeks. We were by the elevator. Stairs nowhere in sight, knowing the four-walled cell would not be the best route of exit. Is that why he had an elevator? To slow down victims trying to escape?

"Sweetie, listen. Put me-" My Mom's voice slurred. "Put me down, back on...on the bed."

"What? Mom, no. I'm getting us both out of here."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

Shivers crawled up my neck at the sound of his voice. Unable to locate a separate path to run with Mother in my arms, I let her lean by the wall closest to the elevator. She sank to the ground, mumbling for me to "stop" or to "put me back" then she called for Jimin's name kindly and the confusion in me sky-rocketed.

"I thought you went up for water?" My hand was shaking as I thrusted the knife out for protection.

Jimin barely glanced at the blade, pointing at a glass of water in his hand as he walked forward, kneeled and helped get the liquid into Mom's mouth. I shook, weapon following his every move as he whispered at her.

My hold loosened when I witnessed her fingers cup the man's face the same way she had me. "Explain to her son." Her voice trailed off to knock out once more.

Jimin held her head, pulling my Mother into his arms effortlessly. His gentle movements nodded at me to follow him. "Let's get her back in bed. I'll take you upstairs after and tell you what's going on...even though I've been told to wait."

Frozen by the elevator, as an extension to my shaking arm the blade started to shiver too.

"Oh." I could hear his annoyance as he spoke. "Give my knife back. Nice try, Ein."

. . .

Jimin didn't like me. I could sense it from the contrast of how he treated my Mom in comparison to me. His eyes never met mine, he barely talked to me, nor did he care to go into detail about why I was here. Majority of it was surface level explaining while I sat on the couch under a blanket. It was brightly lit upstairs, colourful and warm. Nothing about Jimin, his injured neck, black turtleneck, and constant deadpans expressed 'warmth'.

Here's what he told me:

My Dad's death affected an entire section of Helloway Street. The Creds (the East's gang) and The Deities (the West's gang), their verbal 'Truce' of 12 years broken because of the spark my Father left. They don't mourn his loss, they don't feel sad for the man who put many of them in prison. Both sides are wrapped up into a bad play of what happened the night he died. There are tensions of a War, East versus West.

That's all he told me.

"What does my Dad's suicide have anything to do with two gangs starting to fight again?"

"Fighting. How cute. These gangs are old. They range back to 30 years ago, maybe more. It won't be a fight between a few people, this will tear up an entire half of the City. I know an Ein like you doesn't care for this side, but we matter to. The people living here need to be looked after."

I stared at him stiff in his chair across the coffee table.

"I never want anyone dead. I just don't get how my Dad is involved? I thought both gangs hated him? Why can't you all bond over his death instead of surfacing some stupid War?" Tears again. I swallowed, forcing the feeling down. No more crying in front of him.

"Everything changed the night he died. 'Truce' was threatened, hence, a potential end." Jimin's jaw clamped, the muscles twitching as he spoke. "To explain the severity in one sentence, there's a reason why 12 years ago both sides called a 'Truce' contract. You're a smart Ein, you can figure out why."

"What happened the night of his death to cause all this?" No matter what brave face I put for Jimin, to push back on his hold he had on me, I knew I wasn't ready to hear about my Dad's last day. Not yet.

"Telling you that wouldn't do any good." His hand worked through his hair, stress clear on his face. "Plus, I'm not sure what I can or cannot say to you."

A question which bubbled inside me blurted. It was quiet, but loud to both our worlds. "How'd you end up like this?"

Tense. Jimin's fingers played with his rings, the tattoos on his knuckles calling out for them. I wondered if it was an initiation process or if he wished to get the marking on his own. As my mind reiterated the name "Creds" I sunk into the couch, forgetting I still wore his jacket.

"Some of us aren't as privileged as you Ein. We don't get our future handed to us on a platter. Let's just say you were lucky to lose your Father now. It's worse when you're a kid figuring the world out."

I nodded. I got everything I needed to know. He was having a hard time talking to me, and I wondered why he didn't stop. It was easy for him to be silent before, in the presence of Mom. If he wanted to he could be again.

What we both waited for was behind the bungalow's front door. More people? His gang members? Why can't he tell me everything until they're here? What am I to know and not know?

"If this War consists of two sides, why am I here? What happened to my Mom? Why is she injured?"

He sighed. "You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"What do you expect? She has a gash on her head and is drugged up! You brought me here with a knife at my back, threatening me to scare me! Excuse me for having a lot to ask." Eyes shot red when staring at Jimin in anger or anguish.

He hunched. It couldn't have been because of my emotions, oh no. It was definitely because of the mention of my Mother. He hadn't been soft with me until the very comforting façade he held on the dandelion field.

"Your Mother got attacked a week after your Dad's funeral. My section and I saved her, we saw the attack coming but his death gave them the push they needed. Your Dad put The Deities leader Travis into prison last year, he plotted a heist and got caught with loose allies for the mission who reported him. Underground police work, defense-lawyer who had shit record in comparison to your Dad- boom, instant win. It's annoying how good he was at his job.
Travis isn't here physically but has been in contact with the new leader, his brother Noel. In charge of the attack on your Mom, it was obvious to us Noel would try again with you. Which is why my section's leader thought it would be safest to keep your Mom under his eye, and well you under mine."

I felt the need to throw up the dinner Jimin had warmed up for me earlier. Sushi and noodles almost made it on the floor by the coffee table. Madness crept, itching my bones and making me wiggle in discomfort. "I felt like someone's been watching me...was that..."

Noel. I memorized his name. Not the bugs or birds in the dandelion field who watched Jimin sit me down and soothe me. Noel. I wonder where he sat lurking. I'm gonna be sick.

"So this, wiping my tears, comforting me, rubbing my back! Kissing my cheek? Having me 'under your eye'?"

Jimin nodded. His brows furrowed, unable to comprehend my loud voice and trembles.

"I've claimed you on our turf. The Truce hasn't officially gone to shit yet, and if a member of either side has a person they give their jacket to as a public symbol, they'll have to believe it. Lovers are off limits, no questions...for now anyway."

"Claimed me?" My eyes were burning into his.

"Don't get too flattered. My leader's decision. We talked with your Mom and she wanted me to do it, none else. I had no choice. I have people I'm meant to protect too and if it means pretending to be your boy-toy for a while, then so be it." Jimin aimed to help me smile or laugh at me. Whichever, I didn't care for it. Anger fueled inside me.

"I doubt they believe you."

"They definitely don't." Jimin rolled his shoulders in place. "They know we're bluffing, but the more we act as if we're not, it'll give them a distraction to get a lead on their sections. We'll have the upperhand the longer we keep them distracted."

"My Mom and I aren't a piece to your game." My body stood, blanket thrown to the side. "We don't need you for protection, there are legitimate ways in getting that. I'll go to the police. The department knows of my Dad, I'm sure they'll guard our home so whatever the Creds need can fuck off."

Jimin watched as I marched towards the front door. Coming in, held hostage, now, I was free to move however I liked. He thought I wouldn't leave which irked me more. My curiosity and worry for my Mother made me want to stay. To want to learn the whole story. To meet this leader who had such a hold on Jimin's words.

"The police won't help you."

"And why is that?"

"They didn't help your Dad." With one phrase. One. The pain I held inside, trying to hide came out in a scream. I grabbed a pillow, threw it pathetically at Jimin who sat calm.

The man told me everything and nothing. My teeth gritted.

Then, I got out the door and aimlessly ran with tears blurring my vision, to cross a line where none claimed humans. Stumbling into The Deities turf where in surprise to me but not to them, some waited for me.

. . .

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Eat right and drink loads of water lovelies! 💕