Chapter 33

Temi POV

Empty. That's exactly how I feel.

And confused. I feel extremely disoriented and confused. Everything has gone wrong so fast that I can't wrap my head around it. I can't wrap my head around how I fucked everything up.

I'm so hollow. Isa had filled me up these past few months. Without me knowing it, she had brought so much to me, taught me so much. She made my days feel like they mattered. Gave me something to look forward to. Even before we got along, at least she was a constant. Someone that was always there.

But that's over and she's gone. I'm alone. It's just like Grace all over again.

I sit down on the couch. It smells just like Isa from the many nights that she spent sleeping here. She was sleeping here just this morning. *We were sleeping here just this morning.

I bury my face in my palms. There are a million thoughts going through my mind, yet none of them seem to make sense. None of them seem able to liberate me from the intense dismay that I am feeling.

My throat is closing up, and it's extremely hard to swallow. It's extremely quiet in my apartment, it's too quiet.

I feel like I can't cry anymore than I have already. Then the first tear falls, and another, and another. And I'm sobbing on the couch. The tears don't stop. I don't think that they ever will. All I want to do right then is cry. I think all I can ever do for the rest of my life is cry.

It's not fair. Nothing is fair.

My head hurts, and my heart is racing. I feel heavy all over. I'm so so tired and exhausted. With fresh tears still flowing down my face, I fall asleep.

The sound of knocking wakes me up. I'm not sure how long I had been asleep for, but it's dark in my apartment, letting me know it has been at least a few hours.

For a moment, I'm in a state of confusion, not remembering the events of earlier today, then it all comes back to me. I feel heavy but do not have the strength to cry.

The sound of knocking on my apartment door comes again and I instantly realize what had awoken me in the first place. I rise reluctantly from my position on the couch and make my way over to the apartment front door.

I realize it's probably campus security that Isa called, probably here to do a "wellness check" on me. I.e. to make sure I'm still alive, so the university does not have any liability charges on their hands.

I don't bother wiping the dried up tears off my face before opening the front door.

A man is standing there. I assume he is campus security.

"Hi," I say. My voice comes out devoid of emotion and it is hoarse from all the crying I had been doing earlier, "you must be here to take me to my new suicide watch facility." There is sarcasm dripping from every inch of my voice, but I cannot be bothered with politeness.

I pause then, but the man says nothing. He simply nods. I look at him for a few moments. He looks familiar but I can't exactly place where I have seen him before. I also care so little about that at this moment.

I don't care about many things right now. I figure the least I can do is comply.

"Let me go pack up my stuff real quick," I say.

The school will probably place me in the Campus Health Center, where they can monitor me till a new bodyguard takes over from Isa.

I turn around to head back into my apartment. I have not even taken a step when I feel a pinch at the back of my neck.

It's sharp and quick and for a moment I wonder if I imagined it until I am overcome by a sudden heaviness. My vision suddenly seems to blur and everything around me is getting blurrier and blurrier by the second.

From the side of my vision, I see that the man has followed me into my apartment and is now by my side.

"H-hey," I say, struggling to stand upright, "I think something is wrong with me-"

I can't finish my sentence as I am plunged into darkness. The last thing I remember is the man reaching out, catching hold of me, as I can no longer stand on my own two feet.

Right before I lose consciousness, I remember why the man seems familiar to me. I had seen him watching me in the snow earlier today, right before everything went south. I also realize he is the same man that had come up to me at the cafe.

My thoughts stop then as everything goes black.

I feel cold water wash over me and I shoot up immediately.

I am panting heavily, and I want to let out a shout, but my voice catches in my throat once I take in my surroundings.

I am sitting on a bed that is definitely not my own, in a room that is not my own. It's a small room with plain white walls. I am confused as hell, and for a moment I wonder if I am dreaming.

Then I notice the woman in front of me, and my confusion immediately escalates. She is sitting in a wooden chair, with one leg crossed over the other, looking straight at me. She has blonde hair, which she wears in a bun at the top of her head, and bright red lipstick.

There's an empty bucket next to her. No doubt that is where the freezing cold water had come from.

"Hey Temilola, how are you doing?" the woman asks.

"Not the best," I mumble in response, still feeling groggy as hell. My head is pounding slightly, and the room seems to spin around me. "Why did you pour freezing cold water on me?"

"Sorry about that," the woman says, not sounding very sorry at all, but she reaches over and hands me a towel.

I cautiously take the towel from her and begin drying myself off. There's a slight pounding in my head.

The woman hands me a glass of water and I take it from her and drink it all down. My throat is scratchy, no doubt from all the crying I was doing.

For a moment, there's a calm that washes over me. Then suddenly everything seems to hit me, the man that had shown up at my apartment and me suddenly passing out and I am suddenly gripped with panic.

"Hey Temi, just relax. There's nothing to worry about," the woman says, seeing the panic taking over my features. This only causes my fear to intensify and I crawl up on the bed, placing my back flat against the wall.

"Who are you?" I ask, "what do you people want?" I recognize the woman as the one I had seen with the man at the cafe all those days ago. "Why am I here right now?"

I'm trying, despite the circumstances, to remain calm, but it's proving to be extremely difficult. My heart is racing crazily in my chest, and I can't think straight.

Of course, the woman does not reply to my question. She just looks at me with an expression that I cannot read. I squirm uncomfortably as the silence stretches out between us.

"How are you doing, Temi?" The woman suddenly asks, ending the silence between us.

I look at her in confusion, not sure what it is she's asking.

"Ever since your best friend died, you haven't been yourself, have you? I'm sure it must have been pretty difficult for you."

A combination of feelings washes over me at that moment. I am horrified, confused, scared, and angry.

"How do you know about Grace? Who are you? Leave me alone, you know nothing about me!"

Except that is a lie, as this woman-whoever she is - seems to know quite a deal about me.

"But I know about you, Temi. I've known about you for a while." The woman simply says. The manner by which she mumbles the creepiest statement ever with a straight face sends a chill down my spine. I look at her in confusion, with no idea in hell how I am to respond.

"It must suck that your mom hasn't really been here for you during this difficult time, doesn't it?"

My throat instantly closes up and I can't swallow. I don't blink either. I don't want to take my eyes off from the woman in front of me... not even for a second.

The woman has small wrinkles around her eyes that pop up when she's talking. I can tell she's gotten some work done on her face, and is older than she might appear at first glance.

"What do you want?" I ask. My voice sounds far away.

The woman does not respond immediately, but studies me expressionless, like she has been doing for the past few minutes.

I take in my surroundings once again, trying to figure out if this is a place that I know. I'm in a plain white room with plain walls and no windows. There's nothing that suggests my location. More so, I don't know how long I had been out for. No doubt, I was drugged.

"Do you want to see a picture of your dad?"

"What?" My full attention is once again on the woman, and for a second I'm certain that I hallucinated her question.

"I can show you a picture of your dad. It's not fair that you never got to know or see him. Your mom probably doesn't even allow you to talk about him."

The woman reaches into her pocket and produces a picture. She leans forward in her chair, extending her hand out to me.

I hesitate for a few seconds before reaching forward and grabbing hold of the photograph.

I stare at the picture of a strange man for a while, that is supposedly my father. My mind is foggy and I don't know what to believe.

"Here," the woman says, abruptly handing me another picture. This one is of a guy that looks to be around my age. He has a sharp jawline and light brown eyes.

"That's his son, Thomas. They live in London."

I'm silent for a while, not sure what to say or believe.

"Your father had an affair with your mom one summer vacation when he was in the States. She got pregnant, and he left back to his family in London."

"Does he know about me?" I ask. My voice is low.

The woman shrugs. "I don't know."

The silence stretches out between us. How the hell am I meant to respond to any of that? Should I even respond to that? It can be all made up. And even if it's not, so what? What am I going to do about it now?

"It must be hard growing up with a dad that is physically unavailable and a mom that is emotionally unavailable."

I look away then. My head is spinning and there's an ache in my chest. I blink back furiously, trying to keep my tears at bay.

"What do you want?" I ask for the umpteenth time, "what do you want with me? Why am I here?"

"Can someone like your mom really be the governor of an entire state? New York State at that? How can she be there for all those people when she can barely be there for you?" The woman pauses then. I say nothing. My mind is blank.

"I need you to cooperate with us." The woman finally says, and I'm not at all surprised in the slightest. Of course, this all comes down to politics.

"And if I don't?" I ask. I know the answer before it comes.

For the first time, the woman lets an expression seep through her face. It's an expression that I don't like. Not in the slightest. But her voice is sugary sweet, laced in venom when she speaks:

"Oh sweetheart, I strongly suggest you do."