The Genetic Code

Chapter 11

If you asked me what I expected to be doing on a Tuesday night, I'd say watching TV, listening to music, texting my ally, heck, possibly even doing homework for the first time in four years.

None of the things on that non-exhaustive list include what I am doing right now: sprawled on the carpet of my male familial predecessor's office on my hands and knees, panting and shaking in suppressed fury.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. Well I have to say, the two-year distance between his fists and my face definitely made him want to establish a strong connection the next time they met. Looks like he's also been dying to introduce his foot to my stomach — it was a very impactful greeting.

"Get up," he slurs. "Get up!"

I slowly stagger onto my two numb feet, facing my wretched abuser with solemn death in my eyes, head tilted downwards.

"You're looking for someone, huh? Sara Crawford? Sarah damn Crawford?" His voice booms almost as loud as the sound of the glass as it crashes to the floor and shatters in a mangled sardonic symphony. I instinctively curl my shoulders inward and shrink into myself.

Right, how could I have been so idiotic as to break my number one sacred rule?

Don't trust anyone. Ever. Because it has been proven that 99.9% of the time, the person you choose to put your faith in will take this foolish faith and pierce you right in the back.

Of course my private investigator had turned around and tattled on me to my male familial predecessor. After all, the man was his PI before he was mine. It shouldn't have been a question at all where his loyalties would lie, if 'loyalty' is something that even exists in this god-damn dreadful world.

"You're looking for your sister?" He leers. "How cute. Still pining after a whole, perfect family that's long gone. What a sentimental bastard you are."

He reaches forward and grabs me by the collar, pulling my face in close to his. "You're pathetic." His breath reeks of scotch.

"I know," I mutter bitterly with a sneer. I raise my head and look into his empty brown eyes, glassed over by the alcohol. "Like father like son, right? Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."

The next punch knocks the wind right out of my body and sends me tumbling towards the floor again. I grunt loudly and groan on the ground, hanging my throbbing head. I swear I heard a crack when his fist connected with my jaw.

"No. You get it from your mother."

Somehow that last hit hurt more than all the other throws. I can handle the bruises and potentially dislocated jaw – those are easily fixed, but the internal wounds are the ones that run so deep I can't find the bottom of them. He'd just found a dulled old scar and cut it right open again.

I exhale a shaky breath, and stare down at the shards of broken glass on the carpet.

What once stood as a shiny, expensive antique glassware now lay as smashed fragments strewn across the ground, worth nothing anymore.

What a fall from grace.

***

Today I actually accept Hershel's aid as he opens the door for me, helps me into the limo and slams the door shut behind me.

I hold onto my sore stomach and grunt as I crash into the limo seats, slamming my head into the headrest with a thud. I immediately reach into my pocket for my phone and dial my soon-to-be ex-PI.

"H-H-Hello, M-Mr C-Crawford." His weak, fearful voice tells it all.

"So... you tattled on me."

"Mr Crawford—" I can feel the explanation coming, and I really couldn't give any less craps about what excuses he has to give to save his sorry traitorous ass, so I cut him off curtly:

"What's done is done. I'll let you off the hook this time." I pause momentarily, hearing his sigh of relief on the line. My grip on the phone tightens, and my voice drops low, "But if my father has asked you to tail me, update him about any of my whereabouts or even find out what I had for lunch, don't think about trying. Trust me, you'll regret it."

I shut off the phone and throw it onto the seat beside me, sighing heavily.

Hershel winds down the divider between us. "Are you alright, sir?" His brown eyes shine with concern in the rearview mirror.

"I'll live. I always do, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry, sir, I was given orders to pick you from your house and send you to the estate. I wasn't informed what for..." I can tell he feels guilty by the way his bald head twitches as he speaks.

"It's fine, Hershel, it's not your fault. Rather than beat yourself up over it, you can repay me by giving up your Friday evening."

"Is there somewhere you need to be, sir?

"It's a bit of a drive, but I have an inkling that it'll be worth it. You can pick me up at five with my bags."

"Bags, sir?"

"I'm gonna be gone for a while... I have someone I want to find."

***

I skip school the next day to let my bruises heal, and send a quick text to my ally telling her I won't be coming.

The last place I want to be is school, but right now all I want to do is see her. I want to hold her, stroke her silky hair, take in her sweet scent, and drown in her presence. When she's around me I don't think of anything else, and that's what I need now.

So even though I'm still aching all over and covered in purple bruises, I apply a few generous layers of cover-up cream and make my way to school on Thursday.

Little did I realize what we would be doing for gym class today. They likely mentioned it last lesson but I was probably too busy gazing at my ally to catch it. Now I wish I did, because if I had known I wouldn't have come today.

I look at the large rectangular swimming pool glistening tauntingly before me, and grimace.

Not only does being in this indoor complex remind me of a certain drunkard dolphin who I'd rather not think about for the sake of my own sanity, the entire pool is basically a danger zone because my cover-up cream would get washed away by the water and reveal my battered face. Just removing my shirt would already put my bruised torso on full display.

I speak to the gym teacher for a while and he agrees to let me sit out of the lesson. Being the son of the school's largest benefactor can be useful, in a pretty damn warped way, such as being able to escape certain sticky situations caused by the hands of the man himself.

With that crisis averted, I scan the room for my ally. I haven't seen her all day.

Then I spot her, standing by the edge of the pool. She's still in her gym clothes, and hasn't changed into her swimming gear yet. That pleases me, since I'm not looking forward to when she's only wearing that tiny swimsuit that doesn't leave much to imagination, especially if I'm not going to be in the pool to drown any of the slobbering idiots who even dare to look at her body for more than two seconds.

She doesn't think that guys notice her, but I've seen the way they gawk at her. She may be small, but has the body proportions of a perfectly-crafted living doll, though I don't think she even realizes it herself. The past two years away really did her well. I definitely thought she was beautiful before, but she returned absolutely stunning, at least to me. Honestly she could look like an actual grinch and I'd still think she's the most gorgeous girl I've ever laid my eyes on. It just baffles me that she doesn't know how beautiful she actually is. She's not very aware of herself...

Or of her surroundings either.

I release a curse and begin running to the other side of the pool.

I get there just as Kera pushes her, and lunge towards her, pulling her as she teeters over the edge.

She manages to catch her balance and stumbles away from the pool to safety, while I, on the hand, slip in the process, and tumble into the water.