I sit in my car, staring at the alleyway from this morning and taking slow even breaths. Steadying my nerves and thinking through my purpose here. My plan. My head is swimming, yet I am wholly composed compared to earlier. Dressed in a killer black fitted pantsuit, spike heels, styled hair hanging perfectly around my shoulders, and I have my war face on. Everything tucked back in behind my mask and ready to rumble. Bringing out the real Vice President Park and what she’s famed for.
It’s like earlier didn’t happen at all, and all my cuts and scrapes are concealed by what I’m wearing, not even on a pain scale anymore; their effect on me is minimal.
My mind is a jumble of thoughts, but my mother-in-law’s words are ringing the loudest and clearest inside my head. I feel like I’m hanging on to them by a thread in a bid to hold it all together.
‘Fix this by any means.’
She knows it’s what I’m good at.
