We have come to the end of our COMO Cocoa Island Honeymoon.
Arthur drops Bethany down gently on the bed, her back up but her butt down.“It may have seemed nothing like these few days but I have been waiting so damn long for this moment.” Arthur whispers as he playfully rubs his lips on her, just touching them to one another and moving from side to side with his eyes wide open and staring at Bethany. “You have no idea just how many times I regretted promising to be a gentleman at the start. You drive me so damn crazy.”“I wanted you to stop too, to stop being a gentleman, even felt a bit bad about it at some point.” She whsipers, her voice raspy against his body.He raises his head and smiles before leaning back to her slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. He reached out and gently pulls her to her feet, his hands resting on her hips. He leans in and kisses her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth. Bethany melts into his embrace, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair.Arthur's hands began to wander, exploring the curves of Bethany's bod
It is the day they retur back home, to the reality waiting that they had left behind the week before.Bethany pulls the sheer white curtain aside and stares out at the ocean one last time, the pretty blue will stay completely ingrained into her head for a million years to come… If she lives that long. The beautiful island sprawls before her like a promise of peace they’re about to break by leaving.She sighs, a soft sound swallowed by the sound of waves crashing gently on the shore, maybe not so much the contented sigh as before.Arthur appears behind her, towel slung over one shoulder, suitcase in hand. “You sure you don’t want to fake a tropical illness and stay here forever? We could say the doctors asked you stay and work from here as taking a flight might be fatal for your tropical illness?” He teases.“I already tried faking food poisoning this morning,” she murmurs. “You made me take a ginger shot and pack anyway.”Arthur laughs, stepping beside her. “I’m heartless like that bu
“Thank you Doctor, can you please give us some time with him? I am not sure you’ll be able to enter right now. We are all running on emotions right now.”“Sure sir. We’ll be back in an hour or so.”Arthur stands outside the hospital room just a little longer, with a weight in his chest that no amount of deep breathing can loosen.Two months.That’s all the time Mason has left, eight weeks, possibly even less. And not because of an accident or premediated illness.No… it’s glioblastoma. Silent, vicious, and final. No cures, only… this.Arthur’s jaw clenches and unclenches as he pushes the door open.The room is dim, humming with machines and smelling faintly of antiseptic. Bethany and Martha sit close together now, their silence sitting heavily in the room. Martha’s tears have slowed to soft sniffles, her body slumped like it had aged decades in the span of an hour.Bethany looks just as drained, her eyes red and heavy. Looks like Martha has told her what is going on with Mason, she lo
The day began with yells, cackles of laughter within a small family and small children, all laughing toothily around the large house. Scattered around were pink balloons and a particular glittery plastic tiara that didn’t quite fit on Bethany’s tiny head.She was three years old at the time, full of toothy grins and sticky fingers and loved pancakes with a lot of syrup, and today, today was her birthday.“Mommy,” she said, swinging her legs beneath the kitchen table that was considerably ten times her total weight, “I want McDonald’s burger for my birthday.”Martha, standing by the counter with a juice box in one hand and her purse in the other, gave her daughter a bemused look. “Are you sure? We can make you anything you want. Pancakes? Spaghetti? A cake shaped like a pony? Where did you even hear about that?”Bethany shook her small curls. “You got Mason one, I want my own too today. McDonald’s and the park. I wanna ride the horsies! They are cuteeee.”Beside her, Seven year old Mas
The holding cell stinks terribly of sweat and urnine and not so well taken care of body discharges.Smells disgusting in there.And it is not just the stink of sweat or urine, like the average downtown drunk tank, no. This one also reeks of guilty men dressed up in expensive cologne. Designer jeans and loafers scuffed on concrete, the exact dressings that they had all been arrested in though they do stink now from not having baths for days.Five men, once golden boys in nightclubs and boardrooms, now sit on cracked terrazzo floors under extremely dim bulb lights.Trevor sits with his legs crossed, perfectly calm for someone in such a situation.The others? Not so much, they are relying on him and for someone they are leaning on, he seems a little too calm for their liking.“Trevor, man,” hisses Logan, slick back that is not so slick now, pacing the cell like a caged animal. “You said your dad would never let this happen, you said you’ll never spill our names now look at all of us, sitt
The morning sun filters through the trees in the large, green park that overlooks the pretty lake ahead.It’s warm. Peaceful. A soft breeze rolls across the lake, lifting the petals from scattered white roses and tugging at the corner of the prettily covered altar. Everything looks like it was summoned out of thin air, a lakeside setup, simple chairs, a path of white laid across green grass, and yet it all feels perfectly right.They didn’t plan it. Not really. They did not have the time to do so anyway, because every minute now counts.Every. Single. Minute.But love doesn’t always need a plan. Sometimes, it just needs now and that’s how everything was planned overnight, some people who still haven’t slept yet are in the congregation.By the water’s edge, rows of white wooden chairs are arranged in quiet perfection. A floral arch leans over a makeshift altar, the blooms fresh, delicate, almost too pretty to touch. There are photographers present, it is a memorable one, everyone wants
Detective Reynolds has never hated walking down this damned hallway more than he actually does now, with what he knows his mission it, he does not look forward to the next few minutes since he’ll be walking down the same hall again.The keys jingle in his hand, cold metal biting into his palm as he squeezes it more than he should, causing himself pain. He passes the front desk, the vending machines, the bulletin board with the crooked missing persons flyer... all of it feeling a little more annoying than usual.For the first time in a very long time, he regrets his job and for once wishes that he was in a position of power to refute the corrupt order that he is about to go ahead and act out. He had spoken to Daisy Worth just some minutes ago before he decided to accept his fate and do as ordered unless he wanted to risk his job, and even if he does risk his job for the sake of his integrity, the five bastards will still get released anyway so there is basically no point dragging out t
The courtroom is brightly lit, smells like polished wood and paper and different, different smells of perfumes and cologne.It's still early in the morning, the sun barely slanting through the tall and somewhat dusty windows, but the room is already full, a lot of people seem to be quite interested in the case and other than that, there are also students who have come to just witness one and some other purposeful individuals, albeit, the courtroom is filled. The silence is thick, every cough or chair scrape feeling louder than it should because every sound that is not inevitable is not allowed in the court, it should always be bone silent and they all try to keep to the rule, although the silence can feel a bit suffocating but they can’t help it.At the defense table, John Worth stands stiffly, his head cast downwards staring at his feet or at the floor, either, wearing the same annoyingly orange jumper he has worn to every hearing in the past week.His hands rest by his sides, fisted
The invitation arrives in a black velvet envelope.No name. No logo. Just a gold wax seal marked with a wolf’s head.Bethany turns it over twice before she slits it open with a knife and slides the lacy edged card out.It reads,“The Campbell Conglomerate is cordially invited to the Sterling Foundation’s Annual Black-Tie Gala.Theme: Midnight Masquerade.Date: This Saturday, 8 PM.Location: The Glass House, Midtown.Dress Code: Formal. Masks mandatory.Life’s a game, play it.”Bethany does not react for a second, and then reads it again… “This is either someone’s idea of a costume party or a shoddy job at making an actual party.”Arthur reads it as well, over her shoulder and frowns, not even the flicker of a smile either. “That’s not real.”“Oh, it is real,” Bethany murmurs. “And it’s bait. It is so obviously so… Sterling Foundation.”Arthur’s jaw tightens. “So we’re not going, it’s that simple.”Bethany turns slowly to face him, eyes clear and determination firm. “I do not run from
The Campbell Conglomerate headquarters is as full as it always is during the days of the week, and the staff are pretty loyal even when their boss has not been in to work for quite some time. The rumor has start to spread that she died or something most especially due to the fact that they had seen as she had been flung into the air two weeks before, had watched as her husband, with bruises of his own, had lifted her off the ground into the ambulance by himself and still making sure that everything, about her, was all in control…For the time she had been at the hospital, Arthur had made sure that Jade was always within reach and every of their works in progress, not out of reach, it had all been in control even when he had been devastated at the foot of her bed.And for it being so early in the morning, it is not silent, it is quite the opposite actually.There’s movement everywhere, in the halls and corners. Phones ringing and staff picking up. Meetings booked not minding that the b
He steps out of the car and closes the door behind him, Bethany is at home now and he just needs to stop by somewhere to make his point known, now that he knows who it is and his wife now does too, there is nothing to hide but to tell her to own up to her crimes and mistakes and just leave them be.Arthur Worth steps out of the sleek black elevator on the top floor and into hell, the dim lighting down the hall, the glass doors that do not reflect anything, looks like a child’s imagination of the opposite of heaven.The top floor of the glass building is colder than a morgue, the air conditioning in strategic positions not exactly helping either. Polished concrete floors. Steel framed windows. Air that smells faintly metallic, Ew.The place seems a little bit deserted and a little bit too silent for this mid afternoon period where staffs are supposed to be wandering around, talking and gossiping over cups of coffee and snacks, waiting for the time they can head for home.Ahead, the gla
It takes about an hour.One long, slow, silent hour between the couple.Bethany stubbornly keeps her back turned toward Arthur, stewing in her own complicated swirl of already fake anger and her pride not wanting to speak first.Bethany tries.God, she tries to stay mad at him but...For a full hour, she gives Arthur the full on, patented silent treatment, staring stubbornly at the wall on the other side of thr bed, answering in one word grunts if he so much as breathes too loudly so he’ll catch himself from disturbing her ‘sleep’.But she’s very terrible at it.She’s always been terrible at it when it came to people she loved.She cracks before the sixty minute mark, because when she finally turns her head, awkwardly and carefully because of the neck brace, she sees him sitting at the very edge of her hospital bed.Not looking at her.Not doing anything visible to her.Just… sitting there by the bedside.Palms flat on the mattress. Head bowed.Like he’s waiting to be sentenced. He do
The hallway is dim and seemingly never ending. Just like is her job to do this once in a while, she is going to do it once again before clocking out of work for the day.Ana Yang walks briskly down the sterile, silver lit corridor of Unique Auditing’s private floor. Her heels click sharply against the marble tile, echoing between the glass walls and chrome doors, ignoring everyone she meets on her way since she has one single focus in mind, do this and get the hell out of here.She clutches a thick folder to her chest, filled with updates, invoices, coded communications. The usual weapons of their currently losing war, she’ll be dropping off the file with the ceo before leaving.Ahead of her, the double doors to the CEO's office loom like the gates of some modern day hell.She swipes her keycard.The lock clicks and the doors swing open.Inside, the room is dim, only thin shafts of light cutting across the floor from narrow windows.And, as always, the swivel chair behind the vast mah
The fourth day in the hospital after the blast seemed just as bleak as the first three days that had come and gone, waiting for Bethany to wake up and open her eyes to absolutely no avail.Arthur hasn’t left her side. Not once, making sure to make sure that she is attended to every single time and cleaning her unconscious body every morning and night.The nurses have stopped trying to convince him to take a break and go home or something. At this point, he’s more permanent than the IV drip standing by her bedside. Martha comes and goes, bringing fresh clothes, home cooked meals that Arthur barely touches, whispered encouragements he barely hears but nods smilingly at anyway, the old woman already has too much on her neck so Arthur always manages to persuade her to go back home as well each time.He sits beside her now, as he has for four days, one hand curled over Bethany’s motionless fingers, holding them as though he is using his body’s warmth to remind her of the way back to him, b
Time slows.Bethany’s fingers brush the handle of the driver’s side door just as the second beep-beep fades into the air. A bird chirps from the lamp post above the lot. The wheels of a nearby shopping cart squeal as someone exits the pharmacy across the road. Arthur opens his mouth to say something…And the world erupts.BOOM.It’s not just a noise., it’s a force. A living, monstrous thing that tears through air, glass, and metal like paper. The car explodes in a big explosion of fire and shrapnel, its roof splitting, hurling into the sky. The windshield vaporizes in a white hot flash and for the person standing right next to the explosion...Bethany is thrown violently backward. Not a stumble. Not a fall. She is launched into the air like a ragdoll and what goes up, always comes down.Her body hits the ground very hard. The sound is sickening, skin on pavement, ribs crunching, skull cracking and the audible sound of all of it.Then stillness.Alarms scream in every direction. The
The man walks in front of the station like he’s trying not to walk into a landmine, slow, tentative steps. He stops at the top of the stairs, takes one deep sigh, rubs his weak looking eyes and takes the few more steps into the building.He does not take big strides and no waving hands. Just quiet, precise steps through the front doors of the Precinct, wearing a weather beaten hoodie and jeans that have seen better years. His eyes are the kind that don’t blink enough, too haunted to remember how.Or at least that is what it looks like to whoever cares to give him a glance.At the front desk, Officer Laney gives him the once over. She’s halfway through sipping her third iced latte when she asks, “Can I help you sir?”The man doesn’t answer at first, first choosing to check if she is a police officer since she is in civilian clothes, then seeing her badge in her hands, he sighs audibly before responding, saying…“I need to talk to someone. Someone in charge of a particular case here.”L
Rumors begin less than three days later.Apparently, grabbing a cup of coffee with a beautiful female Major is grounds for rumors, and even people whom you don’t know who begin to study your every move. The rumors, with truths in them however, rage on the barracks.They spread like heat on dry bush. Fast, wild and pretty much unstoppable. A Major seen sneaking smiles at a Lieutenant during drills, the same Lieutenant caught slipping out of the officer's quarters too early in the morning.Chara doesn’t as much as flinch when she hears then, she’s pretty much used to the weight of judgment.Chara doesn’t pretend to care, not at all.She keeps her chin high, her stride sharp like the boss lady that she is, like no one dares say it to her face, because they really do not dare say it to her face.But Mason hears it.He hears them and unlike Chara with her own steely indifference, he is not indifferent to it.And it gets harder to ignore, mostly because it is not all about him but her.Mason