CHAPTER 3

It has been four days since I ran into Ivan Volkov.

I didn't tell dad about it; he would worry that I was in danger. I had seen a few policemen putting yellow tapes over the place. I had found Ivan beside the trash bin; it was a crime scene now. Somebody had probably reported it, and they didn't know it was him. 

"Ms. Parker!” my dad's voice suddenly rang in the air, dragging my mind back to the present.

I looked around the brightly lit classroom; all eyes were on me now. I swallowed. “Yes, Professor?”

He had a worried expression on his face; I think he wondered what was wrong with me. “I asked a question. Do you care to answer?"

Oh no, I didn't hear the answer.

I gulped, “Can you…repeat it?”

He exhaled, “What is the importance of branding in advertising?"

I adjusted myself in my seat. “It makes the company recognizable,” I responded.

He nodded and turned around as he continued to explain further. 

My teeth clenched as I felt a hand pull my hair from behind. “Nerd,” Alison mocked. Alison was a bully; she has had it out for me since day one. She would hit me and pour expired milk on my books so that I would have to start them all over again. One time she put gum in my hair when I was asleep in class, and I had to cut my hair; thankfully, it had grown back out. 

I always wanted to keep it long, just like Mom; Dad always said I looked like her. I think he saw her face when he looked at me. 

Soon the bell rang, and I quickly stood up and grabbed my backpack. I had on a yellow sundress, and my black hair sat on my back, each side pinned behind my ear as I tried to run out. It was time to go home; the other girls moved to the school's campus, while I had a little one-bedroom apartment just outside. Dad had gotten it when he found out I was getting bullied; if only he knew it was still happening. 

I tried to rush past the crowd of students that were also trying to go out of class.

"Mr. Parker!” Dad's voice halted me at the door.

I slowly turned around; I saw him searching the crowd for me. Should I just run off?

“Ms. Parker!" 

Sigh. 

I turned back and headed towards him; soon his gaze caught me. We waited for the rest of the students to leave before he drew closer, his black eyes forming a heart. “Jennie, why are you running away from me?”

“I just wanted to get home early,” I lied. I looked back and hoped Alison had left. 

“You have been acting strange these past couple of days.” 

Maybe it's because I treated a dangerous mafia boss in our coffee shop, and he might come back to kill us?

I didn't do anything wrong to him. 

But wasn't that all it meant to be mafia? 

To hurt innocent people?

“You have been absent-minded as well; you have never not listened in class before.” 

“I'm sorry, Dad. I'll do better, but now I have to go; I have homework,” I said. 

He nodded, and I turned to leave. 

The halls were filled with students walking in opposite directions. I walked out of school and ran home; thankfully, Alison was nowhere around. 

I walked hurriedly under the unfriendly sun; my head was bowed to avoid the rays of the sun hitting my eyes. Soon I walked past the liquor shop. I would have to go back there later to help Dad sell. 

As I turned to walk past the street Ivan had been shot at, I held my breath. I did the same thing every day; I couldn't stop thinking about all the blood. 

Wait… Would I get into trouble with the police if I found out that I helped him?

The caution tapes were still there; the dried blood on the ground made my stomach turn. As I walked past, I heard the low hum of a car. I slowed my footsteps and turned; it was Alison's car. 

“Hey nerd!” Jackson shouted from within the car; he was her boyfriend and just as much of a bully as she was. Alison sat beside him in the car. It was a black SUV.

“Don't forget about my project, dummy. You know what happened the last time you did?” 

I clenched my fist. The last time she asked me to do her project, Dad had fallen sick, and I had forgotten. She had Jackson drag my hair and dip it in the pool until I couldn't breathe. They laughed like it meant nothing, but I almost died; a second longer and I would have passed out. 

We weren't in high school anymore; how could they act that way?

I didn't tell that; he was me, dripping wet, and I lied that I had fallen in. I don't think he believed me, but he said nothing, only a worried look in his eyes. 

Soon I reached my home.

As I reached for my doorknob, I pulled back with a low creak. It was strange; I didn't have to twist it, which meant that it had been unlocked before. I always locked my door. Has my mind been so occupied that I would forget?

I walked into the house and closed the door shut. 

I tossed my bag on one of the chairs and moved to pull the curtains aside to let some sunlight into the house. The living room wasn't as big as I would have wanted, but it was my space, and I would rather be here than with bullies on campus. 

I moved to the kitchen to make lunch, but I suddenly saw footsteps. I froze; they weren't mine. It had the echo that would only come from a man's boots.

“Jennifer,” 

I spun around in shock as I heard my name; it was Ivan. He stood before my bedroom door. He was dressed in a white button-up shirt and a pair of black pants. His grip was tight on his stomach; it was bleeding. I knew he had gotten shot or had the old wound reopened.

He staggered backwards and placed his hand on the doorframe to support himself, his blood smeared on the door; he panted, his green eyes moving up to meet my gaze.

How did he find me?

My hand flew to my mouth. “Did the bullet wound reopen? "Why didn't you go see a doctor?” I trembled with fear. 

"Hospital…not a good idea.” He tried to walk towards me but slumped and hit the ground.

I rushed to him and knelt beside him.

He grabbed his shirt and pulled on it until the buttons came flying off, exposing his body. It was a fresh bullet wound. “I need your help,” he groaned. “I… I think I'm going to pass out…” his bloody hand reached for mine, smearing blood all over it as he held it tightly. 

I shook my head. "No…you can't…I can't treat your wound.” 

But it was too late; his eyes had closed and his breathing slowed down. 

Why did he think of coming here of all places?

I quickly rushed to get a first aid box. “My phone…I can look up a tutorial…” I stuttered as I looked around the place, my breath shaking. Soon I found it. I rushed to his side and knelt beside him; with trembling hands, I began to search for instructions on the internet. 

“Please…please don't die on me,” I stuttered. 

I didn't think I was mentally prepared to see a dead body.