Chapter 10

Vivian sat with one leg up on the seat, at the dinning room table, drinking coffee. She cupped her chin with her right hand and stirred the coffee involuntary with the other; lost in her train of thoughts. 

She began to feel guilty, but she couldn't give up now. She was doing this for a special reason that meant so much. She didn't want others to be hurt because of Charles; nonetheless, she wasn't going to allow people's emotions to interfere with what she was destined to do— make Charles suffer, and save her own ass. 

She was brought out of oblivion by the ringtone of her phone. She stared at the screen, shortly, before answering the call. 

"What a nice performance, Vee. I'm so proud of you," the caller on the line said, mockery evident in her voice. "You did extremely well. I must admit."

She couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "You're very hypocritical, I must admit," she stated. 

"At least I'm not the one who doesn't want my family to stone me to death because I'm a lesbian. You wouldn't want your mother to die from heart attack because her only surviving daughter is homosexual, would you?"

Vivian remained silent for a long time. She knew that her religion forbid such an act, and they will have no mercy on her if her secret is revealed. She didn't know exactly what they would do to her, but she knew it wasn't something she was ready to face— not when she had a reason to be alive.

"I've already done what you asked me to do," she reminded. "Why are you still bothering me?"

"You haven't done anything yet. That was just number one of what I had for you to do. There are many to come."

"What do you want me to do next?" Vivian asked, rolling her eyes. She had lost all her appetite that she had for the coffee. 

"That's my girl," the same mocking tone came back to the surface. "You will move in at their house, with the boy. You already know what to do to make yourself stay."

Remembering what Charles did an hour ago, she said, "I don't think that's a good idea. Charles almost killed me few hours ago. He will accomplish what he didn't do today if I dare do that," in a very understanding tone. 

"Are you questioning my orders?"

"It would make no difference dying while carrying out your order," she almost raised her voice, but she controlled the boiling anger in her. "Dead is dead." She put her other leg down on the floor. 

"Not for you. Your life sits on your tongue, Vee. You know exactly what to do if you want to live. Do I have to tell you everything?"

No. She knew exactly what to do to keep herself alive. And that was exactly what she was going to do. But there was one problem. It wasn't going to be easy to take the boy from his grandparents. 

"I have one problem," she informed. "There is no way my mom is going to allow me take the boy from her without an adequate reason."

"What did I tell you, Vivian? Your life is in your motherfucking mouth..."

"You don't understand how connected my mother is to that boy. There is no way I can take him from her house. Unless," you want me kidnap him, she said the last line in her head. 

"Vee, I don't care. You have tomorrow to take that kid. I want you at Charles and Rachael's house the day after. Understood?" The tension was coming from the other side of the line.

Vivian was the pressured one. 

"You need to underst—" the call was hung up from the other side of the Line before Vivian could even say half of what she wanted to say. 

Rachael didn't feel like sleeping. She didn't feel like staying home too, so she made Thomas take her to their parents house, though he protested. He kept complaining until they reached; talking about what Charles will do to him when he finds out that he allowed her to leave the house when she wasn't feeling alright. 

"Mom," she called her mother as she opened her parents' room door. Her mom had been on the phone when she entered. Harriet completed the conversation before hanging up. 

Harriet was shocked to see Rachael all dressed in a black, kneel-length, silky skirt, pink blouse, pink pencil heels, and a black handbag— her own designs. "What are you doing here?" She asked with concern, walking to Rachael. "I was about to come over." 

Harriet was already dressed in an forest green skirt suit, and black undershirt. She was barefooted. 

"I dont feel like staying in bed the whole day. I was already getting bored, so I told Thomas to accompany me here," she explained to her mom, sitting next to her on the sofa in their room. 

"That sounds more like dragging him." She giggled. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, placing her hand on Rachael's forehead. Rachael nodded. "You're sure?" 

"I'm fine, mom. I swear," she convinced, smiling. "Where is daddy?" She asked, putting her bag on the floor. 

 "He went to pick Ashley up at the airport," Harriet answered. "So, why are you here?" She quickly changed the topic because she knew the next question that would have been asked.

"Is it wrong for me to come to my mom when I'm lonely?" She asked childishly, faking a frown. 

Lonely? What did she mean lonely?

"Don't tell me you are here because you want to avoid Charles," she stated, scrutinizing Rachael who looked at her fingers, picking her nails. 

"That's what I planned to do—" Rachael said, "—but how will I do so when he is the one avoiding me? He didn't go home after we left the church. He hasn't even called to check on me." She cleared her mother's doubt after her mother gave her the look of curiosity.

She pulled Rachael closer to her and hugged her the tightly. "It's okay," she said in Rachael's hair. "He may be hurt right now too. Maybe he went to clear his head."

Maybe.