The Invasion

43 | World Solutions

In front of my father, I'm reduced to a nervous mess. Like a child who just craves a hug from her long-lost parent.

I'm a hundred percent convinced that he's really Dad, that he was the one who has been watching out for me from the waters when I was a kid. Now that the apocalypse had happened, he must have come back to look for us.

But things have not gone in his way.

Dad dresses the same way Zarius did when we first met—black scale-like bodysuit with markings covering his neckline. Thick braids run along each side of his head and meet at the back, revealing his sharp jawline.

However, there's something amiss about him. He drags his feet forward, back hunching a little. His face is a porcelain white with his eyes blank out, the corners tinge with blood.

My chest heaves with anxious breaths. "Are you alright–"

A hand goes for my throat, and he slams me against the wall. His bloodshot eyes stare into mine coolly, looking every bit cold and murderous. He acts as if I'm a stranger to him, like a body without a soul.

He doesn't recognize me.

This isn't him.

I clutch at the fingers squeezing my throat desperately, unable to find air. All that comes out of me is a wheezing voice. "Hck–"

Black dots crawl at the corners of my vision. When I think I'm about to pass out, Dad's hand releases me and I drop to the ground, hacking with coughs. My eyes peer up at him in disbelief.

What?

Dad continues pinning me with his vacant stare. When he shifts a step forward, I scramble away quickly on my hands and knees, knowing that I'm in deep trouble.

Something is controlling and instructing him to hurt me.

The military is obviously behind this. And World Solutions. They're a team together.

Soon, it becomes a chase in this confined space. As I'm crawling away, Dad grabs both my ankles and flings me to the other side of the room. The impact of my head hitting the wall stuns me. I can feel a bruise forming and throbbing so badly, as if my skull is about to split open.

My groans fill the air. In a split second, he grabs my arm and yanks me upwards. His hand grips my throat painfully. I feel myself lifted against the wall. Against his powerfully built muscles, my kicks are like a child's—desperate and feeble.

No matter how much he's hurting me, I really don't wish to harm my father but the one who's hiding behind the screen and enjoying this torture.

"L-Laiken, please..." I reach for his face, my fingertips grazing his cheek. Hoping to reach him through the fog in his mind. My voice drops to a strangulated, pleading whisper so no one can hear me. "Daddy, stop this..."

Something washes over his eyes almost imperceptibly. He blinks once, then another, just staring at me. Suddenly, he lets go of my throat and throws an aggressive punch towards me, but it hits the wall beside my face and leaves a big dent.

An angry tremor runs through him, and I can tell he's fighting for control over himself. In a low growl, he leans down until his chin presses against the top of my head. Every word he says is labored with effort.

"You cannot be here, my sweet child."

I inhale sharply. Emotions choke me from the affection in his words. In this position, it's like I'm tucked into his broad chest and shielded from cameras as tears spill from my eyes. "What have they done to you?"

"It is not just me," he answers. "There are others here as well."

Oh my god. "Other merfolks? What is this place?"