----- A - W E E K - L A T E R -----
☘︎ Jᴇɴɴɪғᴇʀ Rʏsᴏɴ ☘︎
By the end of another week, my hallucinations grow crazier.
The sightings of the clown turn to a level where I see him everywhere-those cynical eyes tracing my each move, that eerie smile plaguing my vision and his presence following me like a shadow.
No one else can see him except me.
It started a week ago. Right after the night of the clown's sighting in the jacuzzi area, which-when Lykas checked the place-turns out there was no one in the entire mansion except us. In a stunned silence I'd gotten out of the pool and pulled on a robe, while Lykas glanced everywhere but my very naked self covering my body. I'd left him in a state of a flustered mess and if it weren't for my head trying to wrap around the fact that I was loosing it, I'd have actually stood back and admired the sight.
Then the next night when I'd entered my room, there was low music playing. The lyrics of Hide & Seek echoing like a haunting melody, reminding me of the clown singing the exact same song in his eerie voice. I'd checked the radio player in my room and when it showed turned off while I still heard the creepy lullaby, the panic that had seized my skin had stopped me from thinking straight. Before I knew it, I was walking across the hallway and knocking at Lykas' door.
He'd answered right away, half-naked and looking intoxicatingly disoriented with sweat-pants hanging low on his hips, hair rumpled and eyes half-lidded with sleep. For a moment, I'd forgotten what I was even panicked about.
Until all traces of sleep left Lykas at the sight of me, reminding me of the music. Whatever he saw on my face had his eyebrows pinching together in concern. It had come out as a complete surprise when he'd pulled me into the warmth of his embrace, his large arms wrapped around my form giving a sense of safety. It wasn't until then I realized I was trembling.
"It's the clown again?" His gentle touch caressing the length of my hair was soothing. He was warm. So warm.
I'd nodded against his bare chest, my cheek involuntarily leaning into the hardness of his body, "There's music playing in my room. The song the clown used to sing when he kept us in the warehouse."
Lykas' stature had freezed wholly at that, his arms wrapping tighter, pulling me closer even when my hands remained hanging at my sides, "I'll go check. You stay here, okay?"
Despite his protests, I'd followed him along after giving him a dark scowl for trying to keep me out of the situation. I could handle myself just fine. But he'd grabbed my hand possessively like a caveman, giving it a gentle squeeze of assurance. I didn't tell him it made me feel a lot better.
When we'd gotten to my room, there was dead silence, like the song wasn't even playing to begin with.
My hand slipping out of Lykas' hold, the hollowness that had entered my bloodstream at the possibility of me making-up the clown in my fucked-up mind, must've showed on my face when I said, "I must've imagined it like yesterday in the jacuzzi. It's been happening for a week now. I just. . .I don't know what to believe."
Lykas had cupped my face with large, warm palms and conveyed, "I believe you, even if anyone doesn't. Even if you don't believe yourself. I'm sure you're not hallucinating. There has to be something wrong. Someone must've broke in. We'll ask the security."
We did ask the security, checked the cameras for any suspicious intruding and went as far as asking my bodyguards whether they'd sensed anyone following me the past few days. The head of security, Nathaniel, did seem a bit nervous for an army-trained bodyguard when he answered but they'd all concluded the same thing; There's no one following me. It was my mind playing tricks on me.
The thought had unsettled me so much that I hadn't even bothered to protest when Lykas had declared I sleep in his room because he wasn't risking anyone stalking me. He'd given me my space, almost tucking me under the covers to sleep in the comforts of the bed while he lay uncomfortably on the couch that was too small to accommodate his height.
In the morning though, I'd found him sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed, his head resting on the edge of the mattress while he held my right hand in his as if telling me he's here.
The effort in his actions had my heart soften enough to make me extend my hand and brush away soft, silky midnight locks of hair from his forehead and run my fingertips along his sharp cheekbones. He looked so beautiful and peaceful, like a sun when it rises.
The thought had me smiling because Lykas did have that quality, like the first ray of sunshine after a dark night. The exact same moment he'd fluttered open his eyes and caught me smiling down at him. The warm, thirty-six toothed, just-woke-up-from-sleep smile he'd flashed at me had my heart skipping a beat or two.
"Gosh Ryson, are you trying to break my poor heart by waking me up to that smile?" He'd lifted his head from the mattress, ran a thumb along the plumpness of my still curved-up bottom lip and added softly, "Not that I'm complaining. I could get used to it." He was beaming so gleefully, I could practically sense rainbows and sunshine erupting from him.
I'd scowled so hard at his words, he'd ended up laughing hysterically. I'd wanted to increase the degree of my scowl but it was so much harder when the sound of his deep laughter was so contagious, I couldn't stop the light chuckle escaping my lips.
Lykas had looked at me in such a starstruck daze as though I was a creature descended straight from heaven, performing fascinating magic on him.
"Oh my God, you're laughing!" It was so dramatic the way he was gawking.
I'd groaned, chucking a pillow at his face to stop myself from seeing the literal heart emoticons in his eyes. Then I'd stormed out of the room pretending to be annoyed when a wide smile spilled on my lips once I was in the hallway.
He was so. . .unusual. He had this quality of making me forget the nagging thoughts of my slipping sanity everytime I'm with him. He made me feel grounded. Lykas is, in a way, my safe zone.
The days following it just proved it about right. Because when I'd found the clown standing at my windowsill the next day, when I'd stumbled upon the sight of surgical scissors and knives in my wardrobe the day after, when three days ago the temperature of the place I was seated in had dropped too low reminding me of the day when the clown had locked us up in the refrigerating unit, when I heard those heavy thudding footsteps in the hallways whenever I was alone in my room, only to find out all of them were never really there as Nathaniel checked the place. I'd ended up going to Lykas to help myself from loosing it or worse, breaking down.
Each day, Lykas' concern grew so much, he barely let me out of sight. Trailing me everywhere, plucking flowers from the garden and tucking them in my hair or behind my ear when I went for a walk around the neighborhood, making food for me so that I didn't have to leave the house to get takeaway since I couldn't even trust the deliveries anymore after once a pizza delivery boy showed up in a clown costume as a part of Halloween theme. The fact that it was nearly Halloween week was making me more and more edgy from even stepping out of the house. I somehow saw every dressed up person in a clown's costume.
Lykas believes I'm perfectly fine and am being haunted on purpose, but a part of me knows I'm loosing my mind. The delusions were bothering me so much that I had to do something about it.
After tricking Lykas into checking up with Ethan by assuring him I'd stay at home, I'd slipped out of the house once he left. I do feel guilty about it but I had to do this. If I'd told Lykas about it, he tends to get overly worried, I don't like that look of concern in his eyes. Happiness suits him. Besides, Ethan could use some help with how obsessively he's been trying to find the girl without the records the last whole week.
Meanwhile this, meeting a psychologist, I have to do it by myself.
***
Pushing the reverie to the back of my mind, I divert my attention to the present.
I wasn't sure what to expect when I walked into Dr Kiran Monroe's Ward of Psychiatry in Mount Sinai Hospital, but it sure as hell wasn't finding my father exiting the doctor's main cabin, in midst of what seemed to be a very important conversation.
"Do you think you could keep my visit a secret if anyone comes asking for it?" He questions Dr Kiran, a middle-aged woman with raven hair and thick-rimmed glasses.
"You don't have to worry about it, Mr Davidson." She nods in understanding, escorting him out her door.
"Thank you, that's very helpful of you." He's earnest in his appreciation as the doctor returns a professional nod and ventures back into her cabin, shutting the door behind her.
Samuel Davidson sighs, his eyes downcast on his footwear, his shoulders slumped. He's in a custom-tailored business suit, his salt-pepper hair somehow thinner and dark circles ringing the rim of his eyes. He looks tired and worn out.
As Dad collects himself from whatever was bothering him and lifts his head to take in his surroundings, I see it in the moment his green eyes sweep the waiting area outside the doctor's cabin and lands on me seated at an isolated corner.
Samuel Davidson blinks in confusion, seeming stuck at the knowledge of my presence. The nurse calls out my name to enter the doctor's cabin next but with my father staring, I'm momentarily stunned to shock. Why is he visiting a psychologist? Why would he want to keep his visit a secret? Who'd come asking for him?
The questions plague me. The nurse when she doesn't get any response to the name Jennifer Ryson being called out repeatedly, moves on to the next patient. There goes my appointment. I should tell her I'm here and get a check-up with the doctor but with Dad here, I just can't for some reason.
Dad stands there seeming conflicted before he decides to take a seat beside me. I don't know what to do.
Awkwardness and that ever-present edginess and anger buzz under my skin. But unlike other days, it's moderate today because I'm plagued by the thoughts of the clown and getting back to my house before Lykas figures out I'm not there and suffers from a worry stroke.
"Why are you visiting?" Dad asks the question I didn't want him to ask.
I sit straighter, not answering for a minute too long. Then settling with, "I could ask the same."
Samuel Davidson sighs, running a hand through his salt-pepper hair, "I just wanted to enquire something from her since I was visting the hospital anyways." He pauses, looks at me with a surprisingly affectionate smile, "I didn't get a chance to say this before, but I'd been concluding for a while that Lykas likes you and I'm happy for how it turned out. Congratulations on your engagement, Jenna."
He hadn't called me Jenna in like ever. His pleasant behavior and more of wordings than usual is suspicious. I think of how in the past week, Ethan had crossed down to last of the three known suspects. How alongside David and Mia, Dad's one of the suspects. How Dad had tried and put in efforts to make conversation and small talks with me ever since I'd returned to Davidson Villa, even when I constantly avoided him.
Without considering it twice, I fire the question, "Did you publish the article two weeks ago about mom's death?"
It takes Dad a minute to register the words before raw hurt flashes in his features, "I didn't. I wouldn't. Contrary to what you believe, I'm still your father and I do care about you, Jennifer."
The emotion in his eyes and the brokenness of his voice is too real for me to consider him to be lying. Shit.
I'm halfway from apologizing before I realize he wasn't that much caring when he sent me away twelve years ago.
"You didn't care twelve years ago." I softly rebuke, all the burried emotions somehow flowing out, "You chose your company's reputation over me. I needed my father then. But you just sent me away."
"Is that what you think?" Dad's green eyes are pools of conflict and pain, "I'm not a saint, Jennifer. I haven't always done the right things. I've done things I still regret. But one thing I'll never regret is falling for your mother. I loved her. Still do. I was heartbroken at her death and I didn't know what to do. I felt like I was going to loose it. Pushing you away might not have been the best solution and I've been guilty about it for so long, but I didn't do it for the sake of my company, it was for your benefit."
Dad turns his body to me, patting my head as though I'm still his little daughter, "People would've eaten you alive with their mean words if they would've gotten even a whiff of you being involved in your mother's death, albeit accidentally. I haven't gotten to where I am without making enemies. If I'd have mentioned that you somehow made it out alive from the attack, my rivals would've gotten doubtful and digged deeper. The only way to end it for once and all was to extinguish every trace of the incident, and make sure no one could point fingers at Violet Davidson. I couldn't keep you here knowing very well how determined you looked to give up yourself to the law. You were going to be your own doom because of the guilt. So I made the decision for you and sent you away."
Dad's hand drops from my head to his side, a saddened expression taking over his face, "I know I should've made an effort to be a part of your life but I just kept stalling and stalling for years because I felt guilty for pushing you away in the first place. Now it's too late. . ." There's a slight catch on his last sentence that has my alarms blarring.
There's something so ominous about that statement. . . .
"What do you mean by 'too late'?"
Dad doesn't answer, his eyes widening as if he'd slipped up. He rises from his seat, ready to leave. But I hang onto his words, my heartbeat suddenly rising. I grab his arm when he tries to walk away, "Dad, what is it?"
He looked so determined to avoid the question but it's the 'Dad' I've called him with a soft and urging tone after twelve years that breaks his resolution.
And in that moment, Samuel Davidson looks a decade older than his age as he conveys, "I have cancer."
***
☘︎ Lʏᴋᴀs Vɪᴛᴀʟʟɪs ☘︎
There are far important things I'd rather be doing right now than be seated in a posh woodsy office, hearing Ethan Langford throw curse words and nearly rip his hair out of frustration.
Those far important things being presenting the large bouquet of Gladiolus made up of all the seven rainbow colors, to Jennifer. It'd taken the florists a week to import the exact flower in the exact color range and prepare the bouquet I requested them to. I can't wait longer to give Jennifer the bouquet and see that amused reaction flash across her face. I can't wait to see those beautiful green eyes light up even if she pretends to be annoyed.
But first, I need to get out of this accursed police station.
Ethan is still grunting like there's no tomorrow, "This person, whoever it is, knows Jennifer too well to be able to comprehend her whereabouts, sneak through her security system and put in false-loops while deleting the actual footage."
"We gathered that much already." I raise my index finger to emphasize.
Ethan mutters some sort of gibberish curse under his breath and turns back to his file, "Who the hell is this girl with the missing records? What kind of family has such strong connections that even my family's pressure can't have answers spilling out of the department people?"
"Must be the mafia." I joke half-heartedly, remembering how Romeo's orders have people cowering and deflating anyone else's pressure. Dangerous families can do that. But we've already gathered the girl is from a dangerous family, so it puts us back to square one.
Ethan grunts again, catching the reference, "Romeo doesn't have a sister I know of."
"Maybe you don't know him well enough." I wink at him, poking his ego. It's a different sort of fun to rile people and Ethan needs to chill the fuck down to think clearly with that cop brain of his.
As though universe is mocking the saying name of the devil, my phone rings in my jeans pocket. When I fish out the device, Romeo's name flashes on the screen with a gun emoji next to it.
Raising my brow in amusement, I pick up the call, "Hello, sunshine." I croon.
Romeo's voice is as blank as ever, jumping straight to the point, "I'm in New York." After a moment he adds begrudgingly, seemingly having observed his surrounding, "In a club."
Wasn't he in Italy?! Since when did Romeo start going to clubs?!
I blink, my eyes growing wide, "You're where-"
"New York. In a club." He repeats calmly as though speaking to a toddler, "Your fiancé is here. And I think-" He pauses to rephrase, "I believe she's with unlikely company."
"What? Unlikely company who-"
"Be here quick. I'll send you the location." He then proceeds to cut the call while I sit there with my jaw hanging.
Jennifer promised me she'd be at home. I know how paranoid she gets when she leaves her house, especially in crowded places. A club is a crowded place.
Fucking Shit. I need to get there.
--------᪥♔︎᪥--------
LYKAS + FLOWERS + RAINBOW COLOURED THINGS = FOREVER BOUND🤝
A longer chapter for taking teensy bit longer to update🤪👍
Don't massacre me for throwing in the drama with Samuel. It'll all make sense in the end🥲
Who do you think is the "unlikely company" with Jennifer in the club?
Y'all have any theories? On the missing girl? Samuel? Or the clown?👀
I'm sorta excited about the next chapter for reasons🌚