"What on earth were you thinking?" Grandma snaps.
I frown at her question. "What do you mean?"
"Drugs," she hisses.
This fucking thing again. "What are you talking about with guests here?" I use her weapon against her.
"You said you don't want to talk in front of Dante and this man heard everything yesterday, don't try to avoid the subject."
"What a backwards way of thinking. Could you listen to me for once? I didn't take drugs. And I need to talk to you about what you found out, not this shit," I say and lift my hand to stop her next barrage of complaints. "My friend got taken by slavers, but they were targeting me. That fucker you tracked found me, and wanted them to kidnap me, but they got Greece instead."
Grandma gapes her mouth and her face pales. "No," she whispers and places her cup on the table. "You need to get away from the city."
I scoff loudly at the audacity. "We're not going anywhere. I need to save Greece."
"Think about your son," Gran says with a chastising tone. "What happens if that man finds out he has a son? Do you even think about what could happen?"
I grind my teeth and take a moment to calm my nerves. "Gran… don't make this sound like it's my fault. You went and poked around the hornets nest."
"This isn't about blame—"
"You told me to kill the guy!" I snap. "You found him and now that it came to bite you in the ass you want to try to escape Joddel? Are you fucking crazy?"
"Isn't that a better choice?" She whispers, visibly shaken.
It honestly might be. If this were a normal situation I'd be on board with that plan, no matter how dangerous it is to try and smuggle people out of here. But Greece's life is on the line now.
"I can't leave my friend there and escape," I say calmly. "I have an appointment in the lab the day after tomorrow, so I'm going there, find Greece, and help her."
"What about that asshole?" She snaps, rising from her seat. "The man who ruined your life, the one you're terrified of. What if you see him? Will you be able to kill him, let alone face him? Just leave this rotten place."
I stare emptily at her strangely defiant expression. She made this whole mess and now she's trying to pretend like it's all on me? I can't make sense of what the hell she wants. Yesterday she was begging me to kill him, but now she's telling me to turn my tail and run?
"What do you want from me?" I ask, tired of her games.
"Think about Dante," she says.
I fling my hand up and scoff. "What the fuck? Do you think I don't think about him? He's the first on my mind every goddamn hour, minute, and second of the day. I'll do anything to keep him safe."
Grandma smiles and nods at my words. "Then leave your friend and escape with Dante."
"I swear to God, if you don't stop now, I'll do something we both will regret," I mutter and put my mug on the table so I don't fling it at her. "I'll try to do just as you asked. I'll try to kill him, if I don't come back, you try to escape with Dante. Ask Gurk to—"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Grandma interrupts me, spitting on me with the outburst. She stands right in front of me and stabs a finger at me. "I'm an old woman, what can I do? Do you want to send your son alone to the world?"
"You started this whole problem!" I snap back and get up to face her. "You are the one who got that… that rapist to come after me again! We were good!"
"Not good!" She yells. "You went back to drugs, fuck for a living, and don't even care for your sons wellbeing! He misses you constantly, but you're fucking around on every corner of the world!"
I clench my hand and squeeze it so hard it hurts. My whole arm shakes from anger. "Everything I do is for you and him," I grind through my teeth.
She scoffs and throws her head back to laugh dryly. "So many jobs to choose from, but you choose to stay away from your family? Don't lie to me."
"Do you think I enjoy being away? I miss so much of Dante's growth. Do you have any idea how much everything costs? Do you know how much anyone here gets paid? Do you know how well you eat? Have you ever looked around?" I grind out and poke her chest. "You would be dead if not for me. If I wasn't doing what I am, you would be out on the streets like the rest of them. We were on the streets if you forgot! I can't make enough to support us with normal jobs."
"Don't blame your bad decisions on me," she has the audacity to say. "You could do more work and get fair pay. We could do with less."
"Oh. My God." I groan and palm my face. "What the hell do you want from me? Before you complained that there wasn't enough, and now you say it's too much. You can't have everything."
"We were fine," she says defiantly. "We were happier, and you were present."
We were not fine, nor were we happy. We were kicked out of more than ten apartments because we couldn't afford even a place with one room. We lived on the streets for months when Dante was still a kid. We constantly fought and disagreed on everything. Our fights were always about money. I did everything to afford even a week or two to stay at a motel. I did what my mom did for me and my sisters, and I'm not going to be ashamed of it.
Now we have two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom, which we didn't have the luxury for until I started working with Jasmine and the girls. Grandma has always been difficult, so the fights never stopped, but we do love and appreciate each other. Or so I thought.
"You're such a difficult old woman," I mumble and shake my head.
"And you're a drug addict," she says, like it's supposed to end the conversation.
"What if I was? What the fuck has that to do with you? I provide and give my everything so you can live comfortably," I snap, tired of the same song.
"You don't think it's a problem that you forgot whole days because of your addiction?" She says, hands on her hips. "What if you soon forget you even have a son?"
I purse my lips and sit back down. I don't have an explanation for my memory. "I won't."
"Says who?"
"I do!" I yell and smack my chest. "I haven't taken drugs. I don't know why I forgot… God, let's not have this discussion again. Just—just give me the info you gathered on that asshole."
She scoffs loudly and shakes her head disapprovingly. "I'll get you the info I got on that man, but think a little about your choices and their consequences."
I stare at my mug as grandma stomps off to her room, clearly showing off her anger.
I can't blame her, to be honest. I don't think I would trust myself either if I were her. She saw me at my worst, saw me heal, and saw me go back to the brink again. I wouldn't believe in myself either.
But goddamn it hurts.
I get my coffee and lift my legs up on the sofa so I can curl into myself. I feel terribly exposed and lonely. It feels like everyone is out to get me, and nobody is on my side… except Dante. But he's my son, so it's only a matter of course that he would be on my side, right? Nobody is doing that willingly.
I stare at a big hand, grabbing a pastry from the table, and remember who sits next to me. I crack my neck to stare as Harwal devours his food.
He licks his finger and shares my gaze. "Meat is better, but this is good."
I snort at the absurdity and obliviousness he displays. How can he listen to me go with gran and be so nonchalant?
Harwal takes his mug, which I would have to hold with two hands, with one of his. He sips his drink and eats another one of the pastries before looking at me again with his uncaring, unblinking stare.
"You have a lot of people around who care about you," he says, and I scowl.
"Are you blind?"
"Am I?"
"They resent me and blame me for everything."
"Is that so?" He says and shrugs a shoulder. "To me, it seems like they are worried for you. Some may have… unconventional ways of showing it."
"Worrying about someone isn't accusing people for something that happened years ago. She only cares about herself," I mutter, wondering why I'm even entertaining this conversation.
"She's worried you're ruining your health, in one way or another. I would even argue she's afraid about whatever happened, something about your memory?" He asks and leans his cheek in his hand. "She also wanted you to escape alone with your son. She didn't include herself with the escape plans. Isn’t that caring?"
"That's not what happened," I say, but he does have… a point. I know grandma cares, but she's still a jerk. I cradle my head and sigh into the mug between my legs. I have become my grandma. We're both jerks.
"Your world revolves around your family, but it seems you have trouble understanding how they feel. It's ironic."
A blood vessel pops on my temple at his words. A Zohra is telling me I don't understand feelings? If that isn't irony, what is?
"You're such an…" I let my words drift, and I sigh again. I really am a jerk.
Harwal huffs and pats the space between us, making me wobble in my weird position. "Say it."
"...asshole," I mumble, and he huffs again. At least he finds it amusing. "Why are you berating a human about emotions?"
"I have learned a lot about humans from Ava. It's difficult to see outside your own head. We all see things differently," he says. "Besides, you and your grandma are fighting about such an insignificant problem."
"In…insignificant?" I repeat and scowl at him. "The asshole who ruined my life is not an insignificant problem."
"I'm able to kill that 'asshole'. Don't worry about that," he says and nods. "You should focus more on the laboratory."
I snap my head up and look at him with new, clear eyes. "You can?"
Harwal looks at me like I said something surprising. "You… thought I couldn't?"
I… didn't think about the fact that he's with me. I feel just one moment of elation… but then I'm reminded of everything he told me about his past. I can't ask him to kill, no matter how much I think it's natural for them.
I avoid his eyes and instead stare at the half eaten pile of pastries. Harwal said he retired, that he wasn't proud of the things he had to do. Wouldn't I be asking for him to kill his own kind?
I scrunch my brow. I know what kind of a horrible person Kor is, and he deserves death more than anyone, but would Harwal really kill his own kind? I mean he offered, but… fuck why is hard to ask that from him?
Harwal isn't some random Zohra anymore. He's the saviour of my son, I owe everything to him. I couldn't ask him to kill for me. It's unbelievable how I feel this way. If he had offered this some other time I would've jumped to the occasion.
"You have that expression of useless thoughts again," he suddenly says. "What is it?"
I lay my head sideways on my knees so I can look at him. "I… don't like you."
Harwal tilts his head, and his big horn almost scrapes our wall. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No," I mumble, shaking my head. "You're making me doubt everything I believe every now and then. It's irritating."
"Tell me what I did wrong so I can improve myself."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Harwal," I mumble and rub my face. "I'm just overwhelmed by your generosity."
I'm honestly not okay. I'm starting to feel a little too comfortable around him. It's weirding me out. He has helped me so much with everything, and I haven't done anything to repay it. Even if he says stuff rudely, I can't really say anything against it cause he has been vexingly right about stuff.
And as a cherry on top, I'm concerned if I hurt him? What the hell is it? Am I sympathising because he shared his story and helped my son?
Harwal hums and places the mug back on the coffee table. "Harwal?" He says. "This is the first time you have referred to me. Why?"
I blink. "Is it?"
"It is. Is there a reason?"
Is there a problem now? I can't make sense if he's offended by it.
"I don't think so," I mumble and straighten to drink. "Oh, I should call you Cronus, right? Sorry."
"You can call me whatever you want." He taps his finger on his leg and hums again. "What shall I call you then? You seem to have more names than Zohra."
I snort on my mug and wince. "I… have reasons for it, but I guess you can call me… whichever name you want, but—"
"Sofia?" He says, which alarmingly does… something to me.
I stare, horrified, at him. For some cursed reason, hearing my real name coming out of his mouth makes me feel… warm? My cheeks heat up, and I clear my throat.
"I-it's actually probably better if you learn to call me Candy… a-as in Joddel that's how I'm known."
"I've heard you've been called Sofia here, more than Candy, but if that is your wish," he says slowly, oblivious about my dilemma. "Isn't candy a sweet that human Kits eat?"
I bite my lips together and let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, it's… it's a sweet treat, but kids aren't the only ones who eat them."
"A sweet treat?" Harwal says and huffs. "I can see why the name."
He didn't mean it that way. I don't think he meant it how it sounded, surely not. I bounce up from the sofa and smack my mug on the table, and escape towards grandma's room. "I'll go check on gran."
He definitely meant it as… as it fits my profession. God. I'm dumb. What else would it mean? I stomp to grandma's door, which is closed. I'm just stuck on this weird ass train of thought. He said I'd know if he was trying to flirt, right?
Jesus christ, I'm not considering him flirting, am I? That would be… scary? No, not scary. I'm a little horrified to realise that I'm not… as opposed to it as I thought. If I'm being objective about this it makes all the sense in the world that I'd warm up to him. It's just me being grateful.
That's all that it is.
I blow out a breath to calm myself, and remember he said Zohra flirt with touches. The disappointment that bubbles up shakes me to my core. I bulge my eyes at the door handle and quickly press my hand on it.
I stop as I hear a sniffle come through from the other side. Gran… is crying. I let go of the handle and stand by the door, listening to her short breaths and sniffles.
I'm not really sure what to do. The only time I remember she cried was when I came back after being sold.
"Stupid bitch," she mumbles inside and I roll my eyes. Never change gran.
I knock on the door and she blows her nose. "What? Stop being impatient."
"Can I come in?"
"No," she snaps. "Go entertain your guest and—"
I open the door, her baby powdery scent is all over her room. She sits on her flower printed bed and glares at me with red eyes and nose. "Can't I have even one moment for myself?"
She stuffs a napkin on her nose and I go to sit next to her, wrap my arms around her shoulders, and kiss her head. "I love you, gran. I'm sorry for my outburst."
"You better be," she says and dabs her nose more. "I don't want you to be in danger. I want you to be free of that demon."
"I know, and I want you to live a good life."
"I've lived a shit life," she mumbles and elbows my rib. "I lost my son, your father, and don't even mention these fucking aliens taking down my home and destroying everything I liked about this shithole," she rumbles angrily, but then softens her tone. "I don't want to lose my granddaughter too. No mother should live longer than their children, let alone grandchildren."
I hug her tighter, even though her bony elbow still stings on my ribs. "I won't die."
She jabs again and I tighten my hold. "Gran, that hurts."
"It better hurt," she grumbles, but starts to stroke my arm across her chest. "Please, run away…"
I shake my head against her head. "You know I can't do that."
She sighs heavily and jabs me one more time with her elbow, making me wince in pain.
"Ungrateful brat," she grumbles.
I chuckle through the pain and lean away from her. She gets up and digs out a box out of her old wooden cabinets. She grunts as she lifts it, and I try to help, but she grumbles at me as I try to get it for her.
"This is what I got on that bastard," she says and nods towards the door. "We should show your companion this as well."
I stiffen at the mention of Harwal and force myself to follow after her slow, shuffling steps as she carries the heavy box. But as we get to the living room, Harwal isn't there. Grandma doesn't seem to pay heed to the revelation, as she just starts unpacking the box to the coffee table.
I follow after her, but right at the intersection of the kitchen and living room, I bump into Harwal's side. He lifts his arm, holding a coffee mug, and stares down at me in confusion.
"I have never been unnoticed," he says after a moment of our staredown.
I open my mouth, only to let out a pathetic whine, rather than a 'sorry'.
He huffs and shakes his hunched head as he continues on his way to the sofa. I tug my fingers and try to calm my erratic heartbeat. It seems I'm still afraid of him. Who the hell wouldn't be? Good lord, he's too huge. I feel like a flea.
I drag my feet after him and try to go to the armchair, but grandma gives me such a nasty glare I relent and sit on the sofa.
"So here are his supposed movements," Grandma says and slaps a thick pile on the table. "And this is all the people he knows. These are possible purchases — slaves included…" She keeps reciting what the piles consist of as she keeps stacking the piles.
And there are… a lot. Huge amounts. No wonder Kor found out about me. There isn't anything grandma doesn't know about him.
"And here are pictures," Grandma finally says, holding the said photographs. She cradles them against her chest and looks at me with trepidation. "I know you have seen these, but your reaction was so strange… And you forgot all about it. I don't want this to become a reason to go find drugs again."
I stare at the stack on her hand and swallow. I remember that asshole's face like it was yesterday. I don't need to see the pictures. I don't need to… but what Grandma said yesterday worries me. She said I agreed that I remember him… wrong.