A whole week of excruciating loneliness passes by.
No Jaxon.
It's Thursday, July 5, 2018.
No longer June.
I've been going about my daily life the best that I can. Work. Morning sickness. Prepping for the baby. Forcing down enough calories for both of us despite my lack of appetite.
But, it's been so difficult without Jaxon.
How I've managed to get through even a week without him, I'll never know. Kyler's been calling me almost every day now, but I've been ignoring his calls. I know he'll just ask about Jaxon and I don't want to talk about him. It hurts too much. I can't even bear to say his name out loud.
I also can't bear the vacant spaces. In the house. Between my fingers. Within my heart. Every night, I clutch her mangled shreds, trying desperately to hold her together. To stitch her gaping holes. But it's no use. She continues to wither away in her coffin like a cold and decaying corpse and no amount of remedying seems to resurrect her.
I miss Jaxon.
I need him.
Our baby needs him.
I wish he could see that...
I keep hoping and praying he'll come to me. That he'll come after me. That he'll change his mind and love and accept our baby.
But he doesn't.
His gang is more important.
And now, I'm alone...
I clutch my stomach in agony as I curl up in my mom's spare bedroom and weep for the hundredth time since I've come here.
We are alone.
"Sweetie, will you go grab some green onions from the produce?" My mom asks me.
"Yeah." I shuffle to the vegetables with my head hung low. My mom just picked me up from work and we're now at The Downtown Supermarket in Queens, shopping for groceries. It's Friday, July 6, 2018. 8 days since Jaxon and I have been apart. 8 days of pure hell.
With arms that feel like heavy lead, I rip a produce bag from the plastic dispenser and begin filling it with stocks of green onion in a melancholy manner. A figure comes into view in my peripheral vision, but I don't pay much attention.
"Charlotte?"
Oh crap. I know that voice.
While covering my face with the bag of green onions, I attempt to make a brusque escape, but a restraining hand on my arm brings me to an abrupt halt.
"Charlotte? Why are you running away from me? And why haven't you been answering my calls??"
Giving in, I finally turn to face Kyler with shame in my eyes. He looks offended, concerned and perplexed all at once. "Charlotte? What's going on? What happened?"
I dodge his question. "What are you doing here in Queens?"
His expression brightens. "I have a date..."
Oh. "With who?"
"Chris... The guy Jaxon -"
The mere mention of Jaxon's name makes my knees buckle and Kyler swiftly seizes my arm to hold me up before I crumble to the ground. "Oh honey, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing."
"Nonsense. Something is wrong. Tell me. Did you 2 break up?"
A single, agonized tear forms on my bottom lashes and that's answer enough.
"Oh, you poor thing! Come here, honey!" Kyler envelopes me in his arms and squeezes me tight. "What happened?? You guys were so great together!"
"It's complicated."
"Come on. I'm your best friend. Tell me."
"Not here."
"Okay, then call me later."
I nod against his shoulder.
"Charlotte...? What's taking you - Oh Kyler! How are you, dear?" My mom exchanges a hug with Kyler. "What brings you to Queens?"
"I have a date."
"Oh, that's nice. Where is he? Is he here with you?"
"No, I was just on my way to his house. He lives in Queens. I was stopping to get some wine and ran into Charlotte."
"Oh! You must've heard the news then!"
"News?"
"Mom, please! Not -"
"Charlotte's pregnant!"
I face palm myself and Kyler's mortified expression says it all. His enormous bluish-grey eyes bore into me with complete and utter shock. "You're pregnant??"
"I - I really didn't wanna talk about it here..." My voice cracks. I shoot a "Thanks a lot," look at my mom and she returns a "Whoops, I'm sorry," look.
Kyler's expression softens. "Okay, we won't. Call me later, okay? We'll talk about it then."
I nod and the genuine concern in Kyler's eyes warms my decaying heart. He plants a soft kiss on my cheek. "Love ya, babe. Take care, okay?"
All I can manage is another nod and he takes off with a furrowed brow.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. It's just such good news, I -" My mom stops when she sees my head hung low once more. "Let's go home and make some dinner, okay?"
I nod glumly.
At midnight, I call Kyler.
He should be home by now.
He answers after the second ring. "Charlotte, honey!"
"Hey Kyler. How was your date with Chris?"
"So good! I think we really hit it off! We're going out again next weekend."
"That's great, Kyler! I'm so glad!"
"Enough about me, honey. Let's talk about you. What's this deal with you being pregnant? Is it really true?"
"Yeah..."
"And Jaxon's the father, I'm assuming?"
I cringe at the mention of his name. It hurts. "Yes..."
"So he broke up with you over that?? What an asshole!"
"No Kyler, I broke up with him..."
"What? Why??"
"Because he wants me to get an abortion. He doesn't want our baby..."
And apparently his gang is more important than both of us, but I can't tell Kyler that.
I can't tell anyone.
I don't want to hurt Jaxon.
I love him.
"Why doesn't he want the baby?"
"It's complicated."
"Oh come on, honey. Tell me all the details."
"Kyler, I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not my place to tell."
"Are you hiding something?"
"No, of course not."
Yes!
"Charlotte, stop lying to me."
"I'm not!"
"You are definitely lying and I'm going to find out the truth."
"Please, just drop it. We're through, okay? If he doesn't want our baby, then I can't be with him."
"Oh honey, I'm so sorry. Hang in there, okay? Call me tomorrow. Let's go out on the town. You definitely need a pick me up."
"Okay."
"Get some beauty sleep, okay? Love ya babe!" He smacks his lips into the phone.
"Love you too."
There's a light and cautious tap on Jaxon's bedroom door.
"Jaxon?" Khleo asks warily.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Khleo flinches at Jaxon's yelling. "What is he gonna do? Lock himself in there for eternity?" He mutters under his breath before retreating down the hall.
Jaxon is scrunched up on his bed in the fetal position, staring at a blank text on his phone under the contact name: Charlotte. He slowly types out a sentence.
I miss you...
He deletes the words in an instant.
I need you...
He erases those words as well.
Can we talk?
Again, the text is deleted.
You really don't wanna put the baby up for adoption?
That text is deleted too.
Please, come back Charlotte. I really do love you. Please, try to understand where I'm coming from. I'm a murderous gang leader. A monster. I can't be a father...
Without hitting send, Jaxon chucks his phone against the wall and it shatters to plastic rubble, joining the array of debris that is still littering the floor from his last emotional storm.
He begins to weep. For hours. Until, finally, he falls into a tormented sleep. That same dark, hooded figure creeps up the balcony and into Jaxon's room. He lurks in the corner, hidden in darkness, watching with sinister satisfaction as his prey tosses about in unconsciousness.
It's 10:00 PM, November 31, 2002. It's snowing outside.
My mom just came home from her secret night job with a surprise. 2 plane tickets to Jinhae-gu, South Korea. Her childhood home. She says it's to see the cherry blossoms that will start blooming in March, but I know the real reason. She only bought 2 tickets...And they're one way...
She hands me a small branch that was picked off of a cherry blossom tree and is covered in light pink blossoms. "Hold onto this until we get there," she instructs me in Korean. "We will be there and looking at cherry blossoms before you know it."
"The cherry blossoms have died, mom. Where did you get these?"
"Don't worry about it," she winks at me. "I did a little something to preserve that branch. Now, hurry and pack your things. Our plane leaves soon."
"Okay, mom."
Rushing into my cramped and dingy room, I begin shoving all my clothes and belongings into my school backpack. I know we need to pack fast and that we're not coming back. I clutch onto the cherry blossom branch in my left hand while I pack. I can't seem to let it go. The hope that it represents...
When I've finished packing what little I own, the front door creaks open and an icy cold wind blows into the apartment.
Oh no.
He's here.
"EUNHYE!"
The apartment is as silent as death.
In a panic, I shove my backpack under my bed and jump on top to pretend I'm asleep.
He continues to yell in Korean. "EUNHYE! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? I NEED MY PLAY TOY! NOW!"
He's extremely drunk. As usual...
I pray that my mom found a good hiding place this time.
Please, don't find her...
Please, don't find her...
Please, don't find her...
The door to my bedroom smashes into the wall and my heaving, drunk father towers over the threshold. "Where's your mother???"
I stir slightly and yawn as if I'm just waking up. "I think she's still at work... I never heard her come home..."
"DON'T LIE TO ME!"
"I'm not!"
"I swear, if that slut is here hiding somewhere, she's dead!"
I gulp.
Please, please, please, don't find her.
He staggers into the kitchen. "YOU HEAR THAT, YOU WORTHLESS WHORE?? IF I FIND YOU HIDING FROM ME AGAIN, YOU'RE DEAD!"
There's a loud ruckus of banging and fumbling before my parents' bedroom door creaks open. I hold my breath in fear for my mother's life.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS??"
Oh no. Oh please, no.
"WHERE ARE YOU EUNHYE??? AND WHY IS THERE A BAG OF YOUR CLOTHES ON THE FLOOR??? WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING???"
Oh no.
Please, don't find her...
Please, don't find her...
Please, don't find her...
I cringe with each reverberating bang of rustled furniture, my heart reverberating simultaneously with dread.
And then I hear my mother's blood curdling scream.
"I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WERE HIDING FROM ME! WHAT'S IN YOUR HAND???"
"Please Jaekyung! Not now! Please!"
"PLANE TICKETS??? YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN AWAY FROM ME???"
A cochlear-slicing snap seizes the tense air by the throat and my mother's agonized screams infiltrate our tiny apartment.
"SHUT UP, YOU FILTHY SLUT!"
He's hurting her again.
Springing from my bed while holding to the cherry blossom branch as tightly as I can, I bolt into my parents' bedroom just as my dad is rummaging through the closet. There's blood covering my mom and the floor and she's bracing herself against the wall, crying. Her tormented orbs widen with horror at the sight of me. "No Jaxon!" She pleads between muffled sobs. "Get out of here! Leave! Now!"
"No. I'm not leaving you, mom." And for the first time in my 10 years of life, I throw my body in front of hers as a protective shield, knowing that my dad could kill me.
"Jaxon, baby! Please, don't -"
My father's scornful laughter cuts her off. "Well, would you look at that. The little dunce thinks he can protect his Mommy..."
I hear the click of a cocked gun. "GET OUTTA THE WAY OR I'LL SHOOT YOU!"
I gulp.
"Jaxon, please move!" My mom begs in a hushed whisper. "I don't want him hurting my baby! Let him hurt me in -"
"No! I'm not moving! I'm not gonna let him hurt you anymore!"
"You asked for it..."
A mind-shattering shot claws through the air followed by an excruciating impact that tears through the flesh on my lower back like a ravenous beast. My desperate fingers can't hold the cherry blossom branch any longer and it falls into a pool of blood on the carpet, it's velvet, light pink petals now spattered with splotches of red. Flames of pure hell rip through every nerve in my body.
I've officially entered the fiery gates of Satan's kingdom, but somehow, I manage to hold onto consciousness.
"GET OFF OF HER SO I CAN BLOW HER HEAD OFF!"
"NO!"
That same wretched sound and impact claws through the air and then my tender flesh a second time.
I lose the fight.
My world goes black.
Darkness engulfs me.
I fall to the ground.
Then a succession of horrid bullets.
My mom's frantic screams.
And silence.
As silent as death.
I desperately struggle and fight through the darkness and eventually open my eyes to find my mom's lifeless form lying next to me on the floor and the most morbidly grotesque sight where her face used to be.
A thundering tsunami of pure rage and hatred tumults through the air and it takes me a minute to realize the sound is coming from my own throat. "YOU KILLED HER!"
With a powerful surge of adrenaline and absolute hatred as my fuel, I charge at my dad like the warriors of Armageddon and pin him to the ground in seconds. I rip the pistol from his hands and fire it off again and again until the barrel is empty and he's nothing but a morbidly grotesque mess like my mom.
I drop the bloody pistol with shaky hands.
What have I done...
What have I done?
What have I done??
"Daddy?" A little boy's voice seizes my attention.
What?
I spin around to see what appears to be my 10 year old self staring back at me with curious ebony eyes. I glance down at my body and I'm suddenly a 26-year-old again, straddling my now dead father.
"Daddy?" The boy asks again.
Lifting my eyes to look at him, I watch in horror as he stoops down to pick up the blood spattered pistol from the floor. "I wanna play with guns too. Like you, Daddy..."
Jaxon thrashes into consciousness, gasping for air and trembling with tortured tears. It's 3:00 AM, Saturday, July 7, 2018. The air is thick with a dark presence, but the dark, hooded figure is gone. Jaxon doesn't go back to sleep. He can't.
"Charlotte..." He sobs. "I wish you were here..."