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pauking5 · 6 months ago

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Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 2 🏁

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, spice

Word count: 13.1k+

A/N: Chapter 2 already? Hope you're enjoying it so far. I spoiled you with this one ;) Things are slowly getting heated, both racing wise and a little up close and personal this time around. I'm rallying behind what's hopefully my last uni work this week so hope this one's good. Enjoy lovelies.

Raiko's Playlist: Monster - A7S with Alok, Locked out of Heaven - Bruno Mars, Youngblood - R3HAB Remix, Greedy - Tate McRae, Ocean Drive - Duke Dumont, Into You - 3LAU Remix, She Doesn't Mind - Krmoni, Something On My Mind - Purple Disco Machine & Duke Dumont & Nothing But Thieves, Bad Boy - Chungha & Christopher, React - Pussycat Dolls

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Day 2 of Tour de Tokai

"Rai, take it easy," said Tanaka worriedly over the coms. "The new suspensions will break if you push them too hard."

You would happily take it easy peasy lemon squeezy if the road wasn't turning the car into a fucking death trap, going at over 100 kilometers per hour on the most difficult and curved track in the world.

Any miscalculated sway of the wheel could project you into the ditch at the side of the road, kissing goodbye to any chance of completing this stage. Which unfortunately did happen in the first one this morning.

That bold black lettering spelling out DNF next to your name on the scoreboard was not what you expected after bagging third place on the first day. Bitter wasn't even close to describing how you felt. Sour, dejected, with an ever-growing pit of disgust for this tour sounded more like it.

Frankly, it wasn't even supposed to happen. It was a rookie mistake. One that cost you a bunch of points.

At one turn, halfway through the race, your car hit a rocky mound neither you or Tanaka saw in the pre-race drive. An anomaly that birthed itself from thin air most likely. Coming towards it at full speed with no time to break and avoid it, the car slid over it scratching a big part of the chassis by the loud screech drilling in your ears and the lower back bumper, sending your rear right into a deep ditch.

You revved the engine multiple times to get it out and back on the road but the car simply refused to work with you, wheels spinning in the gravel underneath uselessly keeping the car suspended. You were towed out by the marshals, driving back to the station in shame after hogging up at least ten minutes off everyone else's stage time. The rest of the drivers scowled at you, angrily waving you off the road to get to the start line. Being called a rookie in insult after that and not something else was actually a compliment.

Tour de Tokai was spread out so unevenly and it bugged you beyond prevail because it put insane pressure on the car that was barely out of the factory still. With new components too.

The first day had one long stage over 40 km but it was a full paved track, much more easier to take on, hence the good result you had yesterday. Today on the other hand, consisted of three awful stages around a mix of tarmac and off-road dirt tracks in the depths of the valley, over shorter distances but challenging on every part of the car. You already screwed up one of them in one of the more rougher patches of terrain. It was out of the way. But at what cost? At the cost of my cheerios being spilt on the floor this morning. That's what.

Thankfully, you only had two more stages left for the day. Then the final two tomorrow. If your car managed to stay in one piece until then. Tough life out here.

You were currently on the second stage, driving down a dirt road just like the one that put you out of the race. Tight, soliciting and full of chicanes. You tried your hardest to keep the car on the road this time.

Half of the smooth grey asphalt already ended, leading into a curved forest path, sheltered entirely by dense pine trees on each side. The early afternoon sun peaked out through the branches, blinding you even through the laminated flaps on your visor, further adding to your irritation.

"4 left 50," spoke your co-driver, usually steady voice broken by the jolting path.

Medium corner in 50 meters. A little breather.

"2 right very tight over crest," he shouted, hand shooting up to the safety handle as you ran over a bump.

Very tight corner over the hill.

You accelerated up the hill, going airborne for a few meters before the car landed back down on the ground with a jarring wobble shaking you in your seat.

"1 left 100."

100 meters running up to the tightest corner.

A hairpin section in this hellhole after two taxing corners that pulled the car sideways brutally. Just what you needed. This was a no go drifting portion. The desire to go wide was so overpowering, but you couldn't push the limit. If you went the slightest into understeering the car, it was game over again. Another DNF. More points lost and even more damage on the car the current fund couldn't cover until you did some promotions.

Come on, honey, you rubbed the steering wheel in support, trying to get the car to listen to you. Stay with me. We're almost there.

Sure enough the dreaded hairpin section came into view faster than you could prepare for it. Up ahead, the road dove into lower ground to the right - a sharp C turn - harbored by a high hill lifting into greenery on one side and an excavated one that curled above the road with a few public stands on the other.

You cut the gas and tapped the brake just when you entered the slight curve of the curb, tyres skidding over the coarse gravel. It was tight as hell.

The forces of the momentum you gained on the straight portion pre-corner shoved you back in the seat so harsh you felt that turn with your whole body. Your forearms shook trying to keep control of the wheel in your hands, heaving breaths like crazy. Don Tanaka got squished to the door, belts working overtime to keep you both strapped safely. Your boot pressed to the floor with all your might to keep it near the pedals, rear at the back lifting up in the air.

Exiting the curve, you turned the wheel straight cueing the throttle back in way too fast. The tyres screeched horribly loud behind the car as you lost grip of the road.

"Fuck!"

The car took every incoming bump jerking you in all sides while you grappled with keeping it on course. You were going way too fast on wild ground, untouched by cement. You had to slow down. It would inevitably add more time to your lap that you can't make up anywhere on the rest of the course, but at least you wouldn't crash into a hill at 100 kmph or flip over in an area that was too inaccessible for marshals to come get you. You couldn't risk it.

Fuck this.

It wasn't up to debate. You let the throttle loose. A quick glance at your speedometer and your anxiety was quickly replaced by anger at seeing the speed decrease - 90, 80, 70 kmph. Way too slow. The heaps of bumps and craters scattered to smaller mounds, still threatening your safety, but they were manageable now.

Seething with burning rage, you let the speed decrease till it got to 50 finally gaining back full control of the car, then amped up the speed again, pressing the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roared alive under the hood, pumping fuel like a beast as it propelled you forwards at breakneck speed.

Now we're talking, baby.

"5 right 200 very long."

Easy wide corner in 200 meters.

You had some time to catch up there. Hitting the throttle again to increasing the speed even more you took it like a pro, drifting over the last off-road patch, sliding back on the straight asphalt. The crowd in the stands stood up, cheering loudly over the roar of the engine as you took the straight fast like lightning.

"Last one. 6 left 50. Flat out."

Flat corner in 50 meters. Take it fast Rai. Bring it home.

Taking the corner with a wide drift, the car finally reacted the way you wanted it to for once, gripping the road nicely. You gained an extra 20 on the exit, cutting off at least half a second on your lap time. If that even made up for the rest of the time you lost in those shitty corners.

The cheers got louder than the music booming over the speakers, crowds getting smoked by the dust you raised up in the air with that last drift. Before you knew it, it was all done. This stage anyways.

Who even picked this course? I hope they slip and fall in the toilet every time they go for a wee for the rest of the race weekend.

Driving back to the station, you parked the car neatly in place. Unfastening all the belts to ply your body away from the seat, you slumped against the wheel with eyes closed, letting out a long heavy breath you've been holding in for a while. The adrenaline in your body plummeted so fast it left you panting like you ran a marathon, trying to catch your breath and let out some built-up steam.

That was so nerve-wracking. No amount of training or racing over and over again would prepare you for the obstacles that can just jump at you out of nowhere. Obstacles that can very well end your career that barely even started.

Thanks to your quick reaction time, you avoided a lot of road hazards that could've sent you and Tanaka in flimsy hospital gowns. You did get control of the situation before it was too late, which was great. But some of those calls were way too close for your liking. So, so close.

"Hey," Tanaka piped up, gloved hand patting your back gently. You turned your still helmet-encased head at him. "You did good out there. Others would've let it crash in the side and pay for the damages, but you redressed the car back on track. It takes a lot to pull that off."

You pulled off the helmet, running a hand through your hair in frustration. You did almost crash. But you saved it. Because you had more stages left and no back up car for it. Because your father put way too much money into it to let it smash to pieces and pay for the damages. Because your co-driver's life was in your hands just like yours for that matter. There were so many reasons why you tried so hard to save it. Though none of them calmed that worry in the pit of your stomach that it could've been so much worse.

But you were a driver. Things like these were part of the job description. You can move on for a while but they'll always haunt you.

"Come on," he took your helmet. "Let's go see the scoreboard."

"I'd rather not," you smiled apologetically. "I'll go get some food. I could eat a week's worth of steak right now."

You were hungry as hell. But getting out of the car and away from the track for a bit was more of a priority and you hoped Tanaka would see past it. A therapy session about why shit happens sometimes was not what you needed right now.

"Okay," he chuckled. "Let me know if you need anything, lightning strike. I'll be around."

"Yeah," you nodded quietly more to yourself.

You got out of the car, passing a few smiles in sympathy to the team that got working on replacing the back bumper right away. Some of them patted your back in the same supportive manner.

On your way out of the station you passed by the screen displaying the scoreboard. You tried your hardest not to stop by but your eyes just fleeted there in curiosity. A curiosity that was left better unsatisfied.

Rai Suruki - 12th place - 1.53.07. Out of twenty. Not too bad all things considered.

Dwelling on it for a bit you tried to let it go. At least you weren't in the shoes of the one unlucky driver that ended up with a DNF at the bottom. Poor bastard- Wait. Getting closer to the screen to make sure your eyes didn't betray you, you read the line again in shock.

Naozumi Hiyama - 20th place - DNF.

Before it even registered in your head, the screen changed to replay the scenes right before disaster. You watched the distinctive blue hues on his car whizz by as he got past the first corners like an expert, lap time near perfect midway through the race. Until he drove into the tight corner that nearly broke your car in half. He took it just like you did, tight and miscalculated, unaware of the chaos on the other side.

What happened to you happened to him too - he lost grip on the back, taking on the uneven rocky bumps at full speed. All that knowledge of rally was thrown out the window in seconds as he struggled to keep the car under control. Then something even weirder happened - fumes leaped out from under the hood. Engine failure.

Instead of slowing down to prevent a crash and the engine from overheating more, he accelerated, hellbent on keeping the few points he gathered so far. What the hell was he thinking? The front tyres of his car took a high mound that sent him airborne landing right in the deep channel of the next corner, smashing the front into a hill portion. Nope, he wasn't thinking. That right there is idiocy.

The angry screech of tyres in the station next to yours sparked your attention. You peeked your head in at the side, bending over a tool table watching the chaos unfold. The front bumper cover was smashed into the car, like it just swallowed it up, along with a big part of the hood. Mechanics rushed over, struggling to get the hood open and cool the engine sending smoke through the broken cracks. Other staff ran around with fire extinguishers just in case the car caught fire.

Those were replaceable, already at the ready by the side. What wasn't replaceable was Naozumi's impending wrath about to rain down on the team like metal pikes.

Naozumi got out of the car boiling with fury, throwing his helmet off into the seat, smashing the door shut making the whole car shake at the impact. You looked back with pity at your little blue and gold princess, muttering I would never do that to you. Turning back, you caught him running an angry hand through the mess of his helmet hair, closing in fast on the same man he had a scuffle with just yesterday.

"Care to explain why I got an engine failure mid-race of all times?" he shouted at the mechanic, tongue pushing his cheek impatiently. He didn't really look like he expected an answer, simply wanting to vent off his own mistake.

"I told you not to push it. Not my fault you're too hardheaded to understand simple directions," he shouted back, having had enough of his tantrums.

"There's one more stage left today. If this happens again I will make sure-"

He struck a nerve with that unfinished sentence, making the taller man drop what looked like a new water pump for the engine right on top of the tool box with a loud clatter.

"Make sure of what exactly, your highness? Throwing me off the team? That didn't work the last time you tried, did it?"

Naozumi clicked his jaw and glared at him with all his pent up rage before he stormed off to his trailer to cool down. He didn't give a shit about the looks the people around fixed on him, and they didn't dwell for too long either, everyone scattering back to their jobs.

Seems like no one was taking today that well.

Padding around the vans lined up with all kinds of fast-food only dimmed your appetite. The good ones were closed for a break until the last race, which was in an hour. Your body needed the food so bad, you were willing to drive to a restaurant in the city, which was like two hours away. If only you had time.

Ready to give up, you spotted a nice looking bacon and ham sandwich at a shabby stand just on the side of the food court. Scouring over their window from a distance, it looked like the last one. Better than going back on an empty stomach.

You jogged up to order before anyone else could. Too engrossed in reaching the till you failed to notice someone slide in before you. Too late to pull the breaks, you collided into a hard shoulder, nearly losing your footing and falling face first on the ground. Strong hands gripped your upper arms to keep you upright just like you caught theirs in return.

Looking up, your quick apology got stuck in your throat. Two round chocolate balls gazed down at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. Those eyes could put chocolate to shame, glowing like priceless pralines, the special kind you eat once a year on Christmas.

Dark brown hair framed the side of his face, matted in messy waves. A pair of black sunglasses sat on top of it, pushing the front locks into small curls. Trailing your eyes downwards, you were greeted by two moles on the side of his face, right under his lower lip, stamped like two mini vampire bites. Cute. White fireproofs in darker logos stretched over his broad chest, complimenting his tan complexion so well. You were grateful for the strong hands that held your arms in a firm grip since your knees went a little weak.

Otherworldly was the only word you could find in the empty sea of your mind to describe this man. And not even that one did him justice. Not even close.

He seemed just as entranced by you, trained on your face for a while then swiping down your racing suit that was still done up to your neck, preserving all the heat of your previous ride as well as pulling the outside heatwave into it, turning into a body sauna. Or was it all coming from him? You couldn't tell.

His warm eyes searched your face with concern.

"Are you okay?"

Even his voice is beautiful.

"Huh? Me? Yeah, yeah. I'm good," you finally straightened letting go of him. "Are you uhh... good?"

"I'm good," he said, his palms loosening on you until they slid down, away from you.

"Good."

Placing your hair behind your ears out of nervous habit, you looked back at him, finding a smile so sweet on his face it could give you a sugar rush if you stared too long. Dear heavens.

"I don't think we've met before," he started extending a polite hand to you, smile fully popping with dimples now even though those moles on his chin eclipsed them fully. "I'm-"

"Akira Shinkai," you cut him off breathless, grabbing his hand in excitement. "You've been in Sigma Academy. You're also the youngest of the junior series that got picked to drive at a top team and you hold countless records on track. You're a legend," you said all of that in one breath.

His head dipped, ears going the smallest tint of pink, as did your cheeks at the realization that you were kind of fangirling over him big time. Who wouldn't if they had the chance to stumble upon rally royalty? Dad doesn't count. He's expired already.

"And you're Rai Suruki."

He knows my name.

"I saw your stage back there," he added.

All your excitement washed away at the mention of your near fuck up of a race.

"Yeah," you rubbed the back of your neck. "It wasn't my best."

"Are you joking?!" His chocolate orbs widened at you like you said something wrong. "That was some badass understeer maneuvering if I've ever seen any. You're the legend here."

Oh. That was unexpected. Getting complimented by one of the current best drivers in rally racing like you didn't step into the car just yesterday. It got your heart thundering in your chest, rising the blood to your cheeks once again.

"T-thank you," you cleared your throat looking away. "You did great too," you hit back remembering his insane lap time on the board. His smile only deepened at that.

"They do have some good sandwiches here," he pointed at the van behind you. By the looks of it, he was a regular at the stand. Even the older lady at the till gave him a smile in recognition that he reciprocated just as warmly.

"Too bad they only have one left," you sighed defeated, looking back at the lone sandwich.

"You can have it," he urged.

"No, I'm good," you waved him off. "I was craving something else anyway."

"You sure?" he quipped an eyebrow, not really buying your retreat.

Well, you did bump into him almost decking him over to buy it. Looking back and forth between his brown eyes and the deliciously packed sandwich on the other side of the glass window, bacon and salad leaves hanging so appetizing on the side of the bread, you nodded.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

No, you weren't sure. You were far from sure. But you weren't about to have the who gets the sandwich dispute. Passing him one last smile and another speedy apology for bumping into him, you walked off with your tail between your legs before he could argue.

That looked like the best sandwich on earth. Everything looks delicious to you when you're hungry, Rai. Well yeah, but that one might've tasted heavenly. Too late now.

You roved around the rest of the stands, trying not to breathe in too much of the smell of barbecued meat and fries and salad and all the delicacies that could be in your stomach already but lingered in the air instead. The other stalls at the end of the food court had insane long queues or no food available yet since they were still cooking the late batches.

I'll have more luck in the forest at this point.

A hand grabbed your arm out of nowhere. You were about to sucker punch its owner when you came face to face with Akira once more. He ducked out of the way and caught your fist before it could plant itself in his face.

"What-"

He held up the large bacon and ham sandwich between you as a sign of peace. "This sandwich is way too big for me to eat alone. Wanna share with me?"

"Are you sure? I don't wanna steal your lunch." You lowered your fist down. "We barely get to eat as is."

"Which is why you should have some before we're called back," he pushed it to you again, hopeful that you would accept his friendly offer. Before you could even debate it, your stomach grumbled loudly making him laugh. "I guess that settles it."

"Fine," you gave in.

You found a table off the radar just at the edge of the food court, beside a luscious green patch of dense forest, away from perpetrators like the press or the crew. Birds chirped around in the trees, sun shining so bright you were glad for the umbrella above. It was a little corner of quiet in the chaos. Akira sat down opposite you, pulling out a cup filled with fries to the brim out of thin air.

"Where'd you nick that from?"

"A fan gave it to me."

That must happen quite a lot if he just willingly accepted stuff. Was he sure it's not poisoned or something? Your stomach rumbled again in need of fuel. Ah well, might as well die by eating french fries.

Splitting the sandwich in half, you knocked the halves together like a toast and dove in. The soft baguette melted into your mouth along with the perfectly greased bacon, the squishy ham and the rest of the salad leaves and round tomato slices. It even had a nice sauce on the inside. He was right. They do make some mean sandwiches.

Shimmying out of your suit to cool off, you were left in your fireproofs, letting the breeze card through your hair, enjoying the food in sheer delight. The adrenaline rush came and went so fast back there on track that it took most of your energy with it. Filling up with food was the only way to restore it and if it was good food, you were guaranteed to get it all back quicker.

"This sandwich is so good," you mumbled with your mouth full.

"I told you," he mused through big bites of his own.

"Yeah, you did," you chuckled.

You both finished the food and sat in a comforting silence. Drawing random patterns in the wooden table, you felt this sudden need to find out more about the man before you. Though you weren't sure what to even ask since most of his information was out there thanks to his fangirls. By god, you weren't one of them, but you did know a lot about him. Okay, maybe more than a normal person should know about him, but alas.

Just when you mustered up a question he beat you to it.

"Have you been racing for long?"

"For about 8 years now. Started with karting, made my way through the juniors for a bit and some lower series and now I'm here."

"I bet it's nice having someone like your dad support you in it." He looked down at the scrunched up sandwich wrapper in his hands, passing it from one to the other with something akin to bitterness in his eyes that went away as quick as it came.

"It is," you nodded with a meek smile. "Most of the time anyway. It's hard trying to revive a dead team after so long but I'm trying my best."

"Are you trying for yourself or for him?"

That was a damn good question. You never thought about it in depth before. You jumped up at the thought of finally being helpful with something that you and your dad both loved with a strong passion. But was it for him, to make him forget the pain and move on from the past? Or was it for you and ensuring you had some kind of a better future doing something you loved? Beats me.

"I think maybe a bit of both?" you said, unsure of which one weighed more or less than the other.

"Eh, it doesn't really matter," he said softly leaning back to stretch his shoulders. "You've been here for two days and you're already showing results others would dream of having so early in their career. Give yourself some credit," he ended with a knock on the wooden table, pointing back at you.

You stared at him in awe. He really was so well-spoken. That and the fact he glowed like an angel with a missing halo above his head. Or maybe it was the afternoon sun shining warmly over him.

"Thanks," you replied sheepishly. "What about you? Why does Akira Shinkai race?"

He smiled looking at the ground and sat thinking for a while. You just looked at him soaking even more of his calm presence in. His chin laid on top of his palm, eyes peering off in the distance like you just asked him what he had for breakfast Wednesday last week. Then his eyes suddenly lit up.

"I want to become someone people look up to. I've always liked cars of all kinds and the minute I sat down in a go-kart I just knew I wanted to race. I guess I kinda wanted to feel that thrill on a daily basis," he chuckled at which you laughed a little too.

"Sureeeee, 'cause going at lightning speed on some of the most dangerous roads known to men multiple times a day is everyone's dream when they get in bed at night."

"Maybe it is. Who are we to judge?" he lifted his hands up in surrender making you laugh some more.

On the way back to the station, you both talked some more. About your hopes and dreams, your families, and the rest of the stages left. You both cursed the damn track that nearly totaled your cars and found out you had a lot in common. Behind that idol-like presences in the media, he was actually a very laid-back guy.

Coming up to your pen, he smiled warmly at you once more. That sweet, honey-dripping, serotonin-inducing smile. Talking to him put you in such good vibes that you forgot all about what made you upset before. Until you felt the energies shift for the negative at your back.

Whirling around, you came face to face with Naozumi. He seemed a tad bit calmer than before when he used his mechanic as an emotional punching bag, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Spotting you, he threw that unnerving shit-eating grin on his face sending it your way with a small wave. All your good spirits warded off at the gesture.

You abstained from throwing him a middle finger in response settling on a scowl. Then his eyes went to your lunch companion, throwing him a way more conceited smile. Akira stiffened beside you for a moment, zeroing in on the other driver, before he turned back to you in a haste like he was suddenly in a rush.

"Good luck out there."

"You too."

"See you around," he bid you goodbye, regarding Naozumi with another loaded look before he went on his way.

You lingered by the team banner, watching his back retreat farther in the distance before it disappeared into his team's red and black pen at the end of the paddock lines. At least one of these men knew how to politely introduce themselves.

Spinning back, you caught Naozumi still behind you simply watching you with some kind of assertiveness that pushed your buttons. You wanted to ask if he needed help finding respect and manners when he just walked off to his own pen. Weird.

Walking to your car, you came face to face with Don Tanaka's sharp stare. What is it with men and staring today? His foot tapped the cement so fast you were sure it could drill a hole to the other end of the planet if he amped the speed just a tiny bit. It was the kind of staredown you get after going to a party with the popular clique, getting home past your curfew. The one that also meant your pocket money would cease their presence in your wallet for a month.

"What?" you gulped out, confused at being received so warmly.

"Why are you fraternising with the enemies?"

"Enemies?" you paused, even more dumbfounded. "I'm not following."

"Naozumi Hiyama and Akira Shinkai," he shook his head in disappointment. "Do I need to remind you we don't need press to jump on us and that your father kinda has a bad history with their teams?"

"Whoa, hold on. Rewind the CD. What do you mean by bad history?"

He walked you off to the deserted lounge area by the pen, making sure you were alone. In all the years you've known him, you've never once seen him this stressed. The man was a trainer. If anything, he was the stress.

"Sigma Racing's team principal used to race your father back in the day. They used to be sort of best friends, if we put it that way."

"What happened?"

"Once they got past the junior series, they both went after the same team and your father got picked instead of him. It all turned really sour between them after that."

"How sour are we talking?" you interjected. "Like gooseberries or those really sour gummy jellies that you choke on when the sugar bits get stuck in your throat?" He threw you a look asking for more seriousness. "Okay, continue."

"Sour in the sense that he tried to sabotage your dad every chance he got. Be it in racing or life itself. He never liked seeing him so successful, always living in the shadows of the second place on the podium, with his own racing, with his team, even with business. Being second to everything your father did got to him in the worst ways. Your father didn't even mean it to be that way."

"He tried to make amends, didn't he?"

Knowing your father he probably tried to mend that crack in their friendship until there was no more glue left in the world to put the pieces back together.

"Every chance he got. They were so close it was hard to even watch it fall apart from the sidelines."

Sounds like dad.

Rewinding back to the whole enemies part, you failed to see where Akira and Naozumi stood in this story.

"But Akira isn't related to that guy," you pointed out. "He just drives under him."

"Yes, but Sigma Racing didn't become one of the top teams in Japanese rally through genuine hard work," he sighed heavily. "A lot of people are unaware of this because they hid it well," he leaned in closer, warily looking left and right before continuing, "but they pulled a lot of strings to get to where they are today. Some of them not through the finest approaches."

You wouldn't question that information since Tanaka worked as a trainer for them for a while. But you did wonder just how much dirt he had on them. But that was a rabbit hole to dive into another day.

Okay, so Sigma Racing was red flagged before you even looked their way. Thankfully, no one knew you tried out as a ghost driver for them about a year ago or it would raise a scandal that would send your father to the intensive care unit. Throwing that to the side you went to the other walking red flag deemed as an enemy.

"What about Naozumi?"

"Well, not Naozumi directly, but Tsuzuki, Spica Racing's director. He used to be a shareholder in Suruki Racing before the team fell apart. He was your father's biggest sponsor, providing most of the parts for the cars. One day, right before chaos started raining down on the team, he retracted all his support just like that," he snapped his fingers, "out of nowhere."

"Without a notice?"

He shook his head. "None. He cut down all ties with your father without a solid reason."

"Okay, but Naozumi and Akira don't seem to have anything to do with this mess. It seems like more of an old generation battle we don't want to be part of."

"I really hope you won't get dragged into this mess," he rubbed the edges of his moustache. Something he did when he was really worried. "What I mean with all this is that I just want you to keep an eye out. Rally racing is a dirty world. You never know who's out to get you."

Great. Now I have to watch out for every breathing soul around me. Never a dull moment here.

A loud voice boomed over the surrounding speakers around the paddock, announcing that the next and last stage of the day starts in half an hour.

"Let's get you ready."

The last stage of the day went better than you expected it to. The course was a full tarmac one this time with really wide corners. You only had to look out for dips beside it where your rear could slip and get pinched, and the dangerous sharp corners where the crowds loved to gather like sacrificial lambs. The car held a lot better too, gripping the road firmly on all turns.

Without further damage on the car, you finished fifth this time around, sandwiched in between Akira and Naozumi on the scoreboard. The latter had another mishap in a turn nearly ending up in a ditch again. There were fumes coming out of his ears rather than the engine when he got out of the car, ready to throttle anyone in his way, but at least it wasn't another DNF to shatter some more of his pride.

Surprisingly, your father plied himself away from the office headquarters in the hotel and came down to the station to congratulate the team on their efforts. You waited at the end of the line, watching as he smiled and patted everyone's shoulders for the good work. When he came to you, he stopped, smile slightly falling around the edges.

You had a hot and cold relationship with him. Most times it was the latter, cutting icy through the days when you were in the car. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a squeeze in support then turned back to everyone. That was as much as you'd get for now.

"I know you all must be tired," he started, taking in the sullen faces around the pen. "But our official car show is on later tonight in the hotel events hall. Go rest, dress up and come have a drink on the house."

That damn car show. You would rather be anywhere else than interacting with more people. You kind of had your social battery drained out for the rest of the day and it was barely 5 pm. But you had to be there for your father and the team.

Shortly after, the team dispersed to each their own. You trudged back to the hotel and had a well-deserved relaxing shower, washing off the fumes and sweat. When you came out, you were met with a dozen shiny designer bags all over the floor and your bed, together with your extremely stressed PR Agent.

Kate Yuzumi, or Yuzu (how you called her when she became a stress ball about to explode into pieces), has been in charge of your press-related endeavours for as long as you've been racing. She lived a huge chunk of her life in the States, before her parents returned back with her in tow. Now in her late 20s, she worked under your father, managing every little detail about your public image. She was also your only female friend in an overtly masculine rally world, just like you were hers.

She was the best at her job. A lioness in the wild jungle occupied by so many tigers. But there were times where she let it eat at her sanity, like now for example. She ran a mad hand through her long amber hair, messing around the soft caramel highlights on top as she paced your hotel suite from corner to corner, scribbling down in her notebook in a very frustrating manner. One harder press of that ball point pen and she would put a hole through the lined paper.

You cleared your throat announcing your presence. She whirled around to you, eyes blazing in a frenzy.

"Finally, you're out," she breathed out in relief. "Any longer and I would've called reception to cut down the water supply in your room."

"Really funny," you narrowed your eyes at her. "What's with all this?" you nodded at the endless heaps of bags littered around the room. You walked to one of the closest bags, decked in baby pink and paper ruffles, digging your hand through it to pull out a shimmery black dress.

"You need to look your best tonight. It's the first car show the team is having in years and your father insisted you dress accordingly."

You let the material slip out of your hands with a disgusted look on your face. One that she caught right away.

"No sulking or trying to evade it, Rai." She came up to you and placed both of her hands on your shoulders. "You're the only driver Suruki Racing has. You represent the team and you need to be there tonight, as boring and daunting as you may find it. Your father needs you there," she said softly, rubbing her thumbs over the bathrobe you wore. You gave her a look telling her you weren't in the mood to be poster girl after today.

"It'll be over before you know it," she urged.

"Yeah right," you blew a raspberry. "Those things always last so long."

"Well, you are part of this world now. So, woman up and go take charge of it," she smiled brightly, sounding so encouraging that it lit up a spark of content in you.

Slumping your shoulders with a pout, you decide there is no point in fighting it. The last time you tried to avoid an official event by hiding in the team garage, your father grounded you by having Tanaka train you like you were getting shipped to a Bear Grylls episode the next day. The very skin on your bones hurt like you saw hell briefly after that. Not doing that one again.

"Fine," you gave in. "Help me pick something normal out of this hurricane of clothes. It looks like a unicorn puked in here."

"A very stylish one," she held up a finger.

She ushered you back to the bathroom, picking up a hair dryer, a few dresses laid out on your bed and some branded makeup bags on the way. "Come on, we're running out of time. The event starts in two hours and you're far from ready."

Dolled up rather uncomfortably, you made your way to the event hall. Your heels clicked against the dark floors, looking at the décor your dad planned - gold and blue was the theme present all around. From the tables to the chairs decked in light sparkles to the crystal bar at the right of the stage lit up in blue with rows of champagne glasses, the team colours were everywhere in elegant and deep tones. Your father had a thing for interior design even if he denied it. Tanaka always joked he could work in the field if he ever got tired of racing.

It wasn't long before the hall was filled with chatter. You didn't expect so many people to come. Most were probably curious about you rather than the car or your dad's attempt at trying to be the main event again. Press came early and took up a lot of space, likely hoping to get a scoop of info out of you. Even the team principals, some drivers and bosses of other teams made their presence felt.

Your dad was busy greeting the crowd, shaking hands with that golden boy smile plastered on his face at all times. You hardly even got a chance to see him this week. While you've been stuck in training, testing and racing, he's been hauled up in the conference rooms going over paperwork or talking business night and day. The few nights you did get together, you would sit at dinner and make small talk, keeping to each their own.

Ever since he started revamping the team, he drowned himself in it completely. Not body and soul like before, but quite close to a robot devoid of feelings. Like he needed to breathe that success back into it no matter what.

With a troubled sigh, you stretched a hand to the bar to grab a glass of champagne. Your co-driver joined you, a glass of white wine in his hand.

"Champagne should be for the podium," he teased.

"It should be for whatever I want it to be," you stated, taking a sip in small vengeance.

"And what is it for now?"

Tanaka rounded around you, leaning against the bar next to you. You just stared ahead at your father, taking a bigger gulp of the alcohol with bitterness. He smiled at the two of you in sympathy.

"Nothing," you smiled back in reassurance, focusing on the swirl of the mellow golden liquid in your glass.

"He'll come around. Just give him time."

You nodded, more to yourself. Hopefully he will do it before he runs himself into the ground from stress. To see me race and be a father sometime like we promised. Following him through the crowd, you spotted him still in his tracks losing the dazzling smile on his face for a moment and sure enough you saw why.

Right in front of him sat Sigma Racing's team principal. Raven-haired in a clean dark suit, about the same age as your father, just a little more battered by it. The crooked grin on his face resembled a scowl so alarming, even you got angry at the condescending look he gave your father. They both held each other in a strong gaze, filled with a lot of ire, tension from it drifting away to the rest of the hall till it reached even you by the bar at the back.

Your father extended a somewhat friendly hand his way. A luxury he probably didn't deserve. The other man simply looked at it, scrunching his dark brow in suspicion before he shook it with a firm grip. Some words were exchanged between them, by the looks of it not that peaceful then they let go of each other. Just when you thought the great Hiro Suruki couldn't be moved, he looked like a boulder bigger than him just shoved him to the side of the road. There had to be more than just bad blood between them.

Before you knew it the event was in tow. The classical music drew out to a minor background noise for a tap of the microphone grabbing everyone's attention. Your father finally took to the stage, letting his prepared speech roll off his tongue like charmspeak.

"Hello and welcome everyone!"

He was welcomed himself by a big round of applause. Huh, he still has it. Fixing the bowtie matching his beige suit he continued even more relaxed.

"For those who don't know me, shame on you," he chuckled and the crowd followed. You could see so many familiar faces in the audience, there would hardly be anyone who didn't know him.

"For those who do, thank you for supporting me all these years with good thoughts. Or bad. We accept those too." That drew another laugh from the crowd.

"After nearly ten long years, Suruki Racing is back in business and better than ever. We started again from zero, putting everything into a new car, keeping the old glamour of the team, bringing in new spirits," he spared you a glance. "We couldn't have done this without you, the team and the star driver representing us on track."

Oh, no, no, no. Please don't call me up on stage. Please let me sit on the sidelines. Please, please, please.

"Please welcome my daughter."

Fuck me. At least don't use the government name.

"Raiko Suruki, the lightning strike powering Suruki Racing."

He used the government name.

Throwing back the rest of your champagne, you went up the stairs floating on the sound of breaking applauses and joined him on stage with a smile matching his extremely bright and fake one. This was all for show. No one gave a rat's ass about it anyway. But out of politeness and respect for your father you went with it.

Camera flashes burned in your vision from all corners of the room, momentarily blinding you as the press snapped pictures of you. Once you reached him, he turned to you with a grin. "Would you like to do the honours?"

Going behind the curtains, you got in the freshly polished rally car and turned it on, greeted by the purr of the engine as you gave it a good powerful rev announcing its arrival before you drove it on stage. The instrumental music boomed again as you reached the crowd, trumpets carrying out over the noise of the engine. You gave it a few more revs to drown out that horrible music. Your father laughed nervously as he turned to you with gritted teeth, shooting you a look to cut it out before he spinned back to the public with a smile.

Getting out of the car, you went to get off the stage thinking that was all when he called you over again. Mentally groaning that you couldn't get back to the shadows of the bar faster, you turned back and headed for him. He took a few questions from the press while you sat by his side, looking pretty, zoning out in your own world. That was until the press started directing questions at you and the microphone was pushed in your hand.

"What-," you let out, the sound of your uncalibrated voice bouncing off the speakers with a screech. "Sorry about that," you laughed nervously. "What was the question again?"

"Why did you choose to race in your father's team?" asked a female journalist. "From your broad skill set and experience, you could've been picked by any other team on the grid."

A shit show. That was what this was.

"Uhm," you paused, trying to think of something smart to say. Kate didn't really prepare you for this. You scanned the crowd, catching her figure by the bar at the far left. She rolled her hands around motioning you to just talk. Just wing it.

"I wanted to stay within the family business and help dad," you looked over at him giving him a sweeter and truer smile than the crowd could ever pull out of you, "get his dream up and running again. Suruki Racing means the world to him and it means the world to me to see him happy."

At that, his features softened and he looked like your dad for once tonight, under all the spotlight and glamour. He mouthed a subtle "Thank you" under his nose that you caught when you looked back at him. "Always" you mouthed back.

Thinking that was all, you prepared to pass the mic back to him when another reporter shoved a question your way.

"Why did Suruki Racing choose a female driver out of the wider talent pool out there?" asked a male reporter this time, his gaze piercing through you with something utterly similar to distaste.

Even the public turned their eyes on him, appalled at the tone but just as curious at the answer he would receive, focusing back on you.

One - he was clearly implying that you didn't have a talent for driving, comparing you to the other people in the junior series who were all predominantly men. Two - he was making it even more obvious that females didn't belong in the sport from the way he accentuated the words female driver like it was a bad omen. Three - the way he asked the question made your skin crawl with hot blood.

Before your dad could take your mic and reply to the question that was obviously meant for you, you lifted it back to your lips and stared the man down with all your might.

"Suruki Racing didn't choose me," you seethed, calm and collected. "I worked my ass off for it until I got good enough for the sport to accept me."

A few heads in the crowd nodded in acknowledgment at your words. It was hard to get into a rally team for everyone, not just women. But the reporter still wasn't satisfied with your response and he made that clear with his next affirmation.

"That doesn't answer my question," he shot back, obviously trying to get a reaction out of you.

Prove them wrong, echoed Tanaka's words in your head. Don't let them get to you. Keeping your composure level-headed without giving him the satisfaction to see your rage, you replied.

"Suruki Racing picked me out of the wider talent pool out there because I proved myself to be a capable rally driver."

"A capable rally driver doesn't put the car in a ditch mid-race," he argued, still not backing down.

This dude was looking for a bone to pick with the wrong dog.

"No," you countered. "A capable rally driver gets third place first time on the job and overcomes challenges rather than giving into them like most of your very talented idols must be doing."

He threw his head back, barking a laugh so irritating it got harder to keep calm and carry on being civil.

"That was just pure luck."

"Pure luck will not be my foot through-" your face, you wanted to say but stopped.

You leaned towards him a bit too menacingly, forgetting that everyone else was kinda there, watching it all unfold. Waiting for you to step wrong. He didn't deserve the mercy for that potty mouth of his. But this was too public to cause a scene. Straightening back, you coughed awkwardly.

"Through the gas pedal each race. I'm here to compete for Suruki Racing and I will do so until the team no longer wants me."

With that you shut him up and handed the mic back to your father who nodded at you in contentment.

"I think that was all for our Q&A session. Please enjoy the rest of tonight and good luck in tomorrow's stages!"

Finally off the stage, you went back to the bar and hogged a few more glasses of champagne. Thinking this was just the beginning and much worse awaited you was unnerving to say the least. You were downing your third glass when jet black hair appeared in your peripheral vision. Looking over you found a really amused Naozumi peering right back at you. He checked you out shamelessly, letting his dark eyes browse you from top to bottom.

Kate picked out a midnight blue satin dress for you, hugging your curves in all the right places, with a huge back drop exposing your behind. A semi-precious trail of shimmering stones fell down your back from where the straps were joined, all the way to your lower back where it connected with the rest of the dress. Your hair was pulled into a braided bun, little side pieces framing your face softly. You looked less like yourself and more like one of those models he hangs out with on the usual.

Letting your eyes do the same, you lingered on his own attire. He wore a navy suit tailored to his body a bit larger than his tight racing suit, giving him a broader form but still rounding around his bulky biceps with a strain. His hair was no longer a messy bird's nest from the helmet, fixed into a neat hairstyle. His dark strands sat so thick and orderly in small waves, it was hard to believe this was the same hair those heavy hands rove through like it was an Olympic sport.

The man could really look his million dollar smile when he wanted to.

"Didn't think you'd be here tonight," you mused, playing around with the champagne in your glass.

"I kinda have a thing for public humiliation," he beamed, giving you that smirk reserved for the masses of ladies waiting to fall at his feet.

Some of them already clocked him next to you, batting their mascara filled eye lashes at him in thirst for a piece of him. You wondered how it felt being one of them. So smitten and drawn to him like he wasn't the biggest red flag on earth.

"Oh well, I would say you came to the right place for that." You took a bigger sip from the glass, letting the dry bubbly liquid run down your throat. "But you do that after every race by yourself anyways, no offence."

"None taken," he replied, leaning on the bar to browse the bottles on the racks illuminated by led lights.

Surprised that he didn't argue on that observation like it was his nature to, at practically every single thing that annoyed him, you regarded him once more. He seemed oddly calm. Maybe way too calm. But then again, you met the guy like a handful of times. You didn't know him that well. Maybe he had his good and bad days and the ones on track were the bad kind.

He looked like a tough nut to crack. He definitely had more layers than the racing suit he wore. And if anything, Naozumi Hiyama was a puzzle you were better off leaving wrapped up on the shelf for now.

His deep voice cut through the animated chatter around you, grabbing your attention once more.

"That was really ballsy back there, rookie," he said with a wry smile.

He was talking about your near assault on that reporter that was looking for a tabloid story. He watched the exchange from the back of the hall with slight irritation himself. If that was him in your shoes, he would've punched the guy multiple times just to get all his questions out in a more productive way.

"One more word and I would've kicked his balls to Narnia."

A deep chuckle rumbled out of his throat at that. You knew what you signed up for coming into this world and he respected that. Some of the fuckers that have been here for longer didn't even have that decency.

He eyed the glasses of champagne next to you, stacked high in several pyramids. You moved to the side thinking he wanted one. He shook his head, asking the bartender for whiskey on the rocks instead. It suited him much better than champagne for some reason. Just like whiskey, there was this strong hit about him at first sight, so smooth and raw with his words, that blended into a surprisingly bittersweet aftertaste just like his smile. The ice crashing in the glass only added to that hard exterior he put up for the world.

You were curious if he was this icy with everyone. Was his interior just as arctic and brutal to someone who made the effort to get through to him or was Naozumi Hiyama an impenetrable iceberg that sunk all the ships of amicable intent? And now you were curious about the very devil you were warned to stay away from.

Get your bearings around, Rai. He's danger in far more ways than you can think of.

"Champagne is only for podium," he piped up.

"Ah, not you too," you rolled your eyes.

Was it a men thing that you weren't aware of? Why did you have to celebrate something huge to pop open a bottle of champagne?

Last time I checked, whiskey was more expensive than champagne.

"Tradition is tradition," he simply shrugged.

"Is it bad luck or something?" you leaned over with interest, trying to gauge out the meaning of this weird tradition. Or rather the meaning it held for him.

He lifted up his raven eyes from the drink, glass steaming at the contact with his warm hand. Pointing them with measured grip on your own, the corner of his lip tilted up in experienced manner. Like he's seen the worst of it if he gave in to the will of Dionysus with so much as a small sip of champagne before the big day. You didn't take him for a superstitious person until now. But that look told you he was its victim many times. Who would've thought that Naozumi believes in karma.

"Don't jinx what you don't know," he stated, like a silent mantra he recited to himself all the time.

To beware the unknown and leave it to fate. Control what you know, not what you don't. Just like your pre-race ritual.

Maybe you were more alike than you thought. Not temper wise. He won that part fair and square with the outbursts he had after nearly every race. But in other parts of common ground. You wondered what else was silently shared between you.

Before you could peer more into the wild force of nature beside you, you were joined by another one, much more brighter and cheerful than the storm at your left, but still as deadly as a tornado behind the wheel.

"There you were," interjected a soft voice from your right.

Akira joined in the conversation, briefly regarding Naozumi with a smug grin. You gave Akira a small smile, turning back to find that Naozumi made himself scarce with his glass of whiskey by the time you looked from one to the other. He had this weird habit of waltzing in and lighting up all your curiosities then leaving just when you were about to satisfy them. Browsing the crowd for him, you found no trace of him.

"Here I am," you replied back, brushing off the meek interaction with the other man. "Were you looking for me?"

The music slowed to a slow melodious tune that stabbed your ears painfully. Curse your father for his very bland taste in music. You'd expect more from someone with a golden earring that blasts Metallica every morning as his alarm. He wanted to look good to the world but this was actually how he killed all excitement. Not that this event even had excitement in the first place. Unless you counted your stage debut for an entertainment moment.

A few couples in the crowd took to the dance floor, swaying lightly on their feet. Team principals with their wives, mechanics with their spouses, a few drivers and their model girlfriends too. They drew each other close, dancing on the tempo of a slow mellow waltz. You never understood what it was about slow music that was so alluring to people and drew them together to hold each other so close. For one moment where they danced like their souls connected, they forgot everything about their problems and the reality of the life we were all living. Not running at full speed. Simply just being.

"I have been looking for you," said Akira, rather excited about something.

He offered his hand to you in the most gentlemanly way someone of the opposite gender ever did towards you. The kind of gentleman you see in those princess movies, where the girl gets whisked away by the nicest guy, golden carriages and diamond tiaras included. You swore you could see his eyes sparkle like stars lost in the resolute distance of the night sky. Or it was just the drunken haze of the champagne talking.

"Would you care for a dance?"

He asked so softly with that dizzying smile of his that it made your knees weak.

Dancing with the Akira Shinkai? A hallucination surely.

There was no way this prince charming came out of nowhere and asked you, a nobody yet, to dance. That and the fact that you weren't even supposed to be talking to him, considering everything Tanaka told you. Plus the previous heated interaction between your team leaders. A heavy mix of feelings that kinda weren't yours, but your father's.

"Okay," you yelped.

Okay? Rai Suruki. Akira Shinkai of Sigma Racing asks you if you care for a dance and you say okay?

He led you to the edge of the dance floor, placing his hands around your waist to pull you closer. You weren't sure what to do with your own, setting them against his chest for now. He swayed you side to side to the slow music. You focused on his deep brown eyes, getting sucked into their void with each sway. They were so big and round.

Conversation, Rai. Make some conversation.

"Thank you for the sandwich earlier today."

Great. 'Cause talking about sandwiches is conversation.

"No problem. I saw it got you a few places up the board."

"But it brought you down a few," you looked up at him, feeling a little responsible for that.

On the crescendo of a soft violin aria, he spun you out, bringing you back in closer than before. Your hands weren't pressed to his chest anymore, but circled around his shoulders to keep your balance. Your faces were so close that your breaths were nearly brushing off each other's lips. When did he get so close?

His lips parted catching the attention of your eyes instantly. Those were some delicious rosy lips if you've seen any. Get a grip Rai. Mentally scolding yourself for the inadequate direction your thoughts were going in, you focused back on his eyes. Though even that was a mistake.

"If anything, it wasn't half a sandwich that made me lose places," he chuckled, eyes crinkling into crescent shapes. "This tour is so complicated. I hate it with a passion."

"That I can agree with," you giggled.

The song changed to a really sad tune, slightly upbeat violin changed for the sorrowful piano in the back, drowning out every bit of energy you had left for the day just like that. That's it. If this continued any longer, you'd fall asleep standing.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?"

Heading for the dj booth on top of the stage, you climbed up the steps careful not to trip in your heels and cause yet another scene. You walked behind the dj and nudged his shoulder. He put down his headphones wondering what it was you wanted.

"For the love of god, please change the playlist," you asked, prying your hands together.

He looked at you briefly, thinking he'd get away with just a song request from you. Too bad he just met the one person in this room who didn't mess around when it came to music.

"This is what Mr. Suruki said to play," he spoke over the track, moving to put his headphones back up when you nudged him again. You weren't leaving until he changed the disk. Even if it involved violence.

"The crowd is dying out there," you motioned to the public that was genuinely exhausted and bored out of their mind. "Here," you fished out your phone and connected it to his laptop before he could complain about you hogging his deck, pulling up a file on his laptop and downloading it. "Play this mix."

"Won't that get me in trouble?"

"I'll make sure he pays double."

That seemed to convince him. He gave the mix a quick listen through his headphones, eyes widening at the music choice. Even his face brightened as he gave you a thumbs up.

You walked off the stage going back to join the small crowd. A few moments passed and the sorrowful instrumentals faded into energetic electronic dance beats. People sitting around the tables moved back on the dance floor, this time getting into it better than soft waltz music could make them dance. The lights dimmed to a steep blue, letting a light show peak through. You successfully turned the event hall in a club.

You got back to Akira, a knowing smirk on his face.

"You are full of surprises, Rai Suruki," he grinned.

You bopped your head to the beat, moving your hips in sync with the music, feeling awakened rather than half-asleep. The alcohol finally pumped through your body along with the deep bass, sending the blood in your veins running like waves on an open sea. Your hands latched back on Akira's making him move with you in languid moves.

"Just wait till you get to know me better," you yelled over the music.

He snorted at you with a shake of his head, that turned into a full laugh carrying over the music. You made Akira snort. Double points in the charisma book. He whirled you around, back crashing into his chest. A confident hand sneaked around you to pull you closer by your waist, now moving hip to hip to the song. His lips brushed to your ear without warning.

"This dj is so good," he whispered, sending chills down your spine.

The whole mood shifted around you with the next song, so full of life and energized. Some people in the crowd yelled the lyrics, throwing their hands in the air. He seemed to enjoy himself too as the man on the deck pumped up the speakers even louder, letting the mix boom out and rouse the spirits.

You simply nodded with a small smile. The dj was good for sure. That and the fact that he was kinda dancing with her.

Showered once more, to get rid of all the makeup, and in the comfort of your loose nightwear, you finally dove head first into the bed like a submarine submerging in the depths of the mattress, snuggling your head into the silky pillows on the bed. Your silky soft pillows that you packed everywhere you went. Who trusts those hard hotel deadlifts under their head? Not what you wanted to lay on after being pushed around in a sports two-seater the size of a space capsule.

Getting comfy under the covers, you let out a sigh of content at the warmth enveloping your body in each and every neatly tucked in corner under you. You closed your eyes, willing mother sleep to take you into her loving arms and lull you into deep, restful slumber.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day with the last round of the Tokai track and you could use better points after today's performance. Going for podium wasn't even in the cards yet. The car had better days ahead of it. You had to keep from pushing it more than necessary. But the points could help you catch up.

The lights dimmed down in the room, the jungle outside the hotel ceased riveting and it was just peace and quiet. Perfect, serene and silent.

You were barely hanging on the last brink of consciousness when something rattled against the wall behind your head. Your eyes flew open checking around the room and the headboard to be met by the quiet pitch black again. The headboard was still where it should be, no sign of anything that could move it. Shrugging it off, you crashed back into your pillows and tried to go back to sleep.

Until you heard that sound again. And again. The third time, it was accompanied by an awfully female voice struggling to moan. What the fuck? It grew quiet again, then all of a sudden you could hear her loud and clear, pushing that really annoying mewl out of her throat in sync with the banging in the wall. Pulling your other pillow over your ears, you tried drowning the lewd sounds out but it only proved futile as the minutes on the nightstand clock passed and she was still struggling to commit to one fucking tone to come to.

For the ever-loving shit of sleep.

Throwing away the covers, you left the amazing comfort of the bed and wore your slippers. You flung the door open, marching down the corridor to the room next door. The moaning was even louder out here, bouncing off the walls like it was played from speakers. You stopped in front of the door, banging on it with bubbling annoyance at being denied sleep due to someone prioritizing their funky time more than the peace of other people under the same roof.

All sounds stopped upon your angry knocks. Crossing your arms over your chest, you blew out a breath waiting for the resident of the room to open the door. Then it dawned on you that you weren't sure just what you were going to tell them and how they were going to react.

Would they make it a big deal that you cockblocked their big night? Hopefully not. What if they deck you in the wall for interrupting? You looked behind at the hard wall decorated with a lamp and gulped. I have martial arts training.

You tapped your foot anxiously thinking of an amicable solution when the door finally pried open revealing an almost naked Naozumi, wearing only a pair of black briefs that sat way too tight around his jewels for your liking. You choked on air. Dear lord. Your jaw dropped somewhere to the first of lava at the center of the earth as you took him in.

His neatly arranged jet black hair was now a thick mess straying in all sides from possibly being grabbed at with womanly strength. Only a woman hungry enough for a taste of him would do that kind of mess. Something stirred deep down inside of you at the sight. You didn't like it one bit.

Your eyes trailed down his exposed torso taking in every ridge of muscle from his toned pumped up pecs, the carved squares of his abs that might as well be the best washboard you've ever seen, to his veiny biceps curling around his middle before you could take a peak at what lay beneath his belly button as he leaned on the door frame.

Heat crawled up your neck the longer you stared at him unable to tear your eyes away. By god was he handsome. And hot. Hotter than hell could ever burn.

He watched your shameless perusal, making sure to catch the pink tint spreading across your cheeks and the way your tongue swiped over your bottom lip in thinking, things at which he chuckled lowly. Openly checking him out like this was unlike you and he was curious just how far you'd take it if he just let you. Testing it out, he unraveled a hand away, watching your eyes instantly latch on his lower abs like a cat jumping after a laser. He shifted on his legs, causing the muscles on his waist to bend on one side and stretch on the other. He was so broad and big, it overwhelmed you.

You knew he was packed just from sneaking glances at those white fireproofs, catching them strain underneath with each move of his body, but this was next level. You looked at the power nestled between his meaty thighs and swallowed a thick gulp of air, reeling back up his body. Sweat glistened on the trunk of his neck under the flickering light of the corridor - a clear product of what he was up to before you interrupted.

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall brought you out of your daze like a truck hit you at full speed, then rammed over you again backwards.

You were in the hallway of the rally teams hotel, looking at a very naked and sweaty Naozumi. You cockblocked Naozumi Hiyama of all people. The playboy extraordinaire. You'd be lucky if you got out of this unscathed. Or with your braincells intact because the longer you stared at his abs or the dip in the crook of his neck you lost a huge amount of them.

"Can I help you?" he asked, irritating smirk that's been slowly getting under your skin bright as day on his face.

"Yes," your voice came out on a broken pitch. You cleared your throat trying again more sure of yourself. "Yes you can."

You struggled to look away. It was physically impossible to when he looked like one of those ivory sculptures of naked Greek gods you see in museums. Though he wasn't fully naked like them. Okay, let's lose the word 'naked'.

Your train of thought got stopped by his smooth voice, slightly tinted with amusement.

"What is it I can help you with?"

That seemed to oil your brain back to work.

"Can you stop moaning so loud? Some of us are trying to get some sleep," you looked him dead in the eye.

"That wasn't me," he said, moving to the side slightly.

You got a view of his own hotel bed, pillows and clothes scattered across the floor in heaps, graced by a woman on top of it tangled in nothing but a white sheet. She softly waved at you. Before you knew it, you waved back with a nervous smile, too entranced by her beauty. Her long platinum blonde hair cascaded down her collar bones, complimenting her tender milky skin and petite form so well. Adding her bright smile to it, you could swear you just saw an angel from heaven. She is way out of his league.

"Are those Lightning McQueen pajamas?" asked Naozumi rather confused, pointing to your nightwear.

Your nightwear had the face of the popular Cars character in the middle of your long sleeve top. The pants had several miniature versions of it, checkered flags and the iconic golden Piston Cup, all over them on red background. A Christmas present from Tanaka you adored. Well, not anymore, considering you currently looked like a toddler sitting before two bare deities.

Your hands shot out to try and cover most of it but it was no use. He already saw it all, including your Mater slippers sized to scale, hugging your ankles better than any pair of boots could, and he was simply just smiling at you. There was a curiosity about you in his eyes. The same one you had about him.

You cleared your throat, embarrassed in a dozen different ways, looking forward to hitting the bed and sleeping.

"Just fuck quietly or something."

The woman behind him called his name softly. He turned back around to the beautiful angel waiting for him. Even her voice was angelic. Seriously, what was she doing with this excuse of a man? By the earlier sounds of it and the sight before you now, he clearly was the one who struggled to satisfy her.

"What did she say?" she asked.

He rolled back to your form in the hallway and just smirked at you, uttering the next words like they weren't dripping with the most sinful implications.

"She said you weren't loud enough."

A scarlet red hot tomato package on a ketchup bottle. That was how furiously you were blushing right now. Those words weren't even directed at you but at the woman behind him. Though you couldn't help the flurry they started in your belly since he looked at you so intensely when he said them.

"Really? Why doesn't she join us?" she asked excitedly sitting up on the bed.

His smirk turned into a full toothy grin at that remark.

"Right? Why don't you join us?"

I'm out of here.

Not staying longer for the incoming teasing attack at your already crumbling sanity, you started making your way back to your room in shame, his laugh booming behind you. You threw him the middle finger this time only making him laugh harder.

Please choke on her pussy and die.

You closed the door and sped-walked to the bed, getting back under the covers, sighing at the warmth still preserved under the big heavy duvet. Since it was quiet again, you thought it all stopped. Until the previous strangled moans turned louder and louder and the rattle in the wall turned into a full rhythmic bang, fully shaking your own bed with you in it.

I'm going to fucking kill him.

🏎️ Glossary of terms and other useful information 🏎️

Stages - A rally consists of several stages over the course of three days, usually at the end of the week. These are series of timed races where the drivers take on different portions of track in the selected area of the race region. There can be 2-4 stages in a day, stretching over 20-50 kilometers.

DNF - Did Not Finish. When a car does not finish the race due to falling off the track. You either hit the gravel, spin out with understeer, or hit a road hazard. Basically anything that can get you out of the time frame of completing the track stage.

Pace notes - Taken by driver and co-driver on a ride along the course pre-race stage (also called a recce for reconnaissance). They point out road hazards and corners that the driver isn't able to see during the fast race. Example: 5 left over crest - hill portion approaching.

Oversteer - Happens when there's too much power applied than the tyres can take, making the car slip and push in the other direction of the turn. Balance is important here.

Understeer - Happens when the car turns less than you want it to in a corner. For example, you force the steering wheel to the left too briskly and the car doesn't turn entirely. The tyres screech and lose grip.

Overdrive is based around the fictional Asian SEIKO Cup Rally Series, mostly focused on Japan. Tour de Tokai is the 3rd round out of 13 rounds in the calendar, taking place right at the beginning of the movie. The champion of the series is determined by the total number of points accumulated at the end of the series, advancing to the World Rally Championship!

Thank you for reading! Please leave a note, comment or reblog :)

#runaway 🏎️🏁#naozumi hiyama #naozumi hiyama x reader #naozumi x you #akira shinkai #akira shinkai x reader #overdrive fic #overdrive mackenyu

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free-for-all-fics · 7 months ago

Text

So… Turns out I wrote waaaaaay more than I thought because what I was hoping would be only a 3-part fic at most turned into 7 parts due to post limits. Whoops? Anyway, hope you Claude Rains fans enjoy this crossover fic. If you’re inspired by it at all pls tag me and I’d love to read it! 1/7 💜📸📝

Warnings: Harsh language, intense anger issues, bullying, time-period sexism, religion and antisemitism mentions, violence, age-gap romance (you’re in your 20’s, the Claude character is in his 40’s) Fanny Skeffington bashing and strained/tense mother-daughter relationship (in the context of the story, you’ll see.)

“I’m very happy, Fanny. How about you?”

“Well, at the moment, I'm more surprised than happy.”

“Don't you like children?”

“No. They always seem to be so wise.”

“Well, I think any child of ours has a fair chance of being stupid, Fanny.”

On April 16, 1916, Mrs. Frances “Fanny” Skeffington unexpectedly gave birth to twin girls, you and your sister, Fanny. When you were born, you screamed like your body was rebelling against your existence - as if you’d arrived in a world that made no sense at all. When you were very little, one thing ever upset you and brought tears to your eyes: When your father went away. While either of you were awake, Job would never leave your sister or yourself for more than an hour or two. But being a Skeffington meant he had duties to perform. As much as he missed his daughters when he was away, especially if it was for days at a time, and would have loved to have taken you and your sister with him on various business trips, even he had to admit that it was no place for children and, sometimes, you and your sister were better off staying in the safety and warmth of the house on Charles Street. You seemed to disagree most days. Temper tantrums were inevitably bound to happen, especially in very young children. Job knew this. You were so little, you just didn’t know how to regulate your very confusing emotions yet. Job didn’t think much of it back then. But there was one day where it was especially bad.

You, your father’s darling daughter, were sat in the middle of your nursery. Your small face was red and scrunched up in displeasure. Tears were streaming down your cheeks and onto the carpeted floor below. It was half past seven o’clock in the evening. You were supposed to be put down for bedtime thirty minutes ago, but nothing seemed to work. When it was bedtime, Fanny usually fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. But you were usually a bit fussy and didn’t want to sleep. You wanted more food, you wanted to play, you wanted to be held, you wanted something. The nanny put you in your crib like always, but you just tossed and turned, rolling this way and that until you kicked off your blankets, like always. You used the wooden bars to support yourself and stand up. You couldn’t climb over and out, so you just stood there, watching and waiting. The nanny tried everything she could think of, but you were determined to stay awake. So she brought in your father for help. Maybe you wanted him. He picked you up and lifted you out of your crib and, after holding and rocking you for a few minutes, placed you on the floor. It made your father’s heart hurt to see you this way, but nothing he said or did seemed to console you.

“I’ll be back very soon, my darling,” he cooed from where he was crouched in front of you, brushing back some of your baby hairs from your forehead. “It’s only for a short time. Then I’ll be back.”

Though you were little more than a baby at the time and couldn’t possibly comprehend what he was saying, it was almost as if you didn’t believe him. After a short pause, you leaned back and inhaled, and then let out a great wail of anguish.

Your father winced. “Please, sweetheart.” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe your tears, but you turned your head every which way, hating the feeling of the soft cloth on your sticky, wet face. Job snatched a cushion off the nearest chair and threw it on the floor on the other side of the short-legged tea-table before lowering himself to the floor, sitting squarely opposite you. He moved quickly and quietly, sweeping you onto his lap and crossing his legs, allowing you to rest easily on his thighs, and gaze up at him. “It’s all right. No need for such tears!”

“Mr. Skeffington, I can fetch the nanny,” Manby said from her place by the door in a small voice. No doubt, she didn’t think it was suitable for him to be on the floor, holding a wet and weeping child.

“Nonsense. She’s my daughter, I can handle—”

His words were cut short by another wail, one so loud he doubted it even came from you. Was such a thing even possible? You were so small, and the voice was so loud… Suddenly, Fanny, his wife, swept into the room. Manby, still stood by the door, bowed her head in a polite nod to acknowledge her Mistress’ appearance. Fanny caught Job’s eye and, upon seeing him on the floor, frowned slightly. Clearly, it wasn’t just the household staff that thought the image of the Master on the floor of the nursery was an interesting one.

“I wondered what had happened to detain you,” your mother said slowly, making her way into the room.

“Apologies,” he replied, raising his voice slightly to be heard over you who, on seeing your mother, had begun to squirm and cry even louder than before. He turned his attention back to you. “There’s no need for that, my love,” he huffed, a sound halfway between amusement and a sigh. “As you can see, I was preoccupied,” he continued, bouncing his legs slightly, mimicking the flap of butterfly wings, hoping that the action might’ve pleased you and gave you a respite from your tears. It didn’t as, once again without warning, you let out another wail.

“What in all the world has happened to warrant such tears!” your mother asked your father with wide eyes.

Still bouncing his legs, Job explained, “I made to leave.”

Your mother didn’t understand, but Manby understood immediately. Job looked down at you with a small and sad smile, before raising his head towards the door. “You can go ahead and leave us, Fanny. Inform Mr. and Mrs. Malloy that I will not be at the dinner this evening.”

“Well… If you’re certain, Job.”

“I am. I’m sure Chester and Freddie won’t mind if I don’t come along.”

Fanny exited the nursery, Manby following and closing the door behind her, leaving just you and your father alone, the nanny not having been called. You sat in silence for a moment, your father watching as you sniffled and looked up at him with your large, wide eyes. Your face was still damp with tears and the color in your cheeks had dulled to a flushed, rosy pink. You were seemingly much calmer now, as if you heard the door click shut and had the keen awareness that your father had given in and opted to stay with you after all.

Suddenly, Job let his relieved smile, that he had stifled in your mother’s presence, show. He leaned forward to run his hand down your face. You finally let him brush away the drying tears and, while he was at it, he took the opportunity to also brush back your hair, trying to tame the wild strands that were messy and poking up in every direction. “Well, darling, looks like it’s just you and me tonight. I’ll tell you a secret: I didn’t want to go to that dinner party anyway. I’m sure Chester and Freddie will be pleased. Come on, sweetheart. Come on,” he said, somewhat gleefully. He picked you up like you were expecting but, to your disappointment, he laid you back down in your crib and covered you with the blanket. You were about to pout and fuss again, but his voice stopped you. “Darling?” your father asked carefully, “Would you like to see something? Something special?”

Another thing that you had in common with your father: A burning curiosity. You nodded furiously, and Job smiled. You watched, enthralled, as your father held a mobile in his two pale hands out in front of himself. He hung it up over your crib. It was beautiful, with butterflies of all kinds, all painted beautiful shades of blue, green, and purple. The light from your room illuminated it in a way reminiscent of the moon as it reflected off the spinning mobile. You watched in awe as the small butterflies began to move and fly out in all different directions. You laughed and wriggled, before reaching out your hands in the direction of the butterflies, as if to grab them. But you had no luck in reaching them, they were too high up.

“Dada!” you whined suddenly, dropping your hands in defeat.

Job froze, as did the nanny who had come in to check on you.

“Dada! Dada!”

The nanny raised her head to Mr. Skeffington, intent on sharing a surprised look, but instead, she noticed his eyes had filled, and he looked ready to cry, and yet he was smiling.

Nine years after your birth, your chubby little baby face had developed into a beautiful little girl. In your mother’s words, your sister, Fanny, inherited all of your father’s brains and none of her looks. As a matter of fact, Job said she looked like his grandmother. You, the other daughter, however, were the exact opposite. You inherited all of Fanny’s looks but none of Job’s brains. By the time Fanny was only six, she was as gentle as a hummingbird. She knew her courtesies well. Not only that, she was a model student. She had her struggles in certain subjects like every child but, unlike her, you were struggling and failing almost everything. It was around the time when you were both nine years old that the people around you, especially your father and Uncle George, began to really notice your behavioral problems. You began to exhibit hostile behavior. The littlest things seemed to set you off. One day at school, you and Fanny were playing on the playground, complete with a swings carousel, jungle gym, and a tall corkscrew slide made to look like a rocket ship, just like the other kids. You played amongst yourselves, but then you noticed something that made you stop short. A girl approaching on a bicycle. It was Emily. You didn’t know her last name, nor did you care. All you knew was that she was your main bully. She acted as ringleader to a group of girls whose mission it was to make your life harder than it needed to be.

You had a Christian mother and Jewish father, but you and Fanny were raised without an affiliation to either religion. You’d always considered yourself non-religious despite your regular conversations with God. You didn’t understand that your mother and father were of different faiths, nor the importance of it. Until you realized that, in New York, all the neighbors and other kids’ parents were either Christian or Jewish and their children were raised to be the same. One or the other, but never both. The group of girls always called you names. You didn’t understand what “crossbreed” and “kike” meant. You felt you had to make a choice to "belong", so you decided to do your own research about faith. You attended two Christian services with your mother and one Jewish service with your father, but you found the services boring and hard to follow (as you didn’t know the songs or the meanings of anything), and spent the time counting hats. You also dealt with the issues of growing up and puberty—including worry over periods, feelings about boys, getting your first bra, and jealousy about others. The girls at school pulled your hair, messed with your personal belongings… But Emily was the worst of them.

They didn’t go after your twin sister, Fanny. Just you. She wasn’t bullied, harassed, or tormented by other children like you were, probably because you were the much easier target. Fanny was a little lady, practically perfect in every way. She was everything you were not, but you didn’t envy her. She could be shy and soft-spoken at times, but she made friends easily, got good grades, and dressed and behaved in a way a girl should. You, on the other hand, were cursed with your late uncle’s temper at times, and the rudeness was all yours. You were furious when Fanny’s friend’s parents insisted that you both must be a Christian because your mother is one and faith passes through the mother—and they could overlook the "sins" of your father being Jewish. You were already angry at them for coming to visit at all, but them insisting on you being Christian was your rage breaking point.

“I found it odd you didn’t join us in saying Grace at dinner. With your father, it’s understandable, but... Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Your sister did.”

“She wanted to. I didn’t.”

“Are you one with Christ like your mother and sister, Miss Skeffington?”

“Your parents didn’t raise you and your sister to be of different faiths, did they? That’d be rather…unheard of.”

“How about you shut your damn mouths?”

“Language, young lady! Don’t use such words. The Lord hears everything, even after we say ‘Amen’.”

“You’re guests in our house. I’ll say whatever I damn well please. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“Won’t you tell us a story? My old man, God rest his soul, used to say that Jews are good at telling stories. You must have your father’s Jew blood in you.”

“You want a story? Fine. There once was a man who came to know Christ in a monastery. He wanted to be a priest. And under the guidance and discipline of the monks who lived there, he came to memorize both the testaments, the writings of Assisi, Aquinas, Erasmus, all the saints and scholars. His father, a vulgar man, did not think much of this education, and so he and his brothers conspired to pull him out, lock him away, where, between beatings, starvations, and the failure of Christ to intercede the beatings and starvations, he slowly forgot all about the testaments. Assisi, Aquinas, Erasmus, all of it.”

“Stop.”

“And so to answer your boring question, there is an ocean between Christ and myself. I hope that satisfies you. But who can say. Your brain must be collecting dust in your skull from years of disuse, you pigheaded fool.”

“Stop!”

“Then don’t do that shit here! Not with me, not with my sister, and not with my father. You understand?”

They left the house and never came back after that. You weren’t sorry to see them go, of course. You were only sorry that Fanny lost a friend because of you. Going back to school was awkward. Both for her and for you.

October 1925

Today was P.E. and we played soccer. Jasmine and I were team red. I think Kristina wanted to be team red too. Jasmine is really good at soccer. P.E. is the only subject I’m good at. I’m failing almost everything else. I hope Mother and Daddy won’t be mad at me. I don't like after school programs, especially ballet. It's difficult, and boring. And I hate proper etiquette. What's wrong with being myself? I don't need to be like Mother. Miss Brook came to pick me up from my after school program and defended me today. The kids walked away when she said her brother is going to catch them and put them in jail. He’s a politician or something. I don’t know. I want to be like her. I want to be the next Miss Brook! That way, no one will ever bully me.

November 1925

Yesterday’s classes were the worst! Mr. Davis was usually very nice, so I was happy to be in his class again today. But this morning, I was disciplined for the first time. During class, Mr. Davis caught me daydreaming again. I didn’t realize what I was doing until he called my name two or three times. He made me show him my slate, (a test to see if I was paying attention? A test I was doomed to fail?) and, instead of spelling, there were doodles all over it. I pleaded and insisted that I didn’t remember drawing anything, but…I must’ve. Why else would those doodles be on my slate? I said that I wouldn’t do it again, but he didn’t believe me because this wasn’t the first time. He had me stand up and come to the front of the classroom. He struck me. In front of the entire class. Something about being an example. I was terrified, but Mr. Davis said it needed to happen for me to learn and grow. He struck me. He hit the palms of my hands with his ruler so many times, it made me want to scream. I wished I could go numb to what was going on. I don’t want to experience it ever again. I can cover the marks with gloves and Mother’s makeup for now, but I just hope nobody will notice. It hurts to even hold a pencil or piece of chalk.

“Class is dismissed.”

“I hope this will teach her a lesson. Stuck up thing.”

“Miss Skeffington, you may close the door.”

“Mr. Davis, if I solemnly promise not to draw anymore on my slate when I'm supposed to be practicing my spelling, may I go?”

“Have I your promise?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Give me your slate.”

“Oh, no.”

“Your slate, Miss Skeffington.”

“I beg of you.”

“The slate. Did you draw this, Miss Skeffington?”

“I-I think so.”

“Hand me the ruler. Hold out your hand. Higher. Higher.”

“I'm ready, Mr. Davis.”

“You may go, Miss Skeffington.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you. Oh, thank you, Mr. Davis.”

Emily pretended to not see you and just rode right by. You watched, your face strangely slack, then started to follow her. Fanny gave you a confused look, but tagged along. You found Emily’s bike parked nearby where she was playing. There were kids playing and moms and dads watching. You ignored them all. Emily was climbing on the jungle gym with some other kids. You walked over with Fanny in tow and just watched Emily play. When Emily saw you watching her, she made a face. You just stood there, staring.

“What are you looking at?”

No response. Fanny tugged on your arm, but you were rooted in place, staring blankly at Emily. Finally, Emily couldn’t take it. She climbed off the jungle gym and walked away, and you watched her go. Emily got on a swing but, just as she started to get some height, you were right there, staring at her again. Fanny happily grabbed a swing for herself, but you were fixated on Emily.

“Stop staring at me! Stop it!”

But you were unwavering and couldn’t take your eyes off of her. Emily got off the swing and ran away, while you walked after her. You looked calm on the outside, but inside you were simmering with rage. She had to pay.

“Go away! Stop following me, freak!”

Fanny saw you following Emily and grudgingly got off the swing, hurrying to catch up. Emily gave the both of you an angry look as you followed her across the park, Fanny still uncertain about what was going on. Emily headed for the tall corkscrew slide. Steep stairs led to the enclosed top, the tip of the rocket ship.

Emily started up the stairs, then paused. She turned to you. “You go first.”

You didn’t move, but Fanny gladly took her turn. After a beat, you followed Fanny up the stairs. Emily stayed behind, watching. Fanny went down the spiraling slide, but you just stood at the top, looking down at Emily.

“Go!”

You continued to stare down at her for a beat, then turned and disappeared from sight. Only then did Emily climb up. Fanny ran to the stairs for another turn, while Emily reached the top and looked around. She saw Fanny, but where were you? She turned, and suddenly, you were right in front of her. You didn't go down the slide, you were just crouched out of sight. Emily gasped - then you spat In her face and pushed her down the stairs. Emily screamed as she fell, her limbs flailing out of control. She landed hard in the dirt and just laid there crying, clutching her arm and bleeding from a gash in her forehead. Emily’s scream drew alarmed looks. One of the playground mothers came running to help. But Fanny stood frozen, gaping at you in total shock. You stared blankly down at Emily from atop the slide, utterly emotionless. Emily’s father arrived on the scene. Emily said something to him and pointed at you and Fanny, who watched from a distance. The principal was called, who in turn personally called your father to come pick both you and Fanny up, cutting your school day short. You and Fanny waited outside the principal’s office, sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs while he and your father were having their private discussion about the incident at recess and your involvement in it. You couldn’t hear anything of their conversation except for,

“Well, to begin with, your daughter has many good qualities. She’s intelligent. She has imagination...”

“Oh, this is gonna be even worse than I thought.”

And then the heavy wooden door closed, preventing you from listening further. Twenty minutes felt like an eternity to the two of you, especially since you couldn’t hear a word of what was being said from inside.

“Are you going to tell on me?”

Your sister shrugged, unsure what to do.

“I didn't mean to hurt her. I just wanted her to stop picking on me.” When you noticed the look your sister was giving you, you continued, “Don't you hate it when someone is mean to you for no reason? Wouldn't you do almost anything to make them stop?”

A beat. Fanny nodded. Finally, mercifully, the door opened and your father emerged.

“Come on, girls. Let’s go.”

You and Fanny both immediately got up, eager to be free from the hard plastic chairs. Your father walked between the both of you, holding your hand in his right and Fanny’s hand in his left. In your free hand, you clutched a sketchbook held together with a rubber band. Your feet were encased in saddle shoes and they clicked on the concrete as you walked outside to your father’s car. Activity on the playground stopped as the girls watched you leave. None of them looked sorry to see you go. You ignored them. Your father put your things - your backpack and your paintings - in the trunk of the car.

November 1925

Manby saw the marks on my hands and helped me. She cleaned my wounds. It was painful. I told her what happened, told her that I could not stand the degradation of being forced to attend school with a lot of ill-mannered girls who stick their silly noses into other people's business. Manby said I should be patient. But they threw stones at me. Manby told me to forgive and forget. She said they don’t know what they’re doing. I like Manby, but I hate the other kids.

"Sweet child, it is a myth that the strong bully the weak. It is those who cannot handle their stress with grace, who attack the gentle natured. You are attacked because you have self-restraint, a trait often only seen in adults. You are mature beyond your years, although you are still a child. Those bullied are often the "too much" children. They are too clever, too pretty, too kind... The things said to justify the abuse are false. They are excuses and no more. No person can tell you who or what you are, for you build yourself with your own choices, as do they. With every choice to be unkind, they build themselves to be unkind. You're different. That's good. With every choice you make to be kind, you build yourself into a kinder person. Every great person I know was bullied as a child. That which makes you a target now, will make you great in your lifetime. Through sadness we learn empathy, to know how others feel in pain transforms us, and we make ourselves kinder all the more."

She told Daddy. That made me panic. What did he do? What did he say to Mr. Davis? Is Mr. Davis going to punish me more? She said he didn't say anything to Mr. Davis. Not yet, at least. When she told him how I'd been humiliated, he merely told her that he would most certainly take me out of that miserable school. He told her he could not stay to discuss the matter with me just now as he had to prepare for Uncle George’s charity gala he’s attending tonight, but he will as soon as I get up and have my breakfast tomorrow. It’s a school night, but Fanny and I don’t have to go. He still expects us in bed at the usual time, though.

November 1925

Daddy told me this morning after breakfast that I won’t have to go to school anymore. He was looking at other options for Fanny too, but Fanny is gonna stay because she likes it there, has friends, and is a good student. Her teachers are nice to her, but Daddy says he’ll pull her out too if he ever gets even a whiff of trouble like he did with me. He says he's gonna teach me out of books and things. He says it'll be better for me. But everybody goes to school. I don't. Not anymore. Maybe I can't ever go anywhere. Maybe I’ll just have to stay home all the time.

You sat alone in your painting room in the attic. You could hear your parents below, but didn’t pay attention to what they were saying until you heard your name. You stopped painting and listened, suddenly apprehensive. Though you couldn’t see your parents, your mother sounded troubled by what your father had told her.

“We’ll talk to her about it tonight.”

“You think that’s enough?”

“What do you suggest?”

“I could take her to Dr. Jaquith.”

“I don’t think we need to call in the shrink just yet. We already had Dr. Melton examine her. We're not going to keep taking her to doctors until you hear what you want to hear.”

“That’s not what I'm trying to do, Fanny. I want this to work just as much as you do, but there are serious questions that we still don't have the answers to. If the school principal, Mr. Benson, was right about her, then children are getting seriously hurt because of her.”

“Maybe. It still could’ve been an accident. Kids fall off of things all the time. He didn't really believe that our daughter would intentionally hurt another child.”

“He didn’t want to believe it. But he was worried enough to think we should put her in Dr. Jaquith’s care until we found out for sure.”

“For all his good intentions, Mr. Benson is not a trained psychologist. I get what you’re saying and I’m not trying to dismiss or diminish your concerns, Job, I just don’t want to make a bigger deal out of it than it is.”

“The incident at the playground yesterday… It just reminded me of what Mrs. Saunders said. We really don't know that much about her.”

“She had certain suspicions about her and they turned out to be wrong. Dr. Melton told us she’s just going through a phase and that she’ll come out of it on her own. Why can’t you accept that?”

“And what if, down the road, somebody else thinks there is something seriously wrong with her? Somebody like Janie Clarkson? If it’s a dead end, I’ll drop it. But we have to get a second opinion at this point, and Dr. Jaquith is a specialist.”

Fanny considered what Job was saying. She didn’t want to be unreasonable. If you could be helped in the way she wished she could’ve helped Trippy, she’d take that opportunity. She nodded. “All right. See what you can find out.”

“Emily says you pushed her.”

“That’s not true! We were just playing and she tripped! I swear!”

Your father turned to ask Fanny, “Did you see what happened?”

You eyed Fanny expectantly. She hesitated, but eventually said, “It was an accident, Daddy.”

Job sighed, not entirely convinced. The door opened, and Soames appeared in the doorway of the parlor.

You turned on him with extraordinary violence. "Didn’t I give you the strictest orders not to come in?" you cried.

So much violence about so small a thing. Why shouldn’t Soames have come in? The poor man, still obviously in a state of inner turmoil, only wanted to take away the tea. You were their daughter and all that, but the strict orders and the violence did seem rather overstepping the bounds of what you might and might not do. Funny, how everybody and everything was that day. Nothing, since your mother left her bedroom that morning, had been in the least what she was accustomed to. Soames, met by this outburst, hesitated on the threshold. Yes, he had been told not to come in but, after a while, he had found it impossible to stay out. He was much too frightened. The silence, the death-like silence downstairs, had frightened him enough to begin with, but it was nothing to the fright which overwhelmed him when you started screaming blue murder. When you finally exploded, you didn’t go for the pictures or tchotchkes as usual, you went straight for him; pummeling, hitting, kicking, biting. Your father was quick to intervene and break up the distressing scene, grabbing you and pulling you away from Soames while you thrashed and bucked like a wild animal. Your father glanced uneasily across at Soames. This was the final straw. Despite your mother’s reluctance, your father knew he needed to consult with Dr. Jaquith immediately. It couldn’t be put off any longer. He should’ve gone to him months ago, but both he and your mother were still in denial, under the illusion that either you’d grow out of it or they could help you without needing a doctor’s assistance. Dr. Jaquith was a renowned psychiatrist that specialized in working with both children and adults. He’d know what to do, much better than anyone else in the household. Job knew it was time to swallow his pride.

“Fanny, darling, go find Marie and play with her for a while. Soames, call the doctor. It’s too late in the evening now and the last train has gone, but there may still be a late one if he drives into Waterbury. If not, tell him that we need him to get on a train to New York as quickly as he can. We’ll reimburse his travel expenses if we have to. Just get him here,” was all he said, and Soames hastily bowed and turned on his heel, eager to flee the room and follow his Master’s order. Fanny was a bit more hesitant, obviously concerned about you. A part of her wanted to stay but, after staring at you for a few more seconds, she realized her presence wouldn’t help you in this situation, so she left the room to find Marie as she was told to. Hopefully Dr. Jaquith would be here by the day after tomorrow and, until then, Job could find ways to console and calm you down.

“Messy things, pipes. I like them. Mr. Skeffington. Mrs. Skeffington. How do you do? I’m Dr. David Jaquith.”

“Dr. Jaquith. Of course. You’ve taken us by surprise. We weren't expecting you until tomorrow.”

“Yes, there was a mix-up. I had to take an earlier train. I apologize for dropping in on you unexpectedly. I know you may not want me here at this very moment since I’m a day early. If this is a bad time, I can go to my hotel and come back tomorrow.”

“Hotel? Don’t be silly. There’s plenty of guest rooms here. We can have Manby make one up for you. And it’s quite all right, Doctor. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come in, come in. Clinton can take your coat. So long as you help our daughter, you’re welcome under our roof here. We’re happy to have another set of eyes and hands looking after her, but we do hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“How grave you make it sound. Of course, I want you to know that I’m here to help you with anything you need.”

“That’s real kind of you, Dr. Jaquith. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Skeffington. Though I could use a coffee, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Manby, could you make Dr. Jaquith a cup of coffee? Well, thank you for coming, Doctor. Really, we’re honored by the visit of the foremost psychiatrist of the whole country. We think it was pretty sweet of you to come all the way from Vermont to New York. We know that, generally, you don’t come to see people. They go to see you.”

“That’s from lack of time, not from vanity. But the phone call I received from one of your staff - Soames, was it? - sounded very urgent. I had to come in person so I could properly assess the situation and determine for myself if your daughter is an urgent case or not.”

“The people who recommended you said you treat adults, too.”

“That is correct. But I’ve always found children’s minds to be more interesting.”

“What we’d like to know, Doctor, is if you can cure our daughter. Before we end up in a heap of ash.”

“As a psychiatrist, I treat mental and emotional disorders in my patients, and I try to alleviate their condition. I do not presume to cure them. If you don’t mind, I’ll have to ask you and Mr. Skeffington some questions first.”

“Of course. Ask us anything you like.”

“Soames said she’s been throwing inexplicable temper tantrums, that she’s been lashing out violently. How long have these tantrums and acts of violence been going on? Do you have any idea what could have triggered the first episode?”

Job had a flashback to when you were five years old. You pulled the rope next to your bed to ring the bell and call your nanny into the room. You asked her to retrieve him, hoping against hope that he was still awake at such a late hour. You knew he was rarely less than ten steps away. When he arrived you were crying in the corner, sucking your thumb with a teddy bear in your arms. He picked you up and held you, patting you consolingly on the back and combing his fingers through your hair while he paced back and forth around the room as you cried and screamed. At the time, Job thought it had just been a terrible nightmare. But maybe…maybe it was something more. Whatever it was, you just needed to let it out… Surely, if he could find a better outlet for you, then these episodes would stop or, at the very least, decrease in frequency.

“Since she was five years old, she’s had a history of temper tantrums and fits of violence. We didn’t reach out for help sooner because I was often called away on business, Fanny had her own engagements, and we didn’t think it was anything more than the usual temper tantrums and aggressive behavior that come with being a toddler. She was a holy terror but we thought that, with our help, she’d eventually get past it, grow out of it once she reached a certain age. But it’s been over four years and not much has changed. Now she’s nine and hasn’t shown much improvement, despite our best efforts to console and help her. I wish I could be here more but, as a banker and businessman, I’m always being called away without warning and without any say in the matter. As much as I’d like to, I can’t take my daughters with me everywhere I go. I’d much rather be here with her. Although…”

“Mr. Skeffington?”

“It’s just that it hasn’t been very easy for me to talk to her lately. Whenever I called her from abroad while on my business trips, which was at least once a day, she always seemed to fly off the handle for no reason. We’d be talking about the weather or school or something equally innocuous, and suddenly she’d bellow at me and slam the phone down, which doesn’t make sense. My other daughter, Fanny, has always been extremely level-headed and even-tempered. She never gets angry. But with her…”

As Job spoke of you, he mused on you, how you weren’t anything like your sister, but you weren’t like your mother either. You were like him in some ways but oddly, or maybe not so oddly, in many ways, you reminded him of Trippy, Fanny’s brother. Was it possible that you took after him instead? He kept that thought to himself.

“Are you sure you didn’t inadvertently say something…you know, argumentative?”

“I promise you, these rages of hers are totally uncalled for and quite…unbearable. Everyone in this house loves her dearly but…she is making things very difficult. Frankly, talking to her is something we’ve been quite unable to do lately. These temper tantrums of hers make rational discourse well nigh impossible. We’re just about at our wits’ end. We don't know how or why she is the way that she is, but we do know she's a good kid, underneath it all.“

“Maybe she’s just unhappy here.”

“We don’t know why. I mean, she was thrilled to start the new school year and couldn’t wait. Something has changed her. We’re just as bewildered and upset by her behavior as any parent would be.”

“The last doctor that examined her said that aside from a little dry skin, which is not unusual for her, she was perfectly fine,” Fanny interjected.

“I didn’t trust his judgment, Fanny, so I had to get a second opinion from a doctor who wouldn’t be afraid to give us an honest assessment, even if it upset you.” Job turned from his wife to the doctor. “My father used to say that when a child misbehaves, it’s a parent’s duty to correct that child. Now as a father myself, I’m inclined to agree, but… Never mind. You asked for signs and symptoms. The first signs of a tantrum begin with her breath turning from quiet and regular to a panting gasp. She sucks at the air like it’s suddenly become thick and is now almost too difficult to draw in. She becomes deaf to my soothing words, and I’ve had to rapidly back-track on my previously tough stance, offer her more than what she had asked for in the first place. But by then, it’s irreversible. Her next stage is always to smash whatever she can lay her hands on. Fanny and I have seconds to hide everything we care about. Most parents, like my father, would have just held the child down until their energy was spent or they became too big, but I don’t want to do that to her. That’d only frighten her and make an already bad situation even worse. There’s got to be a better way, but… I just don’t know what more I can do for her. I feel like I’ve tried almost everything. Please get to the bottom of this, David. You’re our last hope.”

“She’s just testing us, there’s no doubt about that. But I know we’re doing a good job. Maybe we’re not strict enough with her, but it’s been nowhere near as bad as we expected.”

“I’ll have to be the judge of that, Mrs. Skeffington. Can you describe to me her behavior during these fits? What kinds of things has she been saying and doing? Can you tell me of any incidents that stand out to you?”

“Impertinent. Upsetting rules. Thinks she can run the works. Talking back to me. Purposefully disobeying. I've been going out so much lately that, by the time I get back, I have no energy. I was exhausted after attending a dinner party and said I just wanted to relax...but the banging on the walls and slamming of the door was making it hard for me to unwind. If she would just be quiet for a little bit, everything would be fine. But…”

“Anything else? Mr. Skeffington?”

“Last year, there was the dinner party Fanny and I were invited to by the Cookhams. It was Sunday, the nanny’s day off. We had planned on leaving the girls at home and having George watch them, but something came up at the last minute and he couldn’t. So we brought them with us. Fanny was on her best behavior, but our other daughter hated the dinner we shared. I could hear my parents’ voices in my head, telling me I should probably teach her to eat things she doesn't like. I was forced to eat things I hated when I was a kid, but we were poor. You have no idea how poor.”

“You weren’t actually hungry?”

“My father sold chocolate bars with almond nuts on a pushcart. When he had a good day, we ate meat. When he had a bad day, we ate chocolate bars with almond nuts. The bad days had a slight edge. It had to be done. But then… My brother died of a food allergy when he was young. We couldn’t afford the medicine that might’ve saved him.”

“You remember a lot about when you were a little boy, don’t you?”

“Especially the lack of plumbing. I was afraid that same allergy might’ve passed on to her or Fanny, but I thought that limiting what my daughters did or didn’t eat because of an uncertain possibility could be just as damaging to their eating habits as the allergy itself. The world of medicine isn’t what it used to be when I was their age. It’s evolving every day. I can be thankful for that. There’s medicine and treatment now to cure many food allergies, not to mention safe and controlled allergy tests so that medical professionals can find out what patients are allergic to without putting them at risk. So that’s what I did with her and Fanny. I took them both to get tested, and they both got off scot-free. No allergies detected. With her and Fanny, the only rule I enforced when it came to food was that they had to at least try it first before deciding if they liked something or not. She and Fanny aren’t extremely picky. They’ll eat practically anything you put in front of them. It wasn’t the food that bothered her, but she threw her plate onto the floor, breaking it and making a mess. I had to take her outside, apologizing profusely to everyone, especially the staff.”

“What’s wrong with her? My friends looked annoyed when we left. Our friends, our neighbors… I hear them in the church… They’re whispering about what’s happening in this house. And now certain friends of mine don’t visit as much as they used to. I hope they don’t hate me... She definitely needs some form of discipline, but she still won’t take to it. If I don’t figure something out, I may never see those friends again.”

As a psychiatrist, Dr. Jaquith was always making notes. Not just on paper, but mentally as well. And what he was noting about Fanny’s attitude and priorities was…troubling. Though she didn’t say it, Dr. Jaquith had a feeling that Fanny used you, her daughter, as an excuse to arrive and leave dramatically and make herself the center of attention. Though Dr. Jaquith was a professional and kept his face neutral, he was less than impressed from what he was inferring about the household environment, if the parents were anything to go by. And, in almost all cases, it most definitely was.

“And she dropped some rather vulgar language on me a few days ago. I can’t bring myself to repeat it. It was language that is unbecoming of a lady, especially a Skeffington. I swear, we didn’t teach her to say such things. At first, I thought she could have picked it up anywhere. She probably heard it at school. But this wasn’t something she overheard. She knew what it meant. And the way she said it… I don’t even think she expected to get in trouble over it. If she’s saying it to my face, what’s she saying or doing when we’re not around? We have to be thinking about what kind of influence she’s having on Fanny.”

Dr. Jaquith raised his eyebrows in comic, exaggerated surprise. “No explanation necessary. I don't think there is anything that girl could say that would surprise me. But this is important so I must ask, is she only talking back and disobeying you? Or does she behave the same way with you, Mr. Skeffington?”

“Not with me, no. She’s never once disobeyed or talked back to me, at least…not deliberately. If she ever did either of those things, it was because she was in the middle of an episode and couldn’t hear me or focus enough on my voice to listen to what I was saying, like her body was there but her mind was elsewhere, somewhere far away and beyond reach.”

“I see. Soames mentioned acts of violence. Have there been any incidents where she hurt either herself or another person?”

“Well… A girl she and Fanny were playing with in the school playground got hurt. There were some broken bones.”

A beat. Dr. Jaquith was suddenly apprehensive, but tried to cover by asking, “Really? Is the girl all right?”

“She broke her arm and had to have something like eleven stitches, I think. She was lucky.”

“She doesn’t sound very lucky.”

“She's lucky she didn’t break her neck.”

“She broke that girl’s arm only days ago, and now this! Poor Emily. They had a…small fight. She just pushed her, but she had a bad fall. I’m so ashamed… Her parents must think we raised a savage.”

Dr. Jaquith seemed troubled by this. “May I meet her?”

“Of course. She’s in her painting room. She adores drawing and painting. Fanny wouldn’t allow her to paint or draw in her bedroom. She was afraid she’d get paint on the carpet or the furniture, so I suggested that perhaps she might like her own area in the house for her art. It was a good compromise. The attic was largely unused, so I had it refurbished and repurposed so she could have her own space to get as messy as her heart desired. I still remember when I first surprised her with it last year…”

Enveloped in darkness and trusting your father as he led you through echoing hallways was something you never imagined you would be doing on what had, so far, been a typical Tuesday. He was brimming with excitement though, and the smile on his face had been so genuine that you had let him tie a silk blindfold over your eyes so he could properly escort you to the surprise. You needed a bit of cheering up and, besides, his anticipation was catching. Well, that and the fact that his hand wrapped tightly and comfortingly around yours was sending little sparks of electricity that you knew to be excitement throughout your body.

“There’s a ladder here, darling. Watch your step. I’ll be right behind you in case you slip, but no peeking!”

Despite being blindfolded, you realized you were going up to the attic. You’d gone up there many times before, usually after school. It was your safe space, your tower. The temptation was so strong, but you refrained from peeking. If your father went to so much trouble to make something special for you, you didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

“Excuse me, darling. I just need to reach over you to open the door.”

You bit your lower lip to conceal a grin, one eyebrow arched above the blindfold. You felt your father’s chest pressed against your back as he reached an arm over and past you. You heard a door latch turn, and the creak of hinges.

“Okay. You can step forward, darling. The attic is just there. One more step.”

Once you climbed up and your feet touched the familiar wooden flooring, you walked a few paces forward to give your dad enough space to follow behind you. You had stopped and waited. "Can’t I take this off now?"

“Not yet. I told you, I want this to be a surprise.” Once again his hand slipped into yours, your fingers interlacing easily and naturally. He squeezed your hand and drew you forward. Immediately you were assaulted with familiar smells…but weren’t able to place them.

“Now?”

“Impatient girl,” he chided, tweaking your nose. “Not yet!”

He moved away, letting go of your hand, and you could hear the rustle of fabric. The darkness around you grew a tad brighter, as if he had opened curtains to let the sunlight in. You couldn't hide your smile. “Now?” You felt him loosening the knot at your nape, his energy rolling down your spine like a physical being. The blindfold loosened.

“Okay…now,” he said, and slid the silk away from your eyes.

Immediately you gasped, a hand fluttering up toward your mouth, changing its mind, and then settling against the base of your throat in amazement. Golden sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the twenty easels that stood guard over hundreds of pristine canvases, all waiting for an artist. Tall tables, regular tables and low tables were placed casually around the room, piled high with every medium on the face of the earth, oil paints, watercolors, charcoal, pencils, inks, acrylics, woodblocks, stained glass, beads, and brushes that ranged in width from the size of a Hoover vacuum cleaner to the size of a pinhead. In addition, stacked neatly along one wall were sketch books; two pieces of light shale wrapped in cotton with pieces of vellum and parchment sandwiched between. Everything you would ever need. A small platform with candles placed strategically around it for a model to pose from, and drop cloths in perfect rolls swinging from a hammock that was suspended from the cathedral-like ceiling. Tears glistened in your eyes as you walked slowly around the room.

“I don't believe it…I've never seen so much…in my whole life!” you said, awed and unable to find all of your words.

Your father saw the mixture of tears and happiness on your face and smiled nervously. “Does this please you?”

You beamed at him over your shoulder. “Yes, oh, yes!”

“Then it is yours,” he said.

No one had ever given you something so wonderful, so perfect for you. You rushed to him, taking his hands in yours and, without thinking, rose on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, thank you so much, Daddy!”

In surprise, he turned his head slightly towards you, questioning to himself if this was indeed the same angry and violent little girl who was responsible for that horrid playground incident. But you were so overwhelmed with joy that you didn't notice. In the span of one second it was no longer his cheek under your mouth, it was your forehead under his lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he locked his arms around your back, and you held each other in a warm hug as you both cried tears of joy and maybe relief. You lowered your head, blushing furiously and unable to meet his eyes, as if you suddenly came to your senses and were embarrassed by your emotional outburst. One hand rose to cup your chin, and lift your face to him. He was as cool and refined as ever, and only smiled at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He didn't draw unwanted attention to your own tears, only used his thumbs to stroke your cheeks and wipe your tears away. In this emotional moment, your familial bond grew stronger.

“You’re welcome, my dear.”

“But, Job, painters are not highly thought of in good society. And there is nothing so difficult to marry as a painter, especially one who’s female.”

The statement was so absurd, it snapped Job out of his reminiscent reverie and Dr. Jaquith out of his train of thought.

“Marry?”

“Marry? But, Fanny, she is not yet thirteen. She’s a bit young for us to be thinking of such things.”

“Not now, but someday, I mean.”

Of all the things to take away from what was being discussed about her daughter, Fanny’s main concern was her future marriage prospects. Disappointing? Yes. Surprising? No.

“She’s been really absorbed in her work lately. I thought she might finally be free of her despair, her anger, because she never before felt this inspired. She said she was going to put every last bit of herself into this piece. I found her painting today. It was almost done. While I did in fact encourage her to take up this new hobby, after seeing this piece I… Well, it sickened me. It made me question my own advice. It wasn’t her technique that gave me pause but, rather, her subject matter. She decided to paint two girls jumping off a roof. They looked exactly like herself and Fanny. When I asked her about it, she said they weren’t falling, they were flying without wings and that she’d like to think they left this place for something better. It’s a strange, swirling vortex painted in dark watercolors. My head throbs when I look at it.”

“Won’t she be coming down?” Dr. Jaquith asked as he stood up.

Mr. Skeffington followed suit. He took Dr. Jaquith’s arm and lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “It might be better if you went up. She’s a bit upset. There was a little trouble here this morning.”

Dr. Jaquith gave Mr. Skeffington a quick look. “What kind of trouble?”

Mr. Skeffington was quick to follow up with, “Nothing serious.”

Dr. Jaquith and Mr. Skeffington could hear humming coming from down the hall or, to be more precise, above it. They followed the humming to a room that was overhead. The ladder was already down, so Mr. Skeffington climbed the rungs. “Wait here a moment. She doesn’t let just anyone come inside, so I have to clear a path for you, tell her you’re a friend and can be trusted. She doesn’t trust easily.”

“Of course. I’ll wait here.”

You sat staring at the unfinished painting on your easel, willing yourself to just bring your brush down to it, to feel inspired, to feel anything other than numb. But instead of adding to your creation, you sighed and brought your brush to the cup of water. You watched as the colors stained the water red until nothing was left on the brush but the taupe of the pokey bristles. Lately you'd been feeling like the brush, like all the color had been drained out of you. This feeling wasn't foreign. Sometimes you felt stagnant, letting moments pass you by. Being there but not being a part of them, at least not how you wanted to be. From the floor below, your father knocked on the attic trapdoor in a unique rhythm. A secret code to tell you that it was him. Your humming stopped.

Dr. Jaquith could hear a little girl’s voice telling Mr. Skeffington to come in. As he waited, he could hear your father talking to you.

“What’ve you got there? Are you drawing something?”

“Nothing special. I’m just bored.”

“How’s it coming?”

“All right.”

“What’s it supposed to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you mind if I join you? What’s the title of the painting?”

“I don’t know.”

“Darling, I hope you won’t mind, but I’ve brought someone to come and meet you today. He’s my very good friend, Mr. Jaquith. I ran into him on the street and brought him by for tea. I thought your mother and sister would be pleased, and I hoped you would be too. I’ve told him what a bright and talented girl you are, and he would very much like to meet you. May he come up? He’ll help you to paint. That is, if you don’t mind. Of course, some people prefer to do a painting alone.”

“I guess… If he’s your friend, Daddy, then that would be okay.”

“Wonderful! You can come up now, David.”

Given the all clear, Dr. Jaquith climbed the ladder to the attic. Light slanted in from a big-window, shining on you, a little girl in blue jean overalls and a striped shirt. You hated skirts and dresses since you were old enough to walk. Before that, ever since you were born, you’d always take off the bows and headbands your mother tried to put on your head or in your hair. Since your parents were always too busy, and Uncle George couldn’t be trusted to be knowledgeable when it came to girl’s fashion, Miss Brook often took you and your sister, Fanny, shopping, especially in the summer when a new school year was about to begin. But for you, it never went well. Trying to get you to conform to what was socially acceptable for a girl to wear was like pulling teeth. As you and your sister looked through racks of children's clothes, Miss Brook pulled a dress with flowers embroidered on the pockets. The material would be perfect for playing outside, while looking very stylish and pretty. But you scrunched your face in disgust and shook your head.

“This is cute,” she insisted.

“Dresses are ugly.”

“But, sweetie, you have to have something you can play outside in.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to look like a doll.”

As unconventional as it was, you spent most of your time in trousers. Girls often teased and bullied you for “dressing and acting like a boy” and called you mean names.

And there you sat in front of an easel, all alone, painting another extraordinary picture. Dr. Jaquith watched, curious. You ignored him and your back was to him, so he couldn’t see your face, just your hair messily pulled back, strands of it coming loose from your shoddy attempts at tying it back with a bandana or hair tie. It spilled down a bit over your shoulders and clung to the back of your neck, but so long as it didn’t get in your eyes, it didn’t bother or distract you. You never learned how to properly do your hair. Your mother tried to teach you, but you were stubborn and refused to learn, believing it to be a waste of time. She gave up on teaching you the importance of a beauty regimen quite early on. The paintbrush froze mid-stroke as you turned to face him, as if you suddenly decided you were ready to acknowledge his presence in your space. Like your sister, you had pale skin and bright, doe-like eyes, your delicate features framed by Shirley Temple curls. Yours was the face of a porcelain angel, a perfect little living doll, friendly and inviting.

“Why, what’s this? Did you do these? Are these paintings all yours?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Well, the point is how you could. They’re really professional. Do you mind if I look at them?”

“No, I don’t mind. They aren’t very difficult. Daddy gets the paints and materials from New York, so I have the tools. It’s just a matter of the doing.”

“And the skill. You know, this is very good detail. I have a great admiration for people who are clever with their hands. I was always so clumsy with my own.”

“I should think you were the least clumsy person I’d ever met. Do you really like them? Really, really?”

“Very much. They’re remarkable. Where did you learn how to do this?”

“I’ve just had lots of time to practice, I guess. My unfulfilled ambition is to paint a great many things, to tell stories about my adventures. I do know a thing or two about pirates.”

“What adventures?”

“I’ve yet to have them, but they will be perfectly thrilling. My paintings are stories that come from my imagination. This one’s about a sad mother wolf who can’t find her cubs. She’s dreaming about her babies. It’s the only thing that makes her happy.”

“Well, I hope she finds them.”

“She will. Look.” As you spoke, you dabbed your brush and painted little wolf cubs curled up in front of their sleeping mother. “They were lost in the jungle and they were so scared because they didn’t have a mother or father. But just when they thought they’d be alone forever, they found their mother sleeping under this tree. And they felt so safe that they fell asleep too. Now when the mother wolf wakes up, her dream will have come true. She’ll have her family again. Isn’t it lovely? Look at my new paintings.” You took Mr. Jaquith’s hand and led him around the room, eagerly showing him your other paintings.

He noticed a gothic mansion in several of your older paintings. “Is that a real place?”

“No. I just made it up. It’s a haunted castle where a beautiful princess was locked away. She waited so long and was so sad that she filled the moat with her tears, but then a handsome prince swam across it and rescued her. I like happy endings. Don’t you? I’ve even done a portrait for everyone in the family. And a painting of everyone together. Come see!”

The painting of your family was indeed extraordinary. You were all smiling and holding hands. But Dr. Jaquith couldn’t help but notice that your mother was missing from it. It was just your father in the middle, with you and your sister on either side of him.

While you were looking elsewhere, Job tapped Dr. Jaquith on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, “I wish she would have drawn her mother as well...”

In an equally hushed tone, Dr. Jaquith said, “Maybe she doesn’t realize she is part of your family?” He then turned to you and said in a normal volume, “That’s one good-looking family you’ve got.”

“I know. Aren’t they perfect?”

“You know, these are excellent.”

“You may have one if you like.”

“May I? Any one?”

“Of course. All except this one.” You took a ruined canvas off its easel and put it off to the side. “When I was working on it, my mother sent for me. My brush slipped and I spattered paint on it.”

“A pity to ruin such a nice painting.”

“Yes. I’ll get you something to wrap it in.”

“Oh, don’t bother.” But it was too late. You were already rummaging through drawers for brightly colored tissue paper. “Well, then any old piece of paper will do.”

While your back was turned, Dr. Jaquith and your father shared an amused look. Once you haphazardly wrapped the painting in pink tissue paper, you handed it to him with a big smile, showing off your baby teeth, though some looked to be missing or growing in. The tooth fairy had paid you a visit or two, it seemed. You then took him by the hand and led him from easel to easel. Dr. Jaquith saw all that you were working on, including the pencil and charcoal sketches pinned to your wall. In most of your paintings, you had captured the subject perfectly, but there was nothing special about them, nothing to show your personality, your personal touch.

“These are perfect copies of reality. But painting is not about replicating the world, it’s about interpreting it, improving on it, showing something you see.”

“Can you help me with my painting? Daddy said you might.”

Dr. Jaquith grabbed a blank canvas and set it on the easel in front of you and handed you a palette of paints and a brush. “Here, try looking from a new perspective, a different approach. Try to imagine something that doesn’t exist. Something you’ve never seen. Now, concentrate…on how it makes you feel…and let your hand drift across the canvas.”

You looked down at the palette of paints and your brush, then to the white canvas in front of you, waiting to be colored in. You dabbed your brush into the paint and closed your eyes, and just let your imagination guide your hand. You didn’t think too hard about it. In fact, you didn’t think about much at all. You just painted what you felt, what you questioned about yourself. Your identity…anger, doubt, hope, pain, sadness, belonging…who were you? What was hiding deep down inside you, just waiting to come out? When you opened your eyes, you took in your creation. Your masterpiece. It was almost done, but there were still some things missing.

“Give me more blue, please!” When you held out your palette, Dr. Jaquith did as you requested, grabbing a tube of blue paint and squeezing some out. “Thanks! Now, can you give me some red?” Again, he fulfilled your request. But the bottle of red paint was nearly empty and made a sputtering noise as he squeezed out what little was left. It wasn’t enough for you. You needed more to complete your creation. “More red, please!”

“I’m afraid the red is all out. Maybe you could use magenta or orange instead?”

“Out?…But…But we can’t be out.”

“It’s okay, you can ask your father for more and—”

“You’re hiding more red from me... I know you are.”

“I’m n—”

“GIVE IT HERE!”

And suddenly you snapped and lunged at Dr. Jaquith with teeth bared and nails out. But you were grabbed and held back by your father before you could make contact with your intended target. You were like a feral wolverine as you fought against his hold, foaming at the mouth and ready to bite or claw at anyone who came too close. You were desperate to make Dr. Jaquith bleed if it meant you could get your precious red paint. As you kicked and screamed, you accidentally kicked the light switch off, shrouding the attic in total darkness. While your father was about to turn the light switch back on, he stopped. Dr. Jaquith did too. The paintings they saw… The mother wolf and her sleeping cubs… The cubs were now dead and the mother's mouth was dripping with blood. The paintings that looked like typical family portraits in normal light were now nightmarish visions of death and violence. In one, your eyes had been gouged out. In another, your throat had been slashed. In the picture of the whole family, you and Fanny and your father looked normal, but your mother appeared in the background, only visible under darkness, and she was a decomposed corpse. You stopped fighting, but your father didn’t notice. He was frozen. He staggered back in shock, still holding you, while Dr. Jaquith just looked at you, expressionless. The telephone rang, startling all of you.

While you were sitting by yourself in a corner and curled up in a ball, the doctor said to Mr. Skeffington, “A violent temper is often the result of trauma brain architecture, which is a form of developmental mental illness. It can be fixed with a bouquet of coping strategies, from a calmer environment, to exercise and talk therapies. Music, dance, and the expressive arts are all wonderful for gaining good insights into the self. We can expand positive role models via movies or stage plays, because this is how we dream together, expanding the healing power of dreams into the community. We need to see the temper as a symptom and really tackle the cause, the need to develop a healthier brain, with multiple solutions at once.”

Later, you weren’t sure exactly how much later, you had calmed down and were suddenly very remorseful for your outburst. You apologized to Mr. Jaquith immediately, but were very afraid that he wouldn’t accept it. You didn’t mean to snap. You didn’t want to hurt Daddy’s friend. You didn’t want to hurt anyone. You just…you didn’t know. You didn’t know why you said the things you said, thought the thoughts you thought or did the things you did. It was like you blacked out and someone or something else took control of your body.

“Of course I accept your apology, Miss Skeffington. I’ve worked with many children just like you, so I know you didn’t mean to do it, that you couldn’t help it. I know it’s scary, even for you. But I promise that, through it all, I’ll still be your friend.”

What did he mean he’s worked with other children just like you? Was he a teacher? Or was he a doc…? You suddenly became apprehensive, unsure if you could trust a word he said. “My friend?”

“Yes. And since we’re friends, I wonder if I might ask you a favor. Would you be nice and show me around this house? You must be an expert and know this house in and out. One doesn't often get the chance. Yes, that's right, I had a look at the downstairs when I came in. There's nothing like these old New York homes anywhere. On Marlborough Street or Beacon Hill, you see them standing in a row like bastions. Firm, proud, resisting the new. Houses turned in upon themselves, hugging their pride.”

“Introverted. That’s what my teachers call me.”

“I wouldn’t know about that. I don’t put much faith in scientific terms. I leave that to the fakers and the writers of books.”

You didn’t take his hand again, wanting to keep him at arm’s length just in case it turned out he couldn’t be trusted after all, but you signaled for him to follow you. You climbed down the ladder, and Dr. Jaquith and your father followed. Your father was smart on his feet and quickly made an excuse to leave so he could give you and Dr. Jaquith some much needed one-on-one time. It’d be better if Dr. Jaquith got a chance to know you, the real you, without him lingering over your shoulders. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a mass of letters to write and phone calls to make before lunch. I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, I’ll be in the library. Darling, please be a good girl for Mr. Jaquith while you show him around.”

As soon as your father left, you turned to face Mr. Jaquith. You suddenly eyed him skeptically, suspecting he wasn’t a Mister at all. The ruse fooled you at first, but you wouldn’t let it go on any longer. You were keenly perceptive, far more than most children your age. “I know who you really are.”

“You do? Who am I?”

“You’re not Daddy’s friend. You’re my new doctor.”

“No, I’m not. You’re quite wrong.”

“You can’t fool me. And I know why you’ve come here. To make sure I don’t run away from this place again.”

“Did you run away from here once? I didn’t know. Where were you headed when you ran away?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here, I guess.”

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name. That’s why you stood there and stared at me.”

“That was very rude of me. But, you see, you reminded me of somebody.”

“Who?”

“Well, if you must know…my wife, Charlotte. Of course, at your age. You’re about eleven, aren’t you?”

“I’m nine...nearly ten. You know my name, but what’s yours?”

“David.”

You nodded once then continued giving Dr. Jaquith a tour. “My mother’s room.”

“And your father’s also?”

“No.” The conviction with which you said the word made Dr. Jaquith raise an eyebrow.

“Your parents sleep separately?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why?”

“They just do. It’s always been that way. I don’t want to talk about this. What difference does it make anyway?”

Clearly you didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so Dr. Jaquith let the matter drop. But already he was making mental notes.

“Fine room.”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course, I’d prefer to see what your room is like. Is it nearby?”

“I’m not your patient yet, Doctor.”

“Well, now, nobody thinks you ever will be. I’ve seen the rooms of lots of people who aren’t my patients. My friends. Of course, if you don’t want to...”

“It’s on this floor, down the hall.” You then brought Dr. Jaquith to your room. You stopped sharing a room with Fanny when you were six years old. You took out a key. “She locks her door, Doctor. Make a note of it. Significant, isn’t it?”

“Well, it signifies that it’s your door. I never heard it said that a girl’s home is not her castle.”

“My castle, Doctor.”

“You know, stuff like this was built to last a lifetime. Solid.”

“Enduring and inescapable.”

“Are you comfortable here?”

“I try to be. I’m here a good part of the time. It’s so boring here.”

“You don’t play outside with the other girls in the neighborhood? Sounds like they’re having fun.”

A beat. You were hesitant. “I don’t like playing with the other girls. I like going outside, but…the other girls and Fanny usually prefer to stay inside. That way they don’t get their dresses dirty.”

“Well, that’s very responsible of them, but couldn’t they find something else to wear when playing outside?”

“No. Image is everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. But I hear Mother and the other ladies say it a lot.”

“What about at school? Don’t you play then?”

“I don’t go to school anymore. I’m homeschooled. When I used to, sometimes during recess, Fanny and I played amongst ourselves or we split off and she played with the other girls while I played with the boys. They weren’t afraid to get dirty and were much more fun.” You knew many things that boys talked about. You played more with boys than with girls, and liked them better. You were a picture of energy and aggressiveness. You were common, but with a frank and engaging commonness. “The girls were prissies.”

“Upon my soul, how children are educated nowadays. Where did you learn that word? It’s not a very nice word.”

“I’m afraid I am not learned at all, Doctor. It’s true! They were all cowards. They were boring and just played with their ugly dolls and lame dollhouses. Dolls are ugly and stupid, and sometimes creepy. I don’t know why Fanny liked playing with the girls. They were stuck-up. Total snobs. They thought having the most popular or most expensive doll made them better than other girls. Karla and Jessica showed off their Princess Eliana dolls. During recess, Katie couldn’t play with them because she only had the Dearly Doll. She liked her Dearly Doll, but she thought Princess Eliana was really pretty and wanted to play with them. But they told her to go away. They wouldn’t let girls who didn’t have the same dolls play with them. I didn’t get why. Those girls were dumb and they made up dumber rules. I didn’t think it was fair for some girls to have plenty of lovely things and other, prettier girls to have nothing at all. Fanny’s too prim. If she doesn’t take care, she’s going to grow up and be an affected little goose.”

“Aren’t there any boys in this neighborhood you could play with?”

“No, there aren’t. So I stay inside. I want to explore the woods, but Mother wouldn’t like it if I tracked mud and dirt into the house, so Marie doesn’t let me go beyond the park. But there’s nothing to do at the park. I’m not even allowed to climb trees. I'm just different from everyone, I guess.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being different.”

“Yes, there is. Everybody says there’s not, but it isn’t true.”

“I’m just saying you could probably go outside and make friends, if you really wanted to.”

“I don’t care what they think. If I’m sad or lonely, I just come to the attic and paint a story with a happy ending and when people say they like my paintings, like you did, it makes me feel better. I think people should always try to take the bad things that happen to them and turn them into something good. Don’t you?”

Dr. Jaquith was taken aback. Before he could respond, your father came back.

“How is everything?”

The two men shared a look and gave a subtle nod to each other. Dr. Jaquith had seen enough. It was clear to him that you were a very precocious child and could be sweet at times, but that you’d need to spend a considerable amount of time at Cascade. Weeks, maybe even months depending on how you progressed. You definitely had spunk. A Skeffington needed that to get along in the world, but you needed to learn there were better times than others for it. Though they both knew you’d take it very hard and that it was going to be a big and scary change for you, it really was for the best, for your own benefit. Now was the time to tell you their decision.

“Your father has told me much about you. Both he and your mother have told me a great number of things, some good and some…not so good. What your mother and father have described to me, and what I’ve seen for myself, your latest peculiarities...your fits of crying, your secretiveness...indicate you’re on the verge of a mental meltdown.”

“I’m not melting down!”

“Now, nobody said you were. Not definitively, at least. But your uncontrollable fits of anger and violence, your lashing out is—”

“What Dr. Jaquith is saying, darling, is this is why we worry about you. We have given this a great deal of thought. Darling, believe me, we’re only trying to help you. Dr. Jaquith has a sanitarium in Vermont, I believe. Cascade has an excellent reputation. He’s suggested you spend a few weeks there.”

“A sanitarium? But that’s a terrible place, everyone says so! It's like a jail! Probably one of those places with a high wire fence and yowling inmates. If I go with him, he’ll drive an ice pick through my skull! I’ll be a vegetable!”

“Well, now, I wouldn’t want anyone to have that mistaken notion. Cascade is just a place in the country. People come to it when they’re tired. You go to the seashore. They come there. What you’re describing is called a lobotomy, a procedure that went out of fashion years ago and isn’t practiced anymore. At least not by any reputable doctors who still have their license to practice medicine. I promise you, you won’t be subjected to inhumane experiments. I’m a psychiatrist, not a mad scientist. I only want to help you.”

“But I’m not sick! I’m not a bad person, I’m really not! Daddy, tell him! Tell him I’m perfectly fine and don’t need to go!”

You looked close to tears and Job felt something tear at his heart, but he was determined.

“Of course you’re not a bad person. But, darling, sickness can present itself in many different forms. It’s not always a fever or common cold. There are people, both children and adults, who are afflicted with sicknesses of the mind. Now, while Dr. Jaquith may not be able to cure you, he can help you manage your anger, if you let him.”

“No! I won’t go! The other children will laugh at me! I’ll be the local failure! I’ll just die from shame! I’ll just die! I’ll just die!”

“Darling, please don’t dramatize!”

“There’s nothing shameful about my work or frightening or anything else. It's very simple, really, what I try to do. People come to a fork in the road. They’re confused. They don’t know which way to take. I just put up a signpost: ‘Not that way. This way.’"

“Girls emerge from there as refined young ladies well-versed in etiquette and manners, both of which you are sorely lacking. There’ll be girls and boys there that are around your age and just like you. Maybe you’ll even make friends with some of them.”

“But I don’t want to be one of those girls.”

Your mother entered the room, curious as to what was causing so much commotion. “Which is precisely why you must go. I cannot let your unbridled nature ruin your chances for a respectable future. Remember your courtesies, young lady. You will thank us for this. A lady, especially a Skeffington, needs to know how to control her temper!”

“Fanny, please.” Though she meant well, her presence and comment certainly weren’t helping. Your father turned to you with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, but we have to do what’s best for you, sweetheart. You’ll be angry with me at first, but you’ll see that this is for your own good!”

“I won’t do it. I’m not like those girls. I won’t go! I won’t go!” You fumed and angrily threw objects across the room, uncaring if they were breakable or not.

“Dr. Jaquith, could you leave us for now? I and the servants will get her all packed and ready to go and we’ll meet you outside within the hour. If you could just wait for us in the foyer?”

Forty-five minutes later, your bags were packed. Dr. Jaquith walked out to his car, concerned as he helped Soames load your bags into the trunk. He didn’t see you spying down from your bedroom window, just staring at him with that strange, blank look. Five more minutes passed, and Dr. Jaquith, your father, and yourself were in the car and on your way to the train station. You turned around in the backseat and looked out the window as Uncle George, Fanny, your mother, and the servants watched you go and waved goodbye. You put on a smile and waved back, but once the car pulled out of the drive, your smile faded. You seemed vaguely troubled as Dr. Jaquith drove, your father in the front passenger seat. You didn’t pay attention to their conversation. You were too deep in thought. Even when the three of you were on the train, you didn’t say a word the entire ride. Neither your father nor Dr. Jaquith pushed you too hard after their first attempts at engaging with you and making conversation failed. They realized you were still angry at them and giving them the silent treatment. They knew they wouldn’t get a word out of you while you were like that, so they let you be. You only focused on either looking out the window or drawing in your sketchbook.

Once you arrived at Cascade, Dr. Jaquith gave you and your father a tour of the facilities.

“The exercise room is over here. The music room is down the hall. The dormitories are upstairs, and you may have seen the playground. You look as if you like playing outdoors.”

Patients, both children and adults, were sitting on benches and sunning themselves, swinging on swings, playing games and sports, etc. So many patients were smiling and seemed to be having fun and enjoying themselves. It really was a beautiful place. It wasn’t at all what you thought it would be, nothing like the horror stories you heard, but you still didn’t want to be there. Your father stayed for a few hours to ease you into being there. He knew the transition would be uncomfortable at first, but he couldn’t stay forever. When it came time for him to leave, you cried and clutched onto him, begging him not to go. You didn’t care if you were making a scene. You didn’t care if people were staring at you. You were afraid. Deathly afraid. You didn’t want to be abandoned and left all alone here, surrounded by people you didn’t know. It was only when your father promised you that he’d write every week and call you every day that you relinquished your hold on him.

“Promise me you’ll be a good girl and try to make friends while you’re here?”

“I-I’ll try,” you hiccuped. You did your best to cease your crying and put on a brave face.

Your father nodded. Trying was better than nothing, and he was proud of you for wanting to make an effort. “If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to call,” he told both you and Dr. Jaquith.

“We will.”

Your father shook hands with Dr. Jaquith before giving you one last hug and kiss on your forehead. Then he was gone.

A violent temper in the home harms the developing brain of the child in the same way as combat harms a soldier. Their PTSD is massively under-diagnosed. Additionally, such emotional harm influences the expression of over nine-hundred genes via epigenetic toward poorer health - survival mode over longevity. The child learning to cope with their own stress in positive ways through meditation, mindfulness, and self-awareness could be the most important thing Job and Fanny could do as parents.

At the end of your lesson, you were fuming at the nurse who doubled as your teacher. Your head pounded and your eyes were sore from constantly staring at the page. You left as soon as the lesson ended. You never wanted to see your nurse ever again. In fact, you would run away from the sanitarium and make your father miss you so much that he would find you and have to take you back home. That would really show him. You loved your father like none other, but he could be stiff at times. He was a great businessman and banker, you reminded yourself, and he was Jewish, which meant he was held to different standards than most men, though you didn’t understand why. Why did it matter if you could or couldn’t read? You would, in all likelihood, get married to a handsome and intelligent man when you were older, and you’d manage the house while your husband managed the money and signed all the important papers, just like Mother and Daddy did. Miss Trask tried to get you to do your homework, but you just ran away from her. You could hear her calling after you, but you didn’t listen and kept running. She couldn’t keep up and you left her in the dust as you ran and ran and ran until you reached your sanctuary. Here, you could be alone, enjoy peace and quiet as you listened to the sounds of nature. You climbed one of the trees and tried to forget all about your lesson by doodling in your sketchbook. You didn’t have any particular live subject. You just let your imagination run free and drew whatever came to mind, like how Dr. Jaquith showed you to do when you first met. Here you could lose track of time. You could stay here for hours, even as the sun set and the sky began to darken. You’d stay in the great outdoors forever if you could.

There was a quick, rapid knock on the door, and Dr. Jaquith looked up, frowning. Everyone knew not to disturb him when he worked on his patients’ documents. It must’ve been something important. He called for them to enter. It was Miss Trask, one of the nurses.

“Dr. Jaquith,” she began. Then she stopped talking.

“Yes?” he said, looking straight at her. “You came into my office during a critical time. Clearly you have something important to tell me.” Dr. Jaquith could see her swallow away the lump in her throat. His fingers drummed the desk, and he glanced at the stack of documents on it.

“Sir, it’s about Miss Skeffington.”

When Miss Trask said your name, Dr. Jaquith’s attention was immediately piqued. His stomach dropped. He wanted to swallow nervously just out of habit, but refrained from doing so. Oh, God, what happened this time? He thought you had been doing so well in your therapy sessions, but he knew that slip-ups and relapses into old habits could still happen. You’ve had them before. After all, this was a long process and progress wouldn’t be obvious right away. But did you do something as bad as break another kid’s arm again? Or something worse? Miss Trask, though, couldn’t tell his mind was going a mile a minute with worrying, for he kept his same stoic expression. A perfect mask of impassivity that took over a decade of hands-on experience to perfect.

“She’s not doing well in any of her classes. She’s failing almost everything except for P.E., and is especially struggling with her reading. I’ve been doing my best to help her, but she’s being stubborn and won’t cooperate. Now she’s run away again. I tried to chase her, but she was too fast and slippery.”

“Oh, dear. Again? Not to worry, I know where she is. I’ll see to her now. Thank you, Miss Trask. You may go.”

She nodded and left the room.

Dr. Jaquith looked over at the pile of documents on his desk. He had managed to finish the bulk of them, and had hoped he’d be able to finish them all, but it looked like they’d have to wait until tomorrow. He had to see to you, see what the trouble was right then. If Miss Trask personally came to his office to seek out his help instead of that of another nurse or Dr. Brine, it must’ve been more than serious. It must’ve been an emergency. Unlike his paperwork, you unfortunately couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He left his office, giving only a nod of acknowledgement or a quick but polite “Hello” or “Good Afternoon” to the patients and staff he passed by as he walked briskly through the sanitarium. Not wanting to alarm anyone unnecessarily or look unprofessional, he refrained from running or sprinting, but his pace was fast enough to signal to people that he had somewhere to be and couldn’t be bothered to slow down or stop for even a moment. He went through the gardens, then followed a dirt trail in the woods for about five minutes. It was technically outside the bounds of the grounds of Cascade, but was still safe. It was a perfect place where you could wander, explore, climb up trees…you could do almost anything there. Sure enough, Dr. Jaquith found you seated on a low yet sturdy tree branch of one of the larger trees. You looked to be sketching, so deep in thought that you didn’t hear his approaching footsteps. He cleared his throat so as to alert you to his presence without startling you too much. He didn’t want to make you jump and fall out of the tree. You weren’t very far off the ground, but you could still hurt yourself if you fell.

Your heart stopped. You turned to look at him and, seeing him standing there, it was as if you realized the danger you were in with his arrival. You swung your legs over and jumped off the branch and to your feet, smoothed your clothing and stood before him. Even though he grinned at you, you felt a shiver pass up your spine. You had been more than a little frightened of him.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I thought you might.”

“Miss Skeffington, does Miss Trask know that you are skipping your lessons to go wandering in the woods by yourself?” He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from you. “Why aren’t you in your lesson, Miss Skeffington?” he asked, cutting to the point.

“I don’t like my nurse. She’s a boring tutor.”

“You’re learning to read, amongst other important life skills. Lots of children your age don’t get that opportunity. Someday you will thank me for everything I’ve done for you,” he said.

You glared up at him. “I just don’t like reading. I’m not good at it, and I can’t do it. No matter how hard I try, I don’t understand the letters.”

“Is that so? Have you told Miss Trask?”

The mention of that odious woman gave you flashbacks to your lessons with her and no matter how much you tried to forget it by coming here as some form of escapism, the memory of your horrid experience with her just minutes ago was brought to the forefront of your mind.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as Miss Trask entered your room.

“You need to study outside of your lessons,” she said firmly. “Where are your books?”

“I just got out of my lesson! I need a break!” you cried.

“Your mind is sharpest right after a lesson,” she said. “Do you want to learn to read or not?”

“I don’t want to learn!” you snapped. You had crossed a line, and you knew it.

Miss Trask’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You will read those books, Miss Skeffington, and I won’t ask you again,” she said in a low voice. “Your father went to a lot of trouble to get you treatment and an education here. You wouldn’t want to disappoint your father, would you?”

“No…”

A determined look flashed across Miss Trask’s face. “There was a boy that was like you. He was angry with me too, but now he can read. Ever since, I thought this might happen again with another child… and it looks to me like that child is you.”

“And how did he learn how to read?”

“I sat him down with me for three hours each day, which is exactly what I’ll do with you.”

“Miss Trask!” you cried.

She cut you off. “Be quiet. Don’t dramatize.”

“But three hours!”

“I expect you downstairs with your book in five minutes.”

You shrunk back, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape your eyes. You hated disappointing your father. He was your hero. But Miss Trask just didn’t understand how hard it was for you to read! You watched as she left the room. You didn’t move for a moment and, when she was gone, you threw your easel against the wall. You picked up the book and tried to read it, determined to show both Miss Trask and your father, but the more you looked at it, the worse your headache got and you found you just couldn’t do it. You didn’t want to visit Miss Trask, but maybe if you just studied for many hours at once, you could get it all done and over with. Hugging the book, you stomped past your broken easel and out the room. Every step taken was torturous. You really, really did not want to see Miss Trask. What did that old lady know anyways? Why couldn’t Dr. Jaquith have given you a fun nurse to be your teacher? You bet even he himself would’ve been more fun than Miss Trask. She was waiting at the table, but you walked right past her. When she called after you, you ran. You were worried that if you didn’t get away, you’d do something you’d regret. You were sent three hundred miles away to be educated. But what your parents didn't understand was you only wanted to step just outside your fence...so you did.

“I tried, but she just said I’m not working hard enough. But I am working hard! Really, really hard, Dr. Jaquith! I spent two hours looking at the same page, and when Miss Trask asked me to read aloud, I just couldn’t do it,” you argued. “All I do is stare at the page. I know the letters. I see her write them, and I can go through the alphabet. She says my penmanship is wonderful, but when I have to read a word, the letters move around on the page and I can’t make any sense of them!”

Dr. Jaquith nodded, and you were quiet. He had heard of this sort of learning disability before, but it was rare. So rare that not very many teachers had ever personally dealt with it before, or even acknowledged it. You gathered your things that were resting by the base of the tree, including the book that Miss Trask was trying to force you to read. “I’m going to go now, if that’s okay. I don’t like to stay too long in the same place. Dr. Brine might find me.” You made to leave, but Dr. Jaquith’s voice stopped you in your tracks as he turned around to face you.

“Where are you off to now?”

You stared at him, fingers clutching the book. You wanted to run, but you knew you needed to be brave. He wasn't really a monster. He was frightening, but he was still your doctor and he only wanted to help you. Tina Durrance, so far the only child - heck, the only person you befriended - got along with him, and you trusted her judgment. If she could trust him, you probably could too. “I’m going to Miss Trask,” you said shortly. “I’m learning to read.”

“When you said you didn’t understand the letters… Are you mixing up the letters on the page?” Dr. Jaquith asked in a gentle tone.

“Um…” How did he know that was your problem? Did Miss Trask tell him? Or maybe Charlotte did? He was her husband, after all. But Mother and Father were husband and wife too, and they didn’t tell each other much, if anything. Maybe, as your doctor, he just had a way of knowing. Like a sixth sense. “Yes…”

“Just like some children that came before you, or so l hear,” he said. “You don’t need to go to Miss Trask anymore. I’ve already cancelled her. She'd only further bore you to tears with her lessons. It looks like she already has.”

He had a point. More than once you woke up with your face buried in a book. Books were makeshift pillows for you many times. Every time it happened, you panicked slightly but, by the sky outside your window, you knew it wasn’t time for supper yet. You’d always sigh with relief, then pick up the book.

“But I have to learn to read so Daddy will be happy,” you snapped, embarrassed.

“Yes, we must keep your father happy.”

“I need to go.” When you turned away, Dr. Jaquith gently laid a hand on your shoulder, turning you back to face him. You froze, remembering what your classmates had told you about shrinks. Dr. Jaquith looked kind of funny, but could he really be a monster like the inhumane doctors at insane asylums?

“D-Doctor,” you stammered, voice squeaking. You knew you’d been impertinent and were afraid he’d call you on it. You had been acting like you were no longer his patient, like you'd become a member of his staff with how often you tried to test and push boundaries.

“I have a proposition to make to you. Mightn’t Charlotte be your nurse instead? She will teach you to read.”

“Do you really mean it?”

“Well, I’m crazy, but if you promise to behave yourself and not to do anything like what you and Tina did again without asking my permission first.” His tone was final, but soft. It was true he was probably softer with you than most doctors were with children, but it was because you reminded him so much of his dear, sweet Charlotte. “I’d also teach you if I could, but I’m afraid my days are sacrosanct and I don’t have the luxury of the time necessary to properly dedicate to one-on-one lessons. Charlotte, however, doesn’t have anything to do with her time, so she’ll be teaching you instead. She’s read a lot and, like me, she’s even stumbled on some of the studies of the human brain that recorded other children with the same problems you were having.”

“You’d do that? Just for me?”

“Of course. We’re here to help you.”

“So Charlotte is going to be my new nurse?”

“Not just your new nurse. She’ll be your friend, if you’ll have her. She’ll stay with you. Pay attention to you. Make you feel wanted and important. Go back to your room for now. I’ll speak with both Charlotte and the other nurses and doctors about the changes in your scholarly pursuits. You won’t learn to read by supper, I’m afraid. You’ll have to come back each day, but I promise you Charlotte will make it much more painless than Miss Trask’s method. You’ll be reading in no time. Once you learn how to read, a great many worlds will open to you, worlds beyond this one that your imagination wasn’t able to comprehend before.”

Your lips quivered for a moment before breaking into a shy smile. You looked to be on the verge of tears again, but it was happy tears that time. You suddenly hugged Dr. Jaquith and he didn’t know what else to do other than stroke your hair. Though you didn’t say anything, he knew this was your way of thanking him. You gave him one more tight squeeze around his waist before letting go and stepping back.

“You're only on probation. Remember what it says in the Bible, ‘The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.’”

“How does it feel to be the Lord?”

“Not so very wonderful since the Free Will bill was passed. Too little power.”

And then you ran off. He watched you go, slightly amused, but slightly exasperated at your behavior. You were often unpredictable, always keeping him on his toes. He still remembered the day you and Tina skipped your lessons and went to the park to play without permission. That was a big offense, but since you and Tina were both found unharmed and it was the first time either of you had smiled or laughed in days, you were both given only a mild punishment and had to promise Dr. Jaquith that if you wanted to leave the grounds again, you’d have to ask him or a nurse for permission first so you could have a trusted adult to watch you. Maybe he liked your impertinence. Just a smidge. No day at Cascade was ever boring with you around, that was for sure.

You had been visiting Charlotte ever since. With Charlotte as your teacher, you were able to see improvements you never thought possible. Even Miss Trask praised you when you actually read two pages aloud and only had to pause a few times. What really confused you though was that you were actually starting to like your lessons. What would Mother say? Perhaps Father would be happy for you. Charlotte was kind to you and very patient when you made mistakes. She was constantly egging you on, but in a way that showed she really cared.

“You know this word,” she said as you hovered over the same word for over a minute. “You can do it...”

“Elfan... No, that’s not right.” The letters were moving again. “El...eh…Elephant!”

Charlotte applauded you, and you blushed. You then read the full paragraph aloud:

“‘She was a happy little train. Her cars were full of good things for boys and girls. There were all kinds of toy amin…animals. Gir…Giraffes with long necks, teddy bears with no necks, and even a baby el…elph…elephant. There were all kinds of dolls. Dolls with blue eyes and yellow hair, dolls with brown eyes and brown hair, and the funniest toy clown you ever saw. There were toy trucks, airplanes, and boats. There were picture books, games, and drums to play. The little train carried every kind of toy that boys or girls could want.’”

“Wonderful!” She said, “Wonderful! Can you read the next paragraph?”

“‘But that was not all. The little train carried good things to eat, too. Big, round oranges...fat, red apples...long, yellow ban…banan…nana… bananas...fresh, cold milk...and lawl…loli…lollipops to eat after dinner. The little train was taking all these good things to the other side of the mou…mountain.” Your voice went up a notch at the end. You glanced up at Charlotte, praying you'd gotten the paragraph mostly right and, by her smile, you knew you had. And again she applauded you.

“I did it! I’m learning to read, Charlotte! You’re the best!”

You kept improving, and you actually sought out books to try and read. Most of them you couldn't, but you could understand a lot more than you could before. Four days later, you were in yet another lesson with Charlotte. She and Dr. Jaquith no longer frightened you, and the words of the other kids at school seemed to fade from your memory. Those kids had no idea what they were talking about. Charlotte was ever so nice.

June 1926

Today a new girl came to Cascade. Her name is Christine. She is close to my age. Maybe I can be friends with her. I really like her, but I’ve never been good to new people. Nobody else seems to like her, so she must be a really awkward person. That’s okay, because I’m awkward too. I promised Daddy I would try to make friends. I overheard Charlotte and Miss Trask talking about her.

“By the way, her room is next to yours, so you’ll share the same bathroom. Don't be disturbed if you hear her crying. She has spells of it. Just ignore it. It’s one of her little tyrannies, like refusing to eat. Just ignore that too. Only if you could manage to get a little food into her tonight, it would help.”

“I’ll try.”

She was sitting alone at a table, a puzzle in front of her. She wasn’t at all interested in working on it, though.

“How’s it coming?”

“All right.”

“What’s it supposed to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“Here’s the little girl’s other slipper. Do you mind if I join you?” You sat down next to her. “What’s the title of the picture? Oh, ‘The Proposal.’ I’ll collect all the pink pieces, that is, if you don’t mind. Of course, some people prefer to do a puzzle alone. How long have you been at Cascade?”

“Ten days. Nearly eleven.”

“You don’t like it much, do you?”

“No.”

“Neither did I at the end of ten days. The first two weeks are the worst.”

“I shall never like it.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“No.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. My mother doesn’t want me at home. That’s why it’s helping Father for me to be here.”

“My mother doesn’t want me at home either. But Daddy said being here would be good for me. I didn’t believe him at first, but he was right. I stay here for Daddy. I know it’s wrong to have favorites, but I love my daddy more than my mother.”

“So do I.”

Whenever either you or Tina were feeling homesick, Charlotte made you feel better by helping you fall asleep or taking you out for ice cream and letting you call your dads.

“It’s me, Tina. Don’t be afraid. What’s the matter? Oh, Tina.”

“Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t till you’re asleep. Tell me, what’s the matter?”

“I’m ugly and mean, and nobody likes me.”

“You?”

“I’m not pretty in the least. You know I’m not.”

“Well, whoever wants that kind of prettiness, Tina? There’s something else you can have if you earn it, a kind of beauty.”

“What kind?”

“Something that has nothing to do with your face. A light that shines from inside you because you’re a nice person. You think about it. Someday you’ll know I’m right.”

“Will they like me then?”

“Who are they?”

“Everybody. All the kids at school, Miss Trask, and the nurses and the doctors. There must be something awfully wrong with me.”

“Do you like them? The kids at school, and Miss Trask, and the nurses and the doctors?”

“No, I hate them.”

“That’s something else you’ve got to grow up with. If you want people to like you, you’ve got to like people. That’s why Miss Trask asked you to cooperate, and that’s what Dr. Jaquith means when he tells you to play the game.”

“I bet you’re only fooling me.”

“You try it and see. In the meantime, if it’ll help you any, I like you. I think you’re very pretty, and very sweet.”

“All right?”

“All right.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because somebody was good to me once when I needed somebody. Now, go to sleep. Close your eyes and let your muscles go all limp. That’s better. I’ll tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was afraid. A little girl who was afraid because she thought she was alone…”

“Listen, Tina. There’s the telephone booth. And here's my change purse. Do you think your father will be home tonight?”

“You mean I can call him now?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Go ahead.”

“Help me, will you, please? I’m not sure I can run it.”

“Of course.”

“Number, please.”

“Long distance, please.”

“Long distance.”

“I want to put in a person-to-person call to...”

“Jeremiah Duveaux Durrance. Mount Vernon 2940.”

“...to Mr. Jeremiah Duveaux Durrance. Mount Vernon 2940.”

“2940?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Deposit 50 cents, please.”

“All of that?”

Depending on whose turn it was, either you or Tina would sit at the table with Charlotte so whoever was on the phone with their dad could have some semblance of privacy. It was your turn.

“I want to put in a person-to-person call to...Mr. Job Skeffington. Charles Street 2926.”

If Dr. Jaquith was the Lord, then Charlotte was an angel.

Job Skeffington hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few days, in part because the fools over at Wall Street were shortsighted and wouldn’t know whether to buy or sell or invest if common sense slapped them in the face, but mostly because he laid awake at night thinking about you. He had been pouring over documents and filling in terms and conditions and signatures all morning but, after lunch, he found himself again sat in his study, staring at a half-blank page as he tried to draft a letter to you. The postage stamp on your letter was not neatly in the top right-hand corner of the envelope, yet creatively positioned as if its landing place was an act of random joy. Job could only suppose that it was your first attempt at sending your own letter and he found himself smiling as he opened and read it. Never before had putting his thoughts to paper been so difficult. What could he have possibly said to you that he hadn’t already said over the phone?

My dear daughter,

I was sorry to see you in tears when I left. They say we cannot feel the pain of another, but your screams were agony seeping into my skin. I took it in, let myself feel it, and stayed right there to radiate the love I felt for you. Daddy understood - you were crying because you were being left alone. But today I made a discovery - All people are alone in some ways and some people are alone in all ways. Even after someone is grown up, she can be alone.

Dr. Jaquith told me that once you mastered being alone, then you were ready for the company of others. That didn’t make it easy though. When everyone's life journey separated from your own, when the only heart beating in this house belonged to you, it wasn't something most children would be able to take. There were days when your brain became a cold fire. Perhaps that was what others called panic, but when you were alone, who were you going to call? I guess the good news is that, in time, after many unpleasant days, you’ll be okay. Then you’ll find joy again, or maybe it will find you. After that, your journey can change, take on new and exciting adventures… I wish I could wave a cure for you who are alone, but there are some things you must learn the hard way, my love.

He couldn’t get your tear-stained face out of his mind. He didn’t particularly like upsetting his daughter, but he was determined to give you the best life he could. Being a father as well as a banker and businessman could be difficult at times. It was a delicate balancing act, and he worried he’d tip too far to one side. You had been much more rebellious than Fanny, so he at least should have been grateful that he didn’t have to deal with that when it came to her, but it didn’t make having only one daughter at home much easier. It had been two weeks, and while Dr. Jaquith kept him informed, he had to be honest about how you were doing, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He told him that, while you were showing signs of improvement, progress was slow. Though he tentatively suggested two weeks at Cascade, as the two weeks almost came to an end, he told Job that you’d have to remain at Cascade for the foreseeable future, maybe even another year or two. To take you out of Cascade prematurely would only be detrimental to your treatment and everything you’d worked so hard for would be lost. He trusted Dr. Jaquith’s judgment and agreed to keep you there for as long as the doctor saw fit, but that didn’t make him miss you any less. He talked to you on the phone every day, but he regrettably hadn’t been able to come see you at all in the two weeks you’d been away. Just when he thought he could get away, he was pulled back in by something. He couldn’t seem to catch a break from the incessant phone calls, business meetings, and so-called “emergencies” that his partners and associates seemed to find themselves in. Not since Russia had declared war on Germany in 1914 had he witnessed mass-panicking of this magnitude. He was heartsick for you. So was your sister, Fanny. She wrote you letters too and he felt awful that he couldn’t take her with him to visit you yet. He was broken out of his thoughts by his phone ringing.

“Hello? Yes? Hello? Hello? Hello?”

“Hello? Hello, Daddy.”

“My darling girl! Anything wrong?”

“Oh, hello, Daddy. Are you all right? Oh, Daddy, I just wanted to hear you speak to me. When are you and Fanny coming up to see me? I'm so lonesome here. Why can't you come tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, darling, but I’m afraid I can’t. Tomorrow I’m meeting Mr. Parker at the station. We’re leaving at an early hour for a business trip up country.”

“But, Daddy, you promised.” Your voice was almost a whine as you said it, but you couldn’t mask your disappointment after waiting for so long, only to be told you’d have to wait even more. Two weeks felt like a lifetime.

“I know, I know. But I have other commitments that unfortunately can’t wait and need to be attended to first. It’s all rather dull, but it’s very important I finish with the bulk of my work before handing it off to someone else. Dr. Jaquith has been telling me what a good girl you’re being and I’m so sorry to have to break my promise, but as soon as I can get away, Fanny and I will come see you. The next time I see you, I’ll make it up to you. That’s a promise I will not break. Do you remember your promise you made me about making friends?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Have you had any luck?”

“Well… I’m not going to have a nurse anymore. I’m just going to have Charlotte. She’ll be my... What are you?”

“Your friend.”

“Yes. She’s going to be my friend. And she’s from Boston. And she’s ever so nice.”

“Tell her t…”

“What’s that, Daddy?”

“Tell her ‘thank you’.”

“He said to tell you thank you.”

“Charlotte sounds like a lovely person, but have you made friends with any of the other children?”

“Well… I did make one friend. Her name is Tina Durrance. Really it’s Christine, but she wants me to call her Tina. She was so unhappy here, but I’ve gotten to know her.”

“That’s such wonderful news! I'm glad to hear you’re coming out of your shell. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“It’s just one friend.”

“One is better than none. And if you ask me, it sounds like you have three very good friends. Keep at it, and I’m sure you’ll make more in time.”

“And just as soon as Dr. Jaquith said we could, Charlotte made plans to take us camping in the woods. Tina adores camping, just like me. Of course, I couldn’t do it without your permission. I wouldn’t. We’re supposed to be heading out tomorrow, but if you want me to stay and study…”

“No, I want you to go. Camping sounds like a wonderful break for her and for you. Daddy’s got to go now, darling, but I’ll call you again tomorrow at lunch, as always. Have fun on your camping trip. I love you. Goodbye.”

“I love you too, Daddy. Goodbye.” You hung up the phone and turned to Charlotte. “Thank you for letting me call him. Thank you, thank you.”

The next morning, it was Saturday. Time for you, Tina, and Charlotte to go camping. It was your favorite activity. You loved it just as much as you loved your art.

“There you are, Mr. Skeffington. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Hello.”

“Good to see you again. Where’s Mrs. Skeffington? Isn’t she with you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. She had a prior engagement that she couldn’t cancel or reschedule, so I’ve brought her cousin, George Trellis, with me in her stead. He’s my daughter Fanny’s godfather and like an uncle to both of my girls. George, this is Dr. David Jaquith.”

Dr. Jaquith and George shook hands cordially, but the disappointment in the doctor’s eyes was hard to miss. “Well… I can’t say I’m not disappointed that her mother isn’t here to see her, especially after so many months of hard work, but I’m glad you’re here in her stead, Mr. Trellis. it’s very nice to meet you.”

“And same to you, Doctor.”

“And of course, you remember Fanny, my daughter. Say hello, Fanny.”

“Hello, Dr. Jaquith.”

“Hello, young Fanny. It’s good to see you. I’m glad you could come along to see your sister. Maybe you could help to lift her spirits.”

“Sorry we’re late. We lost our way a bit. Tell us, how is she?” George asked.

“Better every week. In fact, she’s almost well, but she doesn’t believe it. The prospect still looks dark to her. Going through a sickness like hers is like going through a tunnel. It’s pretty dark right up to the last few hundred yards.”

“Have you seen my daughter yet?”

“Literally speaking, no, but I did talk to her. Not that she told me anything. As I said, she’s in low spirits. You’ll find her feeling depressed today because this morning, I told her she’s a fledgling now.”

“A fledgling?”

“Well, it’s time for her to get out of the nest and try her own wings. Contemplation of going home has struck her pretty hard. I haven’t told her there’s any alternative.”

“Then you think well of my alternative?”

“It’s a gift from Heaven. But we won’t tell her about it till you’ve gone. Now, don’t expect to find her looking well. She’s a pretty sick girl.”

You were in your room, painting and cleaning with Charlotte. You hung up some of your paintings to dry as she did some tidying up around the room. You were a mess. Your hands, face, hair, and clothes were stained with both dirt and paint. Clearly you had been playing outside earlier in the day. Your father didn’t expect anything else, and it was a welcome sight. Your eyes lit up and you smiled when you saw him, Fanny, and Uncle George, but they quickly dulled again and your lips drooped lower when you suddenly remembered what Dr. Jaquith told you just that morning. Your excitement had been overshadowed by the realization of what their presence here meant. Fanny was quick to run up to you and give you a hug. You hugged her back.

“Darling, I’m so glad to see you. Dr. Jaquith says you’re much better, almost well,” your father said.

“Yes, that’s what he says.”

“Mr. Skeffington, Fanny, Mr. Trellis, this is my wife, Charlotte. She’s chief of my police force here and has been acting as Miss Skeffington’s nurse. Charlotte, this is Mr. Job Skeffington, Mr. George Trellis, and young Fanny, her father, her mother’s cousin who’s like an uncle to her, and, of course, her twin sister.”

“How do you do?”

“What’s this, sweetheart?” Your father put his arm around your shoulder and kissed you on the side of the head as he looked over at the canvas you were currently working on.

“I’ve been helping Miss Skeffington with her painting. Now you’ve come, if you’ll excuse me, I have a million things to do.” Charlotte and her husband shared a knowing smile as she left the room.

“How’s Mother?” you asked nervously as you played with your hands and picked at your fingernails before stuffing them in the pockets of your trousers.

“Fine. She’s been having a wonderful time entertaining, paying visits to all her friends and blessing them with her presence at parties. She’s spending the day with Mrs. Thornton and her sister at present.”

“Has Dr. Jaquith told you?”

“Told me what?”

“He says I’m well enough to leave here now. I’ve got to go home. Daddy, I dread it so terribly. I know it’s awful not to want to see Mother, and it’s wrong...”

“Stop, look, and listen. New England conscience on the track.”

“Perhaps you don’t have to go home.”

“Mayn’t I tell her, Dr. Jaquith?” Fanny asked.

“Later, maybe. We’ll see how she behaves.” When you looked at Dr. Jaquith quizzically, he explained, “We have a scheme, your father and I. Your sister knows about it.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling you yet. Marvelous chance, though, to use your re-education. Well, my time for pleasure is just about up. I thought I’d show your Uncle George around the place a little. You can show him and your father the rest of the works when we get back. Meet me outside in a minute, Mr. Trellis?”

“Oh, I’ve been thrown out of better places than this, Doctor. Fanny, would you like to come with?” Taking their cue, your Uncle George and Fanny followed Dr. Jaquith out of the room, leaving you and your father alone for a tearful and heartfelt reunion. As soon as the door closed, you hugged your father tight. You didn’t want to let him go. You told him all about your time at Cascade, not sparing any detail of your experiences and adventures, both good and bad. Though you often rambled incoherently in a way all children do, your father avidly listened to every word. He responded to you, asked you questions, matched your energy. He cared about you and your interests, even if they were so different from his own, and that meant the world to you. You couldn’t wait till you could show him the big surprise.

You never cared much for keeping a diary. You tried, but only wrote a handful of entries before your time in Cascade. But Dr. Jaquith said it could be a good outlet for you to let out all your pent up emotions and encouraged you to take it up again. Since you would be at Cascade for the next two weeks, possibly even longer depending on how you progressed, it seemed to be a good time to start keeping one again. When your time at Cascade went from two weeks to two years, you were so glad you followed Dr. Jaquith’s advice. Journaling the day’s events and what you were thinking and feeling helped you in more ways than one. Even after you were deemed well enough to return home and your time at Cascade came to an end, you still kept the diary going.

September 1927

It’s finally Daddy’s day off today but I can’t show him my drawings or how I’m coming along in my reading just yet. Daddy is so busy. He said that he was sorry, but he was hung up with Thomas, the lawyer. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was talking to Thomas on the phone. He seemed mad at him. I don’t know what lawyers do, but it sounds boring and tedious. Daddy is always working now, so I only see him on his day off. The babysitter’s name is Hannah. We talk about Daddy sometimes. I think she is Daddy’s friend. I am glad Daddy has someone who cares about him. She picked Fanny up from school yesterday since Daddy was too busy. Daddy said never to go with strangers, so Fanny had to call him just to be sure Hannah could be trusted. Hannah’s nice, but I don’t really like having babysitters.

You found yourself outside your father’s study. He would be finished with his paperwork any moment. You waited there, going over again and again Charlotte’s cheers in your mind. The door opened, and your father stared down at you, as if surprised to find you there. You drew yourself up as tall as could be, but he still towered over you.

“Do you need something, sweetheart?” he asked.

You nodded, but didn’t answer. Without a word, you strode right inside his study. You heard your father close the door behind you and follow.

“Is something wrong? Are you hurt? Sick?” he asked you.

You shook your head.

“Have you finished your studies today?”

You reached up and took the first bit of parchment off the stack.

“Careful, darling, those are important documents. They can't be lost—”

“Public notice… Pending dem…demo…demolition… This property will be demol…demolished as ordered by the Department of Ins…inspec…inspections and Lice…Licenses.” You looked up from the random sentence and hid your smile. Then you continued, and you read the entire letter out loud to your father. “No person may remove this notice prior to the approval date which the demolition may commence. The owner of this property has not been found and therefore this dwelling unit and the surrounding land will be placed under ownership of the state. The area is to become a natural wildlife refuge until further need or sale approval by the state courts. The structure and fou…founday…foundation of this property are not stable. Anyone entering the premis..is…is…premises under permit must take pre…preca…precautions and care. Multiple injuries have occurred due to the structural inte…inte…gritty…integrity of this property.” When you finished, he actually laughed, and you felt your cheeks go red. You loved it when you pleased her father. You had seen his smile more times than you could count, but you rarely heard a laugh.

“You see, darling? You are a Skeffington! You always had it in you!” he said. “You've got quite the attitude, but I'm proud of you. Keep up the good work.” He touched your face and then embraced you. “Come now, supper is waiting for us.”

You beamed at him, and you headed to the dining room together. You recounted the story to Uncle George, and he laughed first and then congratulated you. Then he hugged you. After supper, you returned to your room to practice some more and then prepare for bed. You still had much farther to go, and the letters still got jumbled, but you were determined to work hard. The next morning, you once again found yourself pouring over a book. You finished reading the paragraph aloud and looked up at Marie. She was absent-mindedly working on something with a needle.

“Um… Marie, I have a question,” you said.

“Ask away,” she urged you.

“Well, it’s just about something that I overheard. One of the neighbors said a Miss Rosalyn seduced her husband. She called her a whore. Marie, what does seduce mean? And what’s a whore?”

The needle suddenly slipped and pricked her finger. You felt bad for giving her an ouchie.

October 1927

Although they live in the same house, Mother and Daddy hardly speak to each other. Mother was very upset because Daddy had lady friends that came to visit him in his office at the bank, but Mother has gentlemen friends that come to see her at the house, so I don’t see the difference. Why was it wrong for Daddy to have friends? Mother and Daddy are always telling Fanny and I the importance of making friends. Can’t they just all get together for a play date like me and Fanny did at recess? It’s after dinner. Fanny and I have been sent to our rooms. Mother and Uncle George are arguing with each other. They're talking about divorce. Weren’t Mother and Daddy supposed to work everything out? Did something happen? What changed?

“Five secretaries in a row? I’m not that forgiving.”

“The second secretary must have forgiven him for the first. The third for the second, and so on. Can’t you be as forgiving as a secretary?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m very grateful to Job for making it so easy for me to divorce him. I must admit, at first I was very angry. And then suddenly, I realized that the five secretaries were five gates to freedom.”

“And now you can live with your conscience.”

“Well, yes.”

“I hope the two of you will be very happy.”

I thought I was being so careful, but Mother saw me peeking from the railing.

“What do you think you're doing, young lady? Upstairs. It’s books and study. Besides, your father and I have something to discuss.”

November 1927

I think I’m finally finding my study groove. My test scores are really good. I’m worried about how much my parents are fighting recently, though. They were yelling at each other again today. I asked Mother why, but she wouldn’t say.

December 1927

This is it. Test day tomorrow. But this Monday isn’t going to be like other Mondays. It’s different because it’s the last big exam day before the end of the semester. Daddy told me I should be proud of myself since I've worked so hard, so l’m feeling great. He’s not around very much, but I know he loves me, and I love him. Daddy, I’m going to ace this test tomorrow for both you and Mother!

December 1927

I did really well in all my tests! I studied really hard. I still have two more semesters to go, but I wanted to show Mother and Daddy. Maybe they will become happy if they see how smart I am. It’s winter break and I’m going to enjoy not having to do any lessons for the next week or two.

January 1928

Where’s Daddy? We haven’t seen him since Christmas. Uncle George won’t say. Fanny and I have been talking and playing almost all day, every day, except for the time we have to do our homework. Homework is boring, but it’s nice being in the same room together.

February 1928

It’s the day after Valentine’s Day. Usually it’s Mother’s favorite day of the year because she gets spoiled with even more attention and affection than she does on any other day of the year. Abundant gifts of chocolates, flowers, and other pretty and sparkly things from men take up so much space in the house, the servants don’t know what to do with it all. I don’t think even Mother knows what to do with it all. This year was much of the same. The men gave her presents and impassioned proclamations of love, but there was no payoff. But, today, she was very angry and upset. When I innocently asked her where Daddy was, she snapped at me and said he wasn’t coming home anymore. What happened? Did Daddy get a time out?

February 1928

Mother keeps getting visitors. Peter is still here. He showed up again with a smile on his face and flowers in his hands from the new place he was raving about. He was here last week too. I now know why the neighbors say Mother and Peter are more than friends. I would have called them a couple too if only Mother wasn't so…so… I don’t know what the right word is. I mean, she spends more time looking in a mirror than looking at people when she’s talking to them! Today, Peter got Mother a gift made from Goldstone. It’s already her second since he came here! Are there other presents I don’t know about? He bought Fanny and me a bunch of books and toys. He must’ve thought, that should be enough to keep us occupied, right? The last present I got from Daddy was at Christmas. When he still lived here. I know Peter is doing this just because he’s worried about us. He wants us to feel more comfortable with him in our home. Did he really think these things would be enough to keep us occupied and out of his way? It might be enough for Fanny, but not me. I feel like he’s giving way too much to Mother. I know I’m immature to think this way. Daddy hates when people are immature. Everything seems to be going well now that they’ve been going out on dates. But I don’t trust Peter whatever-his-last-name-is. He’s trying to take Daddy’s place. I won’t let him. I’ve taken a permanent offense at him and I’ll make sure he knows it. I’ll look him right in the eye and I’ll tell him, “I don't know who gave you the right to call my mother your wife. She's not your wife yet and will never be your wife.” I wish Daddy would come back. I need to stop thinking about stupid things.

February 1928

If only Mother and Daddy could make up. Mother, Daddy... Can you try to behave like a happy couple? Or wouldn’t that be rather dishonest? They haven't separated yet, but it is too late. Mother and Daddy are liars. They always told me I need to make up with my friends when we fight. They told me to forgive Sarah whenever she took and broke my stuff. But they won’t make up. Even though they aren’t together anymore, I still hear them fighting over the phone. Sometimes Daddy says he is going to keep Mother away from us. Daddy says that he is going to rescue Fanny and I from Mother. Why can’t they just stay together? Would it kill them to put on a show for a few more days? The thing is, I don't want to give Janie Clarkson any ammunition by extension. I’m “friends” with Brenda, who’s friends with Janie’s son, Jeremy. I know Janie and Mother don’t like each other. Yet Janie keeps trying to go out with Mother to lunch. Grownups are so confusing.

March 1928

I got a letter in the mail. It was one from Brenda again, asking how I was feeling about Mom and Dad’s break up. With a flick of the wrist, I threw it in the trash. It was none of her damn business how I felt. None. Just because Brenda had been the one I’d gone crying to, it didn't give her the right to keep on prying. Nosey parker. She was probably having a good old laugh about it with her friends. I know she’s a blabbermouth and is friends with Jeremy Clarkson. I didn’t tell her anything, so how did she find out? Fucking Jeremy. The twerp always sticks his snotty nose into other people’s business. Like mother, like son. He said his uncle saw Daddy at a speakeasy with a lady who wasn’t Mother. Miss Eleanor Morris. And that Mother was also there with a man who wasn’t Daddy. Max MacMahon. Neither of them knew the other was there, so their running into each other was an unpleasant surprise. Usually he’s full of shit, but this…I don’t want to believe it, but…it’d explain why Daddy is gone so much. I don’t know. I’m still mad at Brenda for telling Jeremy about Mom and Dad. Well, I’d show her. Come exam day I’d get the top grade. If there was anything I didn't understand I’d have Brenda explain it, then I’d go in and beat her. It worked like a charm every time. When Brenda didn't understand something I would just pretend I didn't get it either, even if I did. The phone is ringing. It’s probably Brenda again, something about a family emergency and she needed to talk. The last thing I needed was some crying mess wrecking my day. There’s more important things to do.

You sat at your easel, painting. Your father entered and sat down on one of the chairs. You bid him enter the attic, but you didn’t look at him. You were painting a sophisticated, stylized royal portrait of a fluffy cat dressed like it was a man from the Renaissance era. Why? You saw a stray cat in the neighborhood and thought it was pretty. Other animal portraits were already leaned up against the wall. You were either experimenting or going through a weird phase.

Your father shifted uncomfortably. “We need to talk about last night.”

“Do we?”

“Yes. There are certain things that grownups do, that kids aren't supposed to see. And that was one of them.”

You kept painting. You still didn’t look at him. It was the first time he was home in weeks, and the first thing he did was…that. With another woman. He hadn’t realized that when your mother, uncle, and sister went out for the evening, you had stayed home because you made an excuse that you weren’t feeling well. You didn’t want to believe Jeremy, (you mentally nicknamed him “germy” for good reason) but now you had to, because you had more than just his word. You saw the proof with your own eyes. When he realized you were there and what you had seen, your father was quick to react by hurriedly cleaning himself up and sending Miss Morris home, all but pushing her out the door with a million apologies on his lips. But the damage was done.

“Darling, I need you to listen to me.”

You paused. You deliberately set your paintbrush down and turned to your father. An awkward beat.

“See, when two grownups love each other very, very much, they like to…show that love to each other.”

“I know. They fuck. Like Mrs. Ledger’s basset hounds. Do you love Miss Morris? More than Mother?”

Your father was dumbfounded. You regarded him with a bored, aloof look.

April 1928

I miss you sometimes, Daddy. Today was a cleaning day and Manby found some of your books and cologne bottles that you left. I miss you. I smell your favorite cologne bottle just to remind myself what you used to smell like. Mother got so upset when she saw the bottle. She made me throw them away. I secretly kept one. I miss you, Daddy. Sometimes when you went to visit other places, you’d come back with candy for me and Fanny. You told me that you would write to me if you went somewhere else. That was three weeks ago now. No one wants to tell me if you went somewhere else. The neighbors and servants just tell me to keep my lips zipped. I'm sorry for what I said about Edward and Freddie at dinner. Is that why you aren’t coming to stay at home anymore? I know Mother likes them, I just— I just want you back and didn’t want them to replace you. I miss you, Dad. I love you, Dad.

I haven’t seen you for a while. I wonder when you’ll be back to visit me. Every time I entered Dr. Jaquith’s office, I could smell his tobacco. It reminded me of your study room, even though you don’t smoke. It was the perfect reminder when you were gone for so long. I miss you, Daddy. Mother wrote, but she never visited. She was always busy with her friends. She has no time to spare for me. Sometimes I wonder if Mother loves me. Maybe I should call Charlotte or Manby my mother instead.

For your whole life, seeing the world had only been a dream, but, with your parents’ divorce and your father taking you to Europe with him after gaining full custody of you and Fanny, it could be a reality.

#mr Skeffington #the wolf man #daughters courageous #now voyager #Claude rains #bette davis #crossover au #crossover fic #crossover #pls tag me if you’re inspired by this #I’d love to read it #x reader

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drawing-way-outside-the-lines · 2 years ago

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➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖

Chapter 32 - Creeping Loneliness. Episode 1.

Same night About 40 minutes later, Congo opens his eyes and stretches his legs, smiling softly as he sees Daniel slowly opening his eyes as well, talking in a lowered warm voice how are you feeling?

Daniel: Smiles sleepy good…fucking good…. man you are really something in bed! chuckles silently and smiles satisfied how are you? I hope we did'nt cause anything bad for you by pushing you that far?

Congo: Shakes head softly no… I hate getting pushed there, but when I'm finally there, nothing much gets to me… I just wanna reach ultimate pleasure…

Daniel: And you did? I mean, I saw how it ran out of Andy… woah that was a lot!… but I wasn't even aware you came…?

Congo: Chuckles softly neither was I… I don't really recognize much in that state, I just strive for pleasure, and there's almost no limit to what I will do…. look at the marks on Andy's throat… well, they will be gone by tomorrow thanks to him being exceptional at tabbing into Marius's healing powers for some reason…. looks pensive oh… crap… slaps forehead

Daniel: What?

Congo: Feels his lip and brushes a finger lightly over the bite marks on Andy's neck arch Can you get to see if there's any blood around here? I can't see from over here, and I don't want to squish him just yet…

Daniel: Turns a bit to his side, and runs a soft finger over Andy's arch yup.. there's definitely some blood here…

Congo: Frowns and rubs his forehead I never know where the right time is for these, it never gets to be an easier call to make, it seems sighs softly

Daniel: Frowns lightly what do you mean?

Congo: Well, you know Andy has some of Marius's blood inside him right?

Daniel: Nods softly yeah… and it activates the blood of A he has as well…

Congo: Nods right… and you also know he once had some of my blood in him, and frowns deeper Johns as well, right?

Daniel: Frowns deep right…

Congo: Then you are also perhaps familiar with the chaos it brought Andy with over two bloodtypes beside his own, in his body?

Daniel: Sighs softly yes, unfortunately…

Congo: Points the cut on his lip that is still somewhat moist from blood, of him biting his lip

Daniel: Frowns so you think you two mixed blood again now?

Congo: Nods yeah… by accident, cause causing Andy to go through that mess again… is the least of my intentions. I'm trying to clean his life from supernatural things.. this is just adding to the fire sighs deeply we can easily get it out if we talk with the Doc, I'm sure he wouldn't even ask many questions… but I know Andy… he will want to keep it, cause it's me, and it will make him feel safer… but it can potentially be a lethal cocktail for him… we aren't supposed to have different blood types in our bodies, and over time that can destroy more than you can possible imagine, to the point of killing Andy, or simply taking over his own blood… that's what happened with John. And it nearly killed him. So, I have to tell Andy, and try to reason with him to get it out as fast as possible… now, again, it's never easy to know when to deliver bad news… if I do it now, it might put a damp over over fun activities… or… it might turn him on even further…. he loves things with blood and pain sighs softly and shakes his head so it might on one hand ruin the night… and on the other make it even more heated, at least for him… these things are always a gamble, but I have learned they in most cases tends to backfire…

Daniel: Observes Congo's worried face for a bit, then gets out of bed silently, walks around it and sits down on the edge close to Congo scoot a bit….

Congo: Frowns a bit I can't, I'm gonna roll on top of Andy then…

Daniel: Sighs softly fine… whatever… turn to your side then… preferably with your face in this direction…

Congo: Observes Daniel a bit questioning, but does as he says

Daniel: Smiles softly and slides down next to Congo now… shut the fuck up for the next 5 minutes….

Congo: Frowns a bit hesitating

Daniel: Moves himself as close to Congo as possible and wraps his arms tight around him in a hugging embrace, talking in a lowered sweet voice you have way too many worries on your mind… try to just relax a bit… it will be okay… it will all be okay as long as you two have each other. Tell him, but don't force him to get it out… Johns blood was destructive and evil… yours is good and warm… he needs more of that inside him… don't tell the Doc… you two will feel if it changes things in him, and then you can call the Doc right away…. don't worry about it…. you are good… you are the best human being I ever came across, nothing bad inside of you… not even what you did to us tonight… we are filthy sluts, and you gave us exactly what we asked for and exactly what we needed. I have never been fucked this right, and I bet Andy hasn't either… not even by the vamp. You have something A will never have… and that's you! Share that with Andy in any way possible… also sometimes the ways you don't like so much yourself… the more you give of yourself… the more the vamp will lose…. Andy can handle losing A, but Congo, he will never ever be strong enough to lose you… ever! It will maybe not kill his body, but it will kill Andy… you are the one… listen to your heart, and you will know exactly what to do with him, in any situation.

Congo: Presses his face tight against Daniels shoulder and sobs quietly

Daniel: Strokes his back softly there… take all the time you need… let it all out…. we have plenty of time….

Congo: After about 5 minutes of silent sobbing he softly starts nibbling Daniels neck, breathing hot air on his skin as he presses his boner against Daniels thigh

Daniel: Moans softly was that it?

Congo: Digs his fingers into Daniels upper arms and presses him down on his back, sliding half way on top of him, kissing his way down Daniels chest and lets his tongue flicker over Daniels nipples

Daniel: Moans deeper I guess so? He digs his fingers into Congo's hair and moans softer, enjoying the feeling of Congo's beard against his naked chest God, I could really get used to this… you…. him… turns his head and looks at Andy he's really something special right? Once in a million…

Congo: smiles warmly and raises his upper body above Daniel you are pretty special too Daniel… it takes quite the person to make me give in like that… both on the sex… and the hug… what do you say we get that party started again?

❌Sex scene START - readers must be 18+❌ ❌ (To skip sex scene, scroll till next marking) ❌ (Once again not edited, sorry, do not have time/patience for it) Congo: And whenever you feel like, you just reach over and wake up Andy? He would actually love it if you woke him up with a blowjob…that would surely tip him right over the edge smiles cheekily if you move downwards a bit and lay across the bed on your back, I would love to give you a blowjob… and when you feel ready to bring him back in, you just simply turn around to your stomach and let me fuck you while you blow him? Hm? He tilts his head and smiles naughty I would really like to get more of you…

Daniel: Bites lips cheekily fuck yeah! Move over a bit…

Congo; Smiles cheekily and crawls off Daniel, getting on his knees on the floor, chuckling softly as Daniel observes him closely what, Daniel?

Daniel: Moans softly and grabs his boner, stroking it firmly I never imagined YOU would be on your knees…

Congo: Shakes head softly and chuckles warmly oh you can get on your knees too, boy!

Daniel: Moans louder call me boy again!

Congo: Lifts eyebrows dont give me commandos, boy!

Daniel: Moans even louder fuck yeah!

Congo: Lay down… puts a firm hand on Daniels chest and pushes him down on his back, making his back head lean on Andys thigh now YOU relax, and let me take care of you…. BOY!

Daniel: Moans louder and exhales damp air, feeling his body heat rise and sweat form on his naked skin

Congo: Smiles naughty and strokes Daniels inner thighs Hmm… you have very sexy thighs Daniel… an a very sexy ass… and that dick of yours… licks lips its like a younger version of my own… a blast from the past….

Daniel: Moans softly a younger version? Congo… your body still looks 30-something… you are incredible sexy! Look at that chest… those arms… those legs… fuck!! That ass!!! Moans deep and your dick… fuuuuck!!! And your hands!!! And above all… those hairs!!!! You are MAN! Bites lips and moves his hips a bit from side to side please… I need to feel your mouth…

Congo: Grins cheekily as you wish gorgeous he runs a hand over the shaft of Daniels dick, stroking it softly, licking his lips to wetten them, then lowers himself, taking in the whole dick in one go, moaning deep as he reaches the root, then slowly runs all the way back up again, sliding it out of his mouth and grins wide at Daniel very nice… smooth as silk… and very good taste

Daniel: Moans softly and arches his back a bit more!

Congo: Grins satisfied and repeats the process, this time sucking his way back up again, twirling his tongue at the tip as he reaches it, licking, kissing, sucking and once in a while biting it gently

Daniel: Moans more deep and hoarse for every time Congo bites it, digging his fingers into Congos hair Damn I want to fuck your throat!!

Congo: Grins wide say 'please'… BOY!

Daniel: Moans deeply please let me fuck your throat*

Congo: Smiles satisfied and, swallows Daniels dick, slowly making it to the root and moans deeply as Daniel starts moving his hips rapidly up and down, gliding in and out of his throat, making squishing sounds and saliva gather at the corners of his mouth

Daniel: Fuck yeah!!! He grabs tighter onto Congos hair and forces his head up and down at the same rythm as he moves his hips fuck me with that mouth… fuck me like theres no tomorrow! Swallow me hole!

Congo: Moans deeply and lets a finger tickle Daniels hole, gently teasing it

Daniel: Moans deeper God yes!!! Now stay down!! He presses Congos head deep down on his crotch, spinning his hips in wild circles as if he wanted to stir something in Congos throat, getting even more sweaty as he sees tears form in Congos eyes, moaning loudly as he feels Congos thumb slide inside himself, pressing his ass against it at the same time as he tries pressing Congos mouth even further down, seeing him struggle for air only sends a lightning of excitement through his body, piercing him with electricity as he cums strongly inside Congos throat, letting go of his hair instantly, letting his arm fall down beside him on the bed, digging his fingers into the sheets as he moans out long and loud

Congo: Pulls away from Daniel and smiles satisfied as he swallows half of the cum, the rest he spits out in his hand, and rubs it on his dick now, turn around boy, and do the same to Andy as I just did to you… in favor Ill fuck your ass blue! You would like that, wouldnt you?

Daniel: *Fuck yeah! *Turns around eagerly and pops his ass a bit up in the air* fuck me good!

Congo: slaps his ass hard dont give me commandos, boy! Now Ill have to punish you!

Daniel:Bites lips of excitement and gently grabs Andys dick, stroking it softly, then moans from satisfaction as he feels Congo slowy slide himself inside him, feeling him fill him up more than completely

Congo: Oh you like that, huh? You like that boy?

Daniel: Nods eagerly Yes! Yes! Oh god yes!

Congo: Now you be a good boy and suck my mate…

Daniel: Bites lips and moans deeply Yes, sir! He slowly inserts Andys half boner into his mouth. sucking it as it was a lollipop, twirling his tongue over the head, smiling exited as he watches it grow bigger

Congo: Thats right boy, watch him grow…

Daniel: Moans deeply, loving how Congo fills up his ass, while Andy fills up his mouth and throat as he slowly makes his way down to the root, moaning loudly as he starts bobbing his head up and down

Congo: Moans loudly take it all in! Thrusts himself hard into Daniel, making him cough a bit on Andys dick as it gets shoved further down his throat

Andy: Moans softly and slowly opens his eyes, starring confused at Daniel, then Congo, then moans deep as he realizes whats going on oh god… he instantly turns red in his face from arousal, observing Congo reaching in and out of Daniel, watching his own dick disappear into Daniels mouth, hearing him huff and puff on it, watching tears in his eyes

Congo: Grins wide and cheeky at Andy hi Gorgeous… we started without you…

Andy: Chuckles hoarse and moans softly yeah… I see… and feel moans deeper and plants his hands on the back of Daniels head, moving them with his bobbing head, putting a slight pressure on it

Congo: Moans deep god! Hes just as tight as you! Its almost like your holes works against me sometimes moans deeply

Andy: Bites lips hard fuck!!! He runs his hands gently down Daniels cheeks, grabs his jaw and holds his head still breath slow and deep… trust me….

Daniel: Nods agreeing

Andy: Tips himself slightly to the side so he gets a better angle, and starts fucking Daniels mouth and throat quite fast

Congo: Groans deeply thats right… take it in both ends, boy!

Andy: Looks at Congo a bit confused

Congo: Shakes head softly and rolls eyes, clearly containing a chuckle as he with his eyes tells Andy, Daniel apparently gets off on being called boy

Andy: Nods agreeing as he understands quite well what Congo tries to tell open up more!

Daniel: Moans loudly and gags, sending a lot of saliva running down Andys dick, tickling his scrotum and butthole

Andy: Moans deeply take it all in!

Daniel* Moans even louder and gags again, sending another stream of saliva down Andys dick*

Congo: Observes the two of them, starting to moan more rapidly, then arches his back and puts more thrusting movements into it Ready, boy? Ready for me to fill you with cum?

Daniel: Moans beggingly and arches his back, pressing his ass more against Congos groin

Andy: Oh god yes! He thrusts himself inside Daniels throat, but still making sure he doesnt hurt him in any way Oh god!!! He gazes deep into Congos eyes, connecting with him suddenly, on a much deeper plan than ever before, almost sorta feeling Congo move around in his body, swimming in his blood, he feels everything so intense that it suddenly feels like the hole room is spinning fast, and he immediately lets go of Daniels head and reaches an arm quickly for Congo, grabbing onto his hand strongly as he screams out in a sound that sounds almost like terror, if not for his 'OH GOD YES' it would have sounded like someone tried to kill him. He shoots off a massive load, that runs out of both Daniels nose and mouth, making him gag several times as Andy falls backwards into the sheets and cums a second time, just as Daniel pulls his head away, panting for air

Congo: Quickly pulls out of Daniel and jumps up in bed, kneeling down next to Andys head are you alright?

Andy: Moans loudly as he grabs on to Congo as if he was holding on for his life, but his moans and twitching movements clearly tells another orgasm is on its way FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!! He moans loudly as he cums a third time, falling back into bed, panting heavily I feel you moans loudly in all of my blood cells! moans loudly I need…. fuck…. fuck me…. both of you…. fuck me… moans loudly fuck me!!!

Congo: Frowns and looks at Daniel

Daniel: Coughs and laughs softly well… lets fuck him…

Congo: Scratches the back of his neck Andy… I think I have to call for Gaby… I by accident transfered some of my blood to you… I think this could turn out bad….

Andy: Takes a deep breath and grabs onto Congos hand again no… Im good… Im fucking good… I feel all your love for me… gets tears in his eyes I have never felt so loved before… you are so amazing… you dont even know how wonderful you are… I love you so much…. you are everything I ever needed and wanted… Im so happy I finally saw you…. please fuck me… I need both of you closer right now tears rolls from his eyes as he chuckles softly

Congo: Softly strokes his cheek are you sure?

Andy: Nods softly yes… please… I know my limits by now.. I know darkness… this is the most incredible light I have ever seen… please be with me in this, both of you… its the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and felt… its you… your love… your soul….

Congo: Gets tears in his eyes, and chuckles softly alright… if this isnt too weird for you yet? Turns and laughs loudly as he sees Daniel jerking off I guess not?

Daniel: Fuck no! I want you guys so much! This is the most sense sex has ever made to me… well beside the pleasure of it… Im fucking ready to go all the way here…

Andy: Sits up slowly, grabs Congos cheeks gently and plants a soft loving kiss on his lips Im yours, forever… and forever isnt even long enough… trust me… I feel perfect right now… lets wash away in it and just be one… lay down….. relax…

Congo: Nods softly and slowly lays down on his back Im yours too… for eternity…I was always yours…. yours only…. you had my heart from the very first night…

Daniel: You guys are gonna make me cry, but man you are so fucking sexy, I dont even care!

Andy: Points tongue at Daniel cheekily Daniel, we already made you cry tonight.

Daniel: Chuckles hoarse, then moans softly as he runs his fingers down to his balls, playing gently with them

Andy: Smiles warmly at both him and Congo are we ready?

Daniel: FUCK YEAH!!!

Congo: Chuckles softly and caresses Andys cheek Im ready if you are?

Andy: Bites his lip cheekily, then crawls over Congos groin and grabs his dick firmly, slowly pressing his hole against it, letting it slide inside him slowly welcome home…. moans softly

Congo: Moans deeply at Andys words and grabs on to his hips give us two minutes Daniel… this is just perfect….

Daniel: Moans deeply take your time…

Andy: Moans deeply as he starts moving slowly up and down in wide circles oh god I love riding you… moans deeply you are so beautiful reaches down and caresses Congos cheek gently so big… moans deeply and arches his back

Congo: Moans deeply my red haired Aoba….

Andy:Grabs Congos hand again and leads it to his mouth, softly nibbling and sucking his fingers one by one, moaning deeply as he squeezes Congo inside him

Congo: Moans deeply Im gonna cum…

Andy: Whispers hoarsely please… moans deeply I need to be wet for this…

Congo: Nods softly and places his hand on Andys chest, feeling his heart pound in his chest stay alive… for me… for us…

Andy: Smiles lovingly and bright always… for you… for us…

Congo: Moans loud as he cums

Andy: Moans loud as he cums with him, then sinks forwards, leaning his forehead on Congos chest, panting softly Daniel… now…

Daniel: Bites lips and moans deeply, crawling up behind Andy and very slowly slides himself inside Andy, making Andy gasp

Andy: Wait a bit, dont move! Reaches a hand backwards, grabbing Daniels ass, squeezing him against himself, in order to try to prevent him from moving

Congo: Moans softly from the very tight feeling, and feeling of Daniels dick against his

Andy: Pants softly I need a few seconds more…

Daniel: Caresses his lower back gently Andy… if its too much…

Andy: Shakes head softly keep stroking me… thats really relaxing moans softly

Congo: smiles warmly at Daniel and wraps his arms gently around Andy, kissing his hair softly

Andy: Moans ever so softly I love you guys…

Daniel: Smiles warmly I love you too…

Congo: Kisses Andys hair again Im right there too… always…

Andy: Digs his fingers into Congos chest go on… slowly…

Daniel: Grunts agreeing and starts moving very slowly

Andy: Moans loudly yeah… thats it moans loudly

Congo: Moans softly god yes…

Andy: Digs his fingers further into Congos chest, and starts french kissing him deep and greedy, loving the feeling of both of them inside him, and Daniels movement, still feeling Congo in all his body, giving him chills up and down his spine

Daniel: Moans deeply oh god this is so tight!

Congo: Moans deeply and agreeing, twirling his tongue around Andys

Andy: Moans deep and drags his head away, smiling hungry at Congo Im ready for you to move too please… if you can…

Congo: Moans deeply and starts moving too damn! moans deep again

Andy: Moans loudly oh god yes!! Fill me up!!

Congo: Moans deeply you heard him, boy!

Daniel: Moans loudly and slaps Andys ass once on each cheek

Andy: Moans loud and whimpering faster!!

Daniel: Looks a bit questioning at Congo

Congo: Nods softly Go on, boy… give him what he wants

Andy: moans out loud as he feels both of them pick up speed, loving the sound of Daniel clasping against his ass

Daniel: Moans out loud and digs his nails into the flesh of Andys hips my fucking God! moans loud I love your ass!!!

Andy: Moans loud I love your dick Daniel!!!

Congo: Moans loudly and arches his back slightly

Andy: OH GOD!!!!! Whimpers out loud

Daniel: Leans forwards and bites Andys shoulder, pounding him harder

Congo: Moans loudly grabbing on to Daniels hands, braiding his fingers with his

Andy: Pants for air and drools down on Congos chest, unable to keep focus of anything any longer, feeling like hes melting between them, moaning rapidly in almost crying tones

Daniel: Moans loud and arches back I cant hold it any longer!!

Congo: Groans deeply cum with me, boy!

Andy: Whimpers Im full…. Im full…. oh god!!! whimpers

Daniel: Moans out loud and long as his cum fills Andy up creating wet squishing sounds

Andy: Moans sighingly

Congo: Thrusts harder as he feels Daniels movements stop, roaring as he feels Andy cum on his stomach, so he lets go and cums strongly, feeling the cum getting stired up inside Andy, mixing with Daniels as he continues moving, thrusting deep as he cums a second time, instantly turning limp in all his muscles, panting and moaning softly

Andy: They all lay still, Andy stuck between them for several minutes, before he feels Congo glide out of him, making him moan softly

Congo: Sorry sweetheart, I cant do more for now… kisses Andys hair gently

Daniel: Sighs deeply as he pulls out and rolls to lay on his side on the bed next to Congo, softy stroking Congos upper arm, observing Andy with a soft smile if you want, I still have a bit left in me?

Andy: Chuckles hoarse I dont even know if I can take more… I feel so full…

Daniel: Moves his hand from Congos arm to Andys cheek, stroking it softly its totally okay… Im more than satisfied anyway.

Congo: Smiles warmly at Daniel, miming 'thank you' to him, then kisses Andys hair softly Andy… I really need to stretch my legs… I think Im gonna go grab myself a whiskey, alright?

Andy: Sure smiles softly at Congo, and slides off him, standing up on the floor, dragging Congo after him, kissing him lovingly grab me an apple, will you?

Congo: Nods softly sure looks at Daniel with a soft smile anything for you while Im at it?

Daniel: Smiles softly nah, Im good, for now… thanks

Congo: Nods and walks off for the small kitchen nook few meters away from the bed

Andy: Returns to the bed, laying down on his side next to Daniel, looking a bit hesitant

Daniel: Chuckles softly Im not allergic to cuddling, if thats what you wanted?

Andy: Chuckles hoarse good to know moves closer so he leans his back and ass against Daniel, braiding his legs with his, smiling warmly as Daniel slowly wraps an arm around him, stroking his hair with his free hand

Daniel: Kisses the back of Andys neck softly you have a fucking amazing ass… just as amazing as the rest of you… Im getting slightly jealous at Congo… I mean it… but also slightly jealous at you… you both really got the whole package…

Andy: Moans softly thank you…. he truly is amazing in every way…

Congo: So are you smiles warmly as he returns to bed, handing Andy his apple as he sits down next to him there you go my angel

Andy: Blushes slightly and digs his teeth into the juicy apple

Daniel: Smiles softly at Congo

Congo: Sips his Whiskey whats the matter Daniel?

Daniel: Chuckles softly Im hungry…

Andy: Reaches his apple backwards have a bite… its juicy…

Daniel: Grins cheek at Congo Oh, I know it is… its filled with our cum… and dont mind me if I do slowly slides his dick back inside Andy, winking at Congo, who chuckles amused and sips his whiskey

Andy: Gasps from surprise, then moans softly now I cant eat my apple…

Daniel: Just dig in… dont mind me… starts moving back and forwards slow and deep in 8 figures

Andy: Moans hoarse I cant concentrate…

Daniel: You just have to if you are hungry enough moans softly and licks a drop of sweat of the back of Andys neck

Andy: Oh god! Moans softly, then digs his teeth into the apple moaning as he chews the juicy fruit

Daniel: Picks up speed sorry, this will be a quickie… I just needed to enjoy this ass alone without sharing it with a cell buddy winks at Congo and grins cheekily

Andy: Cell…. moans deep buddy?…. looks at Congo and blushes softly oh…

Daniel: God you are so tight… even after two big dicks! moans deeply, and pushes Andys ass a bit, tilting it a bit downwards to get another angle on his movement, loving to watch his dick go all the way out, watching Andys hole twitch before he shoves himself all the way in, making Andy whimper each time They continue like that several minutes, Andy along the way grabbing on to one of Congo hands, gasping for air as he feels himself getting drained from energy, sighing relieved, yet satisfied as he feels Daniel cum inside him*

#unicornmanes #Daniel Chase Hartwig #Congo Shaw #Andycorn #Andy Shaw-Thompson

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