Chapter 15 A Life Worth Living
A Life Worth Living
Anika
Anika had spent the rest of the weekend gardening, anything to get her mind off Mikko’s random appearance outside of her gym. As autumn fully settled in around her, the last of her produce blossomed. It’d been a good year, her gourds the last thing left to harvest.
Many of her flowers had bloomed and returned to their leafy states in preparation for fall. A few weeks ago she’d collected the last dregs of her violets, drying them out and saving them for garnishes and drinks.
But even the solace her plants usually brought her wasn’t enough.
Mikko loomed in the back of her mind, her eyes wandering over her shoulder every so often in hopes of catching him driving by or strolling through her yard like he owned it.
She knew this game of cat and mouse was dangerous; she’d provoked a beast—a man with endless resources and a traumatic background—but it’d be worth it.
Besides, it was nothing her feminine rage and handgun couldn’t handle.
Packing up her things, Anika noticed it was almost time for her to leave. Like clockwork, every two weeks she paid a visit to Evergrove, and this week it was no different.
* * *
THE JARRING SOUND of the front door’s buzzer beneath her fingertips brought back memories Anika wasn’t sure she was grateful for.
The antiquated facade of Evergrove Assisted Living sprawled out in each direction of her peripheral vision.
The facility boasted historic building construction, but all she felt while looking at it was cold.
Ivy clung to the stones, somehow brave enough to grow, thrive even, this close to death.
While everyone inside may be alive, their minds were elsewhere. Tortured.
“Name, and reason for visiting?” a voice cut through on the intercom, scratchy from interference.
“Um, hey, it’s Anika, and I’m here to visit my mom, Ira Naidu,” she answered stiffly.
A pattern had fallen into place over the years, eight to be exact, but it never got any easier. She was never content to see her mom in the declining state she was in. As a child, it was normal to assume parents would die before their children, but this…
Anika’s circumstances were different. A fact she held close to her heart, letting it warm her on lonely nights. And there were too many of those.
The door mechanism unlocked quickly, the operator within the building content with Anika’s answer. Reaching out, her hand gripped the cold metal before pulling open the heavy door and slipping inside.
A yellow tinted vestibule greeted her, its age not a reflection of the exterior, but still a dated era nonetheless.
It was a conglomerate of years mushed together, miscellaneous renovations overlapping and creating the current space.
Anika wasn’t sure if it was hideous because it was, or if her bias was influenced by the memories attached to this place. Regardless, she never lingered long.
The old door slammed on creaky hinges behind her, triggering another memory of how the noise had startled her for weeks when she’d first started coming here.
So much has changed, she thought.
“Anika,” the woman behind the desk said, “good to see you back.”
The wires embedded in the glass warped her face, but Anika knew who she was. With her routine visits, they’d formed an acquaintance.
“Hi Barbara, good to see you.”
Grabbing a clipboard, the dark haired woman stood and exited the small office she was confined to in the entry.
Opening the door to the vestibule, she waved Anika the rest of the way in as a warm rush of air trickled in from the furnace, making her shiver.
It was an unusually cold day even for the beginning of October.
Maybe the universe knows where I’m heading and decided to set the mood.
Brushing the thought away, Anika followed Barbara silently.
Originally, Ira had wanted to come here on her own since she required physical therapy and a nurse who was on standby.
Years ago, Anika had fought her mom on that, trying to care for her on her own.
But between school and working to provide an income for both of them, it became too much to bear alone.
Ira needed constant monitoring, the ghosts of their past haunting her every waking moment.
Anika had her own demons to deal with, but she hid them—buried them beneath all the dark layers of her heart—to care for her mom.
They’d already lost so much; the secrets within Anika’s heart needed to remain as such so her mom could embrace the peaceful life she deserved.
Sanity was a fleeting attribute, and Anika didn’t want to risk it.
Not only did memories ail her mom, but also her physical scars. Phantom pains from the bullet wounds she’d sustained that day still radiated throughout her torso and legs, causing her to groan and wail.
It was horrendous.
Now, Anika walked the halls of Evergrove, a place boasting quality care.
Well, as quality as Anika could find within her budget.
It’d been a miracle when her mother was accepted in—a weight lifting off both their shoulders.
But now, looking at the peeling wallpaper, Anika wondered if she did the right thing.
Confinement was relative Anika supposed, knowing some people enjoyed the structure it brought. Many were content living inside a cage as long as they were sheltered from the ways of the harsh world.
Ira was one of those people. Her mom didn’t mind the yellow lights and the worn furniture. Anika tolerated it too, knowing it was necessary for their survival. It was the other patients, the ones who roamed and searched the halls for an escape, that Anika watched closely.
Their soft sneakers squeaked on the waxed floor as Barbara led Anika down familiar passages. Among the pauses of silence, small talk ensued among them; Anika commenting on her work, and Barbara updating her on her daughter’s progress in school.
Stopping in front of a cherry stained wood door, Barbara entered a passcode and pushed it open.
“You know the drill, ring the bell when you’re done, or if you need anything.” With that, Anika was left alone with her mom. Or the shell of her.
A beep and the sound of the lock sliding into place behind her hardly stood out as unusual.
It kept her mother safe unlike all those years ago when a poorly cloaked excuse of a real estate business broke into their family home and took her father before he could see his daughter grow up.
It kept the people they didn’t trust out, so they could live as though they didn’t carry the weight of those terrible echoes.
“Hi, mom,” Anika said, pulling up the chair beside Ira’s bed. Most days, her mom was awake, eager to attend the activities the staff had planned for her and other people within the facility. But some days her mom slept, erasing the hurt with medication and unconsciousness.
Today was one of those days.
Reaching out and taking her mom’s warm hand nestled within the blankets, she sat there, content to listen to her breaths. Anika hardly ever did anything during her visits, just soaked up these moments. They weren’t ideal or picturesque, but it was enough.
And it was a reminder of what had been stolen from them—what needed to be taken back. The note she’d found on her car flashed across her mind again.
To devour me, you must have teeth.
Indeed; good thing Anika had been sharpening hers for years.
“I’m getting closer to finding out who did this, mom,” was all she said, letting her words fill the space around them. “And once I get close enough to take a shot, I will.”
* * *
Anika - 18 Years Ago
Thirteen.
That was how old she’d been when her life had changed. It was at that moment that Anika decided the world was cruel, uncaring for its inhabitants, and so, she too would become cruel and unforgiving.
Heat from the stove permeated the air, the scent of food inescapable. Soft humming filled the quiet din of her mother moving around the kitchen. Utensils clacked together and vegetables sizzled, a harmonic melody lulling her deeper into concentration.
Laid out before Anika were scribble-filled papers, each containing lines and lines of equations. She preferred math above other subjects, enjoying its reliability and patterns. There were formulas she could follow—a stark division between where she was right and where she had gone wrong.
Even now, her homework was completed, but she wanted to experiment and try to find other ways to solve the problems set before her.
It was in her blood to be an endless debater.
Puzzles and other intellectual challenges fueled her, mind racing to discover something most would overlook.
Her mother, while she didn’t always understand, still encouraged Anika, forever enthralled with her skills.
But her father, well, he was exactly like her.
That was one of the many reasons he was a successful businessman.
Numbers came to him just as easily as understanding people did.
His small shop near the city thrived, people eager to buy his wares.
Her father had started out as a small, humble entrepreneur, but Anika saw the growth, the excitement in his eyes when he came home in the evenings.
Anika’s observant eye also didn’t miss the new pieces of jewelry her mother sported.
One day, if she wanted, her father’s store could become hers. He’d said as much to her a year earlier when she’d tag along with him. It made her heart swell despite the whispers of her father being delusional, passing off a business to a young woman. He ignored them, winking at Anika every time.
“They don’t know the sharpness of your mind, dear, but I do,” he’d encouraged weeks ago.
So, she worked hard, writing until her hands cramped and her eyes blurred.
But tonight was different.
While soothed by her equations, something in the air was off. An anxiousness not even her mother’s cooking could erase; a lingering in her bones.
The telltale click of the front door opening stopped Anika’s pencil in its place.
Her father was home.
Her sock clad feet pressed into the linoleum, eager to see him after a long day, but another sound stopped her.
Hushed whispers.
And they didn’t belong to her father.
Looking at her mother, Anika’s eyebrows raised in an unspoken question. Who’s here?
Her mother set her own utensils down, turning the stove off before abandoning the food there.
Curiosity was also evident in her features as the crinkles around her eyes became more prominent.
Gesturing for Anika to stay put, she watched as her mother’s frame hovered in the doorway.
Her time worn fingers gripped the wood as her mom tilted her head in the direction of the sounds.
Anika opened her mouth to ask who it was but—
Bang!
The harsh sound ripped through the small house, decimating Anika’s ears.
Her mother jumped back into the kitchen, away from the source of the sound as Anika clasped her hands over her ringing ears.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she swore she heard groaning…
mumbled pleas, but another shot rang out through the house.
Hands gripped her shoulders, jostling her. Anika’s eyes snapped open, the brightness of the kitchen light blinding, but the worry etched into her mother’s face was worse. It was a look that would haunt her forever, she was sure of it.
Her mom’s lips moved, but Anika’s mind struggled to hear what she was saying.
Anika.
It was as if she was underwater, voice dim and faraway.
Anika.
Another desperate shake.
“Anika”—her hands fell from her ears—“you need to hide.”
“W-why?”
“Now.” Her mother didn’t answer, too busy pushing her toward the darkened hall behind them leading to the bedrooms. “Hide and don’t come out for anyone.” Ira’s hair tickled Anika’s nose at their closeness before her worried-filled eyes flicked across Anika’s own shocked face.
“I—”
“Did you hear me, Anika? Hide, now.”
Without another word, Anika ran.