Chapter 27
Zioh
Dark.
Noises rising and falling like waves in a storm around me.
Every breath was a struggle against an invisible tide, a fight to keep from drowning.
It’d been a week.
A week trapped in this endless circle of pitch black.
I was stuck in a coffin that was buried meters down. The air grew thin, but instead of screaming and clawing my nails to get out, I found myself just lying there. Death had already taken root, leaving no room to fight for life.
I started to forget what it felt like to have a steady heartbeat, and I couldn’t stop my head from shaking; it happened every second.
I had locked myself away in here for over a week. I hadn’t gone into the office because I couldn’t bear to open my eyes in the morning. A massive rock pinned me to the floor, making even the slightest movement an agony.
Even to hold a pencil or draw, the one thing that usually helps me drown out the blackness, I couldn’t.
Zaeem saw through me. He’d been handling the things I couldn’t, coaxing me with things I hated. Zeraiah also came in often to sit beside me. Sometimes he didn’t speak at all, just lay down on the bed, or on the carpet next to me, when I fell asleep on the floor of my study.
What happened at the restaurant a week ago took over my mind like a parasite, and I kept slamming my head, trying to tear away the memories of what I’d done.
As always, it happened when I was with Tshabina.
Always so easy when it was her.
Do you know I’m never afraid when you’re with me? I hope I can give you the same feeling, Zioh. Purple. 21.
Too heavy to keep my eyes open, but every time I closed my eyes, her face haunted me. Her face twisted with pain. I could feel it tearing through me. But it was because of her.
Heat tracked down my cheeks again, damp and stinging.
Another choked, pitiful sound escaped my throat, thin this time, as though it was all I had left. Pain on the outside might cover it up.
I jerked my head from side to side.
Everything should be clear, but it was grey, full of illusions. Still, what happened, what she did, was real. That was what mattered. That was the most important thing to remember.
My chest tightened again.
I held the faucet and turned it off. The water had been pouring out of the bathtub for who knew how long. I pushed my head under, trying to blur the world away. When the burning hit, I lifted my face, grabbing the floor to keep myself upright as I forced myself out.
Pathetic. The worst of all of this was knowing I’d had to face her again.
Seeing her again. Relived it all and was haunted by the thought of it because I couldn’t run.
Because she was the one who did it. Because even the smallest glance at her was enough to draw me back.
Hatred. It reminded me of a deceptive hatred.
Crazy. Made the truth disappear into the darkness.
I wanted to punch myself for being like this, especially with the mountain of work waiting. Projects in London. Projects here. All piling up.
I needed to pull myself together.
Distanced myself.
That was the only way to hold myself steady again.
I’m sorry, sir. I’m at Mr Zioh’s penthouse. One, two, three, four. I came because they said there was a prospective buyer, but the woman’s here again. One, two, three, four. She says she won’t leave unless Zioh meets her. One, two, three, four.
Fuck!
I grabbed my bathrobe and slipped it on, walking to the nightstand. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, reaching blindly for my AirPods. The bathroom mirror had just been replaced, and I kept my eyes averted. My own reflection was a provocation, a reason to hurl the nearest object at the glass.
I pressed my AirPods into my ears. Voices chattered at me as I stepped out of the bathroom and headed towards the walk-in closet.
But then—
My Dad. Right there, in my study.
And I stopped dead.
I halted, and an icy chill seeped into my skin, even as my blood burned inside me. He was scheming something. Even back in the UK, he never stopped.
Changing course, I stepped quickly into my study. He stood beside my desk. Damn it.
My heart slammed against my ribs, and I glanced up at the ceiling. Even though Zaeem had already taken down the cameras, safety was an impossibility with him here.
“What are you doing here, Dad?” My voice came out in a rush and cold. My eyes burned into him as he lingered over the papers on my desk.
Blueprints. My designs for Artamain’s new office project, along with scattered sketches for the London work, too.
What was he planning?
My pulse blurred into the noise. Loud.
“It’s great, Zi,” he hummed, his eyes never leaving my drawings. “I always knew my son was talented.” Then he turned, smiling with that proud, bloody, sickening smile. “Even though your brother’s back, you’ll still be the project manager, won’t you?” His calm voice made my skin crawl.
My breath was ragged, and I shoved my wet hair back, harder than I meant to. I strode over, yanking the papers from under his hands, glaring at him as I forced myself to hold back, not to shatter that disgusted smile.
“Get out.”
“Oh, don’t be like that.” He tilted his head, humming. “This is my project too. That company is mine as well.”
My jaw clenched hard. “Then let’s talk after the conference,” I said through gritted teeth. “Properly.”
My father nodded, clicking his tongue as he wandered the room. “How are you? Still refusing to talk to me?” His eyes scanned my space.
Sweat prickled cold down my spine, and I dragged my hands over my face.
He hummed again. “I always thought your brother was on my side. But I know he’s been hiding things about you and Zeraiah.
” He now turned to look at me, and I met his eyes with a shaky gaze.
My trembling hands clenched together. “Always saying he’d look after you both.
But I always knew there were things he kept for himself. Isn’t that right, Zioh?”
Everything fell silent, leaving only the thud of my heart and the ticking of the clock greeting my ears. The contrast was cruel, the clock moving in a steady rhythm, while my heart felt like it was about to crack my ribs apart.
Shaking my head, I swallowed hard. He planned something…. He always did.
“So many things happened in the UK. But I know there are things you’ve kept from me.” His gaze sharpened, piercing me. “You’ve lied, haven’t you, Zioh?”
I stayed silent. Pretending not to shake, pretending to be normal. But it was as though he held control, slowly shutting off my ability to breathe. My hands grew numb.
He mustn’t know.
He mustn’t find out.
Desk. Papers. Computer. Pencil. Sofa—one, two, three—
A small breath escaped him, his eyes softening—a trick. I wouldn’t fall for it.
“You’re talented, son. You know the airport and station projects in a few years—”
I told you so.
“Stop.” My voice was sharp, cold. I knew where he was going. No, I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t let him trap me.
“Enough,” I warned, my voice trembling but firm. “I won’t stay here any longer. I’ll only help Mas Zaeem once. Just once.” Or I’d truly go crazy. I wouldn’t stay. Not with him.
My Dad smirked. “I know the real reason you agreed to return isn’t just because your brother begged.” He arched a brow. “Come on, you hate being here. Being here triggers you. Just like your grandfather’s house in the UK. Triggers you, doesn’t it?”
Hate. A cold sweat dripped down even more. Stop,” I growled.
“All the things tied to your mother, and that girl. Tshabina. They’ll trigger you, won’t they?”
“STOP!”
Air scraped down my throat but never reached my lungs. A shrill ringing flooded my ears. His words were about to come true.
Why did he keep tormenting me? “Please… stop.”
I kept shaking my head when it roared.
“Why? Are you doing it again? Assuming the worst that I—”
“GOD! JUST STOP!” I screamed. Breath ripped out of me. I couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t I breathe?
My father nodded, cold and sure. “I’m so disappointed. My children are hiding things. Lying, even.” His eyes narrowed on me. “If you’re lying, Zioh, then I’ll—”
I shook harder. “Just get out, Dad—”
“Cindy.”
I blanked.
“Hhh…”
“The reason you came back wasn’t just your brother. It was Cindy, too, wasn’t it?”
My ears rang, blaring.
“You want to run away from her.”
My eyes trembled, staring straight through him. I felt dead and alive all at once. How could he do this to me…
Defective.
“My people told me she keeps coming to your penthouse. Doesn’t she know you’re moving away?”
I moved back a step, but only my soul seemed to retreat while my body stayed frozen. Everything grew hazy, as though a fog crept over my vision.
I expected it. He always did this, to me, to my siblings, especially to me. Because he knew I was the one who could embarrass him the most, and that was right. He was doing this on purpose, to punish me for it.
Shutting my eyes tight, I shook my head. “D-Dad…” I rasped, my lips heavy, dry. “I-I beg you… don’t.”
“That girl knows everything about you, doesn’t she?” His steps shortened, his voice calm but sharp. “She’s the only one left who can tell me what happened to you two in the UK—”
No, no, no.
Before he could finish, I snapped. I lunged at him and grabbed his collar with my trembling hands. “Dad,” I begged, my voice broken, and I shook my head. “If you really care about me… Don’t.”
“Then talk to me!” he snapped back, yanking my hands away, pointing straight at me. “You’ll talk, Zioh. You hear me?! If not, I’ll tell Cindy myself. That girl’s crazy enough to come here, isn’t she?”
My knees trembled, and it took everything in me to stay upright, especially as the walls seemed to draw nearer, pressing in on us.
“If not from you, I’ll hear it from Cindy’s mouth. Do you understand?!” he pressed, his voice cutting before brushing off his shirt and storming out of my study.
Leaving me.
I was shaking. My lips cracked as I dragged my hands down my face, my vision blurring with heat. My body felt light, and I fell hard to the floor.
With trembling hands, I crawled to my desk drawer, pulling it open, and its contents spilt everywhere.
My blurred eyes scanned the floor, and I grabbed at the scattered pills.
They kept falling, so I grabbed them again with both hands.
My throat burned, and a pathetic sob wrenched from my throat as I forced them down.
Still shaking, I searched for my phone like a maniac, my eyes darting, and it was there, on the table. I clung to the desk leg, dragging my useless body up just enough to reach for it. My palms were slick with sweat, slipping, and I barely managed to press the button.
My phone started ringing with the name ‘Sophie’ up there. It rang for too long, and there was no answer.
I tried again.
I slumped against the desk and placed my hand holding the ringing phone on my thigh. Please. My breath felt heavier, and my free hand tried to keep my phone. My vision blurred further every second. Please. I tried to breathe and see—carpet, window, curtains, books, papers, Tshabina.
Finally, the ringing stopped, but there was no sound from there. I tried to regulate my breathing and, with every shred of strength, I lifted the phone to my ear.
“P-please… Plea-se Tshabina… h-help me, hel-p me… I… do—” my voice broke, gagged. I didn’t even realise when the tears streamed down my face. “P-please… Tshabina… h-help me.”