-The same time Sam left to see Victor.
I slammed the door. What does he think he's saying? What does he even mean? He's become a maniac, a psychopath. Faiza–A cop? He doesn't make any sense. How can Faiza possibly be a Cop? Sam crossed all the boundaries, one can not tolerate this much bullshit.
I hear footsteps of someone.
"I don't want to hear it Sam!" I shout at him.
"Uh it's me." Faiza enters in. "Is this a bad time?"
"Ah no, I'm sorry, I thought it was Sam."
"Why do you look like you're going to smash this place." She asks.
"It's nothing. Agh Its not nothing, it's uhm, it's Sam, but don't worry about it." I flare my hand.
"Ifan I need to talk to you." She in a rush puts her purse down on my table.
"I want to share something with you as well. Good thing you came yourself." I say.
Its a burden and I need to throw it off of my chest. I'm going to tell Faiza everything, and she isn't going to react like a cop, which will prove that all that Sam said was bullshit. All utter crap. I'm going to prove that to him.
I make her sit down, she looks awfully tired.
"What is it?" I ask, we both settle in, sitting down.
"So I've been hearing these things for a while now, but I refused to believe any of that—but I don't think I can avoid it anymore, I want you to answer what I'm about to ask honestly." She says, she's hesitant.
"Of course. What's wrong?" I put my hand on hers, but she slowly moves her hands away from me.
"If this was our last conversation, what would you want me to never forget" she asks, her gaze softens in hurt.
"Is this the question?" I lightly laugh it off.
"No, but I want to know this first."
The corners of my lips slightly curl upwards. "Sure." I whisper.
I lean a bit closer toward her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "How your deep brown eyes remind me of the first time you kissed my lips. How I get reminded of you whenever I plant tulips for you in the soil so deep, so similar to your eyes. How I try to be as gentle with those flowers as you were with me when you held me tight. How I think of you when I water them just like how you lavished your love on me as one might." I say.
She smiles, but her eyes glimmered something else—A hint of sadness, a bit of fear, slight hatred towards me.
All those emotions combined, she looked at me for several minutes. And I didn't move baco either. I let her keep looking at me, with confusion, anger, and love.
"Why are you asking me this question baby? Are you sad? What's wrong, tell me." I ask.
"It's nothing, it's just that, the things I've been hearing are terrible." She covered her face with her hands.
"What did you hear?" I gently take her hand in mine, interlocking our fingers.
"What were you going to share with me?" She avoids what I asked her.
"I uhm, I'll tell you later."
"I want to know.."
She looked devastated, so I agreed.
"Okay neighour, I'll go first, just don't be upset." I give her a little pack on the lips, then moved back, so that we're face to face.
"I'm not who you think I am.." I say.
"That's what I heard, too." She says.
"I don't know what you heard, but I was in a horrible habitat." My voice trembles. I sigh. She's looking straight in my eyes, I can't hide anything anymore.
"But then I left that world behind me, because I wanted to become a better person, a different, more braver, more honest, a kind person." I gulp a painful lump down my throat as I steal a glimpse of her gaze.
"What did you do.." She asks, as if she's ready to hear whatever I have to say.
"This might change our situation, the entire base relationship. But I want you to know. I want you to hear me, and seen me for who I am, and for what I'm trying so hard to become, for you." I say, my voice low and steady.
Because I love you.
"Were you a drug dealer.." Her pupils grew thinner.
"How did—"
"I know. That's what I heard.. is this true?"
I lowered my head. "Yes" I whisper.
"It's okay." She lifts my face up to her by my chin.
"It is?" I ask, my gaze stayed soft but hurt.
She's being understanding?
I knew she wasn't a cop.
"What happend. Tell me everything, I'm here. You're not alone anymore." She gives me a kiss on the lips, then moved back, smiling consolingly. My eyes roved between hers, in surprise.
Wow.
I sigh in, ready to tell her everything.
"I used to work for Faisal, if you've heard of him."
"I haven't, but go on."
"But then I got tired of it and I decided to leave, but Sam.. I'm worried for him. He still works there, it's his home and I don't blame him. He sees Faisal as a role model, he sees a father in him." I tell her.
Faiza kept listening very carefully.
"And that's okay I guess, to come extend. But I wish he would've left with me. And that we could start a new life together, here. A fresh story. But he's after his—I shouldn't say, its not my story to tell but for all that mean. He's still stuck there, around people who aren't safe. I wish I could make him leave, protect him. If only he wanted to be protected from that place." I say. I look up at her. "I know what you're thinking.. manufacturing drugs is illegal, but some people like us get desperate—Alone. Some people like us have no option left but to do things we're not proud of, even if that means to harm others. We had to do it to give Ayat the life she deserved. The purpose Sam wanted. But I got lost inbetween. From thinking for Ayat to Sam, what I wanted got crushed. But Sam thought of us, about my passion to drive my favourite car. About Ayat's passion to pursue a career in business. About his desire. Sam's like an angle sent from heaven for me." My voice breaks and the corners of lips lift up in pettiness. I'm smiling but am I though?
"So Sam's still working for Faisal. The mob leader.." She says.
"Yes"
"And you worked for him too."
"That's about right."
"And both of you transported drugs for how long?"
"Close to nine years."
"How did you never got caught?" She asks.
I chuckle.
"We're sneaky." I tap her nose. "We get lessons. We learn about it."
"Ah.."
"Faiza you have no idea, how relaxed I feel, it's like a whole bunch of burden just lifted. I'm so glad you didn't react impulsively." I lean close to her. "Ideal sort of partner huh." I kiss her. As I move back I see her eyes are searching for more.
"Wait, All that you told me about Sam's work place in Troyvill—"
"Why did you staightup guessed it's Troyville where I worked." I slighly laugh. "It could be somewhere else..I don't think I ever mentioned the mob was in Troyville–" I pause, my mouth left opened, as my eyebrow get pulled down in subconsciousness.
We both paused.
"How do you know—" I ask.
Oh
Oh.
"You've told me Ifan." She says.
My eyes roved between hers in confusion.
"I mean, wherever you worked—"
"Wait." I interrupt her.
She has never turned this pale before.
And suddenly it hit me. Everything Sam said. What if, the ifs are the only sustainable options left for me to think, and I decided to go over the hill, and prove Sam's theory wrong.
"My throat is kinda dry." I stand up, and walked to my fridge.
"Uh sure. Bring some for me, too." She says. I nod, and opened the door of my fridge, covering my left arm, and I take out my phone, my hands shaking in unrecognisable disgust that I feel going up inside me.
"What is something only a dentist would know?"
I click the search button on Google.
Dentists know that the "mesiobuccal cusp" of an upper first molar tooth is the most common site for a "pitted fissure" which is a small, pinpoint depression in the enamel that can trap bacteria and increase the risk of tooth decay.
"Hey neighour" I call her.
"What's the best way to prevent bacteria from accumulating in pitted fissures? My tooth has been hurting." I don't face her yet, I avoid facing her, and stood around the counter to pour two glass of water for us.
"Using a fluoride varnish or sealant can help prevent it." She tells me.
I look over at my phone's screen where I had searched the answer.
"Using a fluoride varnish or sealant can help prevent bacteria from accumulating in pitted fissures."
"Ah.. fuck." I crack my neck, whispering in silence.
She just searched.
A smart move..
Smart enough to shatter me.
My heart sank. When I hear her taking a step toward me.
Don't let Sam prove his theory.
Please baby.
"Don't do this to me" I whisper under my breath, my hand clenched the glass tighter.
Don't do this to me.
She's silent. A cold dread crept up my spine.
"All those nights, those times we were together, all that fun we had, everything was a lie? Wasn't it.." I ask.
I turn around, and I see her standing still. A recorder in her hand.
Ah bloody hell.
I moan in pain, gasping, immediate tears welled up in my eyes.
"I'm sorry neighour, duty called. It wasn't personal." Her voice hit me like a bullet.
My heart collapsed into a knot. A knot too tight to let me breath out.
"It was all an act–?" My heart rate dropped, and dizziness spreads around me, tying me in a tight rope. A searing agnony ripped through my chest.
As I felt like fainting, I grasp the corner of my counter, to stand firm, clutching my stomach as a wave of nausea washed over me.
"None of it was—r..real?" I clutch my heart. All those times when I thought to myself, she's pretending to be nice, were true.
"Stand still." She orders.
"I don't believe it." I stood frozen. My hand still clutched.
"Well believe it now. We don't get merciful toward people who harm others with drugging them. We protect cilivan. Its duty neighour, don't take it to heart." Her voice is too stiff. Too fake. She isn't recognisable.
"Why are drugs wrong when your people are the ones taking it?" I raised my voice.
"I worked for him just like you work for your boss. Why am I the only one disgusting here, huh?" The pain I have in me made my voice echo.
"My boss doesn't order me to hurt people by illegal intoxication."
"Well ours do." I say with my chest puffed. If she can break a heart in the name of her career, then so can I.
She clicked something on her device, signaling someone. She has the audacity to look me in the eye, and brutally betray me like that.
What in the bloody hell Faiza.
Two of her cop partners, busted in, their gun pin pointed at me, as they surround themselves around, each standing on either side of Faiza.
And I don't know what to do. My heart broke.
I'm embarrassed that I didn't listen to Sam. I'm hurt, I'm shocked. But most of all, I'm numb.
A Deception this deep?
How did she managed to hold onto it for this long.
Is this who she really is?
The cop handed Faiza a radio, a gun, and handcuffs.
For me.
"Dispatch, this is Unit 12. I'm making an arrest at 345 Main Street, apartment. Can I get a backup unit to assist with transport, over." Faiza said into her radio. I didn't break our eye contact, not even for a single second.
She kept looking at me as If her life depends on it.
And I kept blinking, to wake up from this nightmare.
"Unit 12, this is Dispatch. Backup unit is on route. over." The voice came blunt through the radio.
The voice that crashed me. I stood still, all neglected and used. It's like I'm being haunted. Does she know that we bleed the same?
"Faiza what is this? Its not funny anymore, cut the act now please." I felt as though I'd been punched in the gut.
Just come home.
She's just stubbornly standing there. How awful of a heart does she carry with her? Why doesn't she feel heavy. How can it be that she never felt anything for me?
"All those moments where I poured my heart out to you, all those times when you'd comfort me, when you'd give me constant to touch you, to kiss you, to be with you, All that was obliquity. A bullshit game of yours?" I stammered.
"Hands up." She aimed her gun at me. I chuckle ironically as a tear fell down my chin. I wipe my eye as I smack my lips in sorrow. My eyes nearly fixed on her.
"I'm truly, madly, deeply— in love with you" That's when my voice quivered, and unnoticed tears went down my throat as I gulp the anxiety I felt when she still didn't lower the gun aiming at me.
She didn't care–but I did, I do. I always will.
How will I ever live again knowing I was never loved by her, knowing that all those moments where I was genuinely thinking- oh she really likes me–were fraud. Realising these moments not only turned out to be fraud but plain, dusty, blank words just to get something out of me. Knowing those words were as blank as pitch and always hallow, and meaningless. If police work really is worth tearing someone's heart, I'll become opinionated about it specificly and scream till my lungs are stopped, that its wrong. That we need to change the meaning of those rights, those fights which they mention in those qualified flies. Because justice is supposed to make people feel safe not afraid to ever love again.
And I'd rather be locked with her cuffing me, than to live without ever feeling the warmth of her smile, her arms around me again.
If her smile was ever genuine toward me.
I know her enough to spend a lifetime only remembering her.
I'll keep it safe in my head, the memory of her soft voice calling my name—The memory of her laughing at my stupid jokes. I'll remember it-
all too well.
"Put your hands where I can see them!" She shouts.
And I simply smiled.
"Arrest me all you want. But just tell me. Did you ever—even for a split minute felt anything for me?" I scoff in pain.
"I said Hands up Ifan! I won't repeat."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, but I didn't flinch. I had gotten numb. Instead, I took a deep breath, the sound I released was almost imperceptible, and I began to turn, my movement slow and deliberate. As I rotated, Faiza closed in, her hands reaching for my wrists, her cuffs at the ready. Placeing around my wrists. The sound of the metal clicking into place was like a cold, hard slap, echoing through the silence, as if I had lost..
Forever.
If I knew it all than would I do it again..
Would I?