The air in Room 406 is heavy with the scent of antiseptic and dying lilies. It's a sharp, clinical smell that stings the back of my throat, a constant reminder that life here is measured in milliliters and heartbeats. It is a smell of disinfectants, hand sanitizer, drugs, agony, pain and everything in between. Through the window, the sprawling, neon veins of Los Angeles flicker like distant, uncaring diamonds. Right now, all I can see are double images, and it seems like my world is spiraling.
Tick ! Tick ! Tick !
The wall clock is a steady, rhythmic torture. I sit by the bed, my mahogany skin looking pale and ashen under the harsh fluorescent lights. I catch my reflection in the darkened window, high cheekbones, deep brown eyes framed by thick lashes now wet with exhaustion, and hair that falls in dark, lush waves over my shoulders. My father used to tuck a strand behind my ear and whisper, "You are my Dazzling Star, Jatavia, no one can dim your light." He's been gone for years, his laughter a fading echo, and now the only light I have left is flickering out.
"Jatavia..." My mother's voice is a dry rasp, a ghost of the vibrant woman who used to dance in our kitchen when the sun hit the tiles just right. Her fingers, now skinnier than I remember them being.
"I'm here, Mum. I'm right here." I reach for the plastic cup on the bedside table, my own hands shaking so violently that water sloshes over the rim, wetting the clinical sheets. I just want my mum here forever.
"Listen to me," she whispers, her grip suddenly tightening with a strength that terrifies me. She presses something hard, cool, and metallic into my palm. It's the gold locket. My father's locket. "The debt... Bel... you must stay away, Ja … Jata… Jatavia. Protect the star."
"Mum, don't talk … Don't talk at all, just drink." I lift the cup to her lips, my heart beating in a frantic rhythm against my ribs. My hands are shaking, like my world is about to crash. "Mum … Please, just stay with me."
"Protect... it..." Her eyes wander, losing focus, and then her head falls back against the pillow with a finality that stops my heart. My world pauses.
The steady beep of the monitor suddenly stretches into a flat, piercing scream.
The world tilts. The floor feels like it's liquefying beneath my feet.
"Mum ? Mum ! No, no, no!" I grab her shoulders, shaking her, waiting for her to blink, to scold me, to breathe. But she's heavy. She's still. My tongue feels like lead in my mouth. The plastic cup slips from my hand, hitting the floor with a hollow thud, but the silence in her chest is louder.
Something inside me snaps. I feel my heart pounding, my teeth gnashing, my ribs cracking, my hands tightening into a fist. The taste of my tears burns, as it enters my mouth. The cup hitting the ground and all I can hear is my world shattering.
Crash.
The sound of shattering glass is a relief. I want everything to break. I want the world to feel as fractured as I am. I scream, a raw, jagged sound that tears through my throat and echoes off the cold tiles. I grab the vase of wilting lilies and smash it. I tear at the monitors, the trays, the IV stands, throwing them into the abyss of my grief. My teeth clench so hard my jaw aches; sweat drips down my neck, mixing with the hot tears blurring my vision. The taste in my mouth is salty.
"You can't leave me!" I howl, my fists balled so tight my nails draw blood from my palms. "I have no one! Dad is gone, and now you … everyone leaves! Why does everyone leave?"
I am a storm of mahogany and rage, standing in a sea of broken glass and spilled water. I am shattering, crumbling into a thousand pieces of wasted hope.
The heavy double doors of the ward don't just open; they are thrown back with a force that hits the walls like a gunshot.
It isn't a doctor. It isn't a nurse. It's the sound of boots, heavy, synchronized, and terrifying. Thump. Thump. Thump. A wall of men in dark, charcoal suits floods the room, their faces like masks of stone. An entourage. And then, the air in the room changes. The clinical smell of death is suddenly smothered by something intoxicating, sandalwood, rain, and a cologne so expensive it smells like power, elegance, and dominance.
A man steps through the center of the line.
He is a towering silhouette of bronze skin and sharp, tailored edges. He's devastatingly handsome, with a jawline carved and very sharp, it can cut through anything, and eyes the color of a stormy sea dark, hungry, and ancient. He looks at the chaos, the broken glass, my pounding chest, my mother's body and he doesn't blink. He doesn't show pity. He looks at me like he's finally found something he's been hunting for a very long time.
"The hospital administration was ready to hand your mother's body to the state and you to the collectors." he says, his voice a low, velvet purr that makes the hair on my arms stand up. "I've already authorized the final payment. The hospital is satisfied. But I am not."
"Payment?" The word tastes like poison. "Who … Who are you?" I stutter. "Get out! My mother just... she's... get out!" All I can feel is pain at the moment, as my heart thumps like it will jump out of my chest. I can hear my heart beat at this point.
He takes a step forward, his presence stealing the oxygen from the room. "The grieving daughter," he muses. "You have your father's fire, Jatavia."
"How … You… Who are … how do you know my name?" I demand, my voice trailing off with panic. "Who are you?"
"I am the man who holds your life in his ledger," he says, his gaze dropping to the locket clutched in my bloodied hand. "I am Telvin … Telvin Bellarie. And you, Dazzling Star, are finally going to pay your father's debt."
"Debt?" The word tastes like poison. "My father is dead. My mother is …" I choke on the word, gesturing wildly at the bed. "He doesn't owe you anything! Leave us alone!" Dazzling Star ? How does he know my father calls me that? I think.
Telvin Bellarie doesn't move. He doesn't have to. With a microscopic flick of his chin, the four men behind him surge forward.
"Secure her," Telvin commands. His voice isn't loud, but it carries the weight of an executioner's blade. His voice commands so much authority.
"Don't touch me!" I scream. As the first guard reaches for my arm, I grab the heavy metal chart-holder from the foot of the bed and swing it with every ounce of my grief-fueled rage. It connects with his shoulder with a sickening thud, and I don't wait to see if he falls.
I bolt.
I dive past Telvin, my shoulder brushing his expensive wool coat. For a split second, I feel the heat radiating off him, a magnetic pull that tries to slow me down, but the terror is stronger. I burst through the double doors into the hallway.
"Get her. Gently," I hear Telvin's voice echo behind me.
Gently. The word makes my skin crawl.
A nurse comes, yells something, a warning, maybe, but I cannot decipher what she is saying. My shoulder hits a metal cart, and the vibration rattles my teeth, but I don't stop. I can't stop. I feel shock all over my body.
My heart is a drum, beating a frantic run-run-run against my ribs. I look back and see them, four shadows in charcoal suits, moving with the terrifying efficiency of predators. They aren't running; they are loping, closing the distance with every stride.
I veer into the service stairwell, my heart thumping hard as I am running. All I am thinking of is how to escape. My foot slips on a slick patch of floor, I go down hard, my knee slamming into the metal edge of a step.
"Ug…Ugh!" My legs are in pain, I feel a mixture of physical pain and pain from losing everything I have. The fall is blinding. For a second, I see stars, the wrong kind.
Get up, Jatavia. Protect the star.
I scramble to my feet, my palms raw and stinging, and push through the heavy fire door at the bottom. As my feet touch the ground I feel it burning. I burst out into the cool, humid night air of Los Angeles. The hospital parking lot is a maze of steel and glass. I can hear the sirens in the distance, not for me, but for the city that doesn't know my world just ended.
"There!" a voice shouts.
I don't look back. I head for the tree line, toward the jagged cliffs that overlook the Pacific. The ground changes from pavement to dirt, then to sharp, high rock. I stumble, my ankle twisting, sweat stinging my eyes, blurring the moonlight. My lungs feel like they're filled with broken glass. As I swallow, my throat feels very rough, like something is in the way of every saliva I swallow.
I reach the edge. The trail ends abruptly, dropping off into a three-hundred-foot plunge into the churning, black throat of the ocean. The wind up here is a physical force, whipping my hair into a frenzy, stinging my cheeks.
I spin around, my back to the abyss.
Telvin emerges from the shadows of the cypress trees. He's alone now, his guards standing ten feet back like a wall of stone. He hasn't broken a sweat. His tie is perfectly straight, his eyes fixed on me with a terrifying, quiet intensity.
"You're out of breath, Jatavia," he says, stepping into the moonlight. Up close, he is a masterpiece of danger. "And you're out of room."
"Who… are you?" I choke out. My voice is a wreck, a shredded version of itself. I wipe a streak of sweat and dirt across my forehead with the back of my hand. "My father… he was a good man. He didn't deal with monsters like you."
"Your father was a dreamer," Telvin says, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. I see the muscle jump in his jaw, a tiny crack in his mask. "And dreamers are expensive, Jatavia. He gambled with my father's empire. He signed a blood-oath debt. Since he couldn't pay, and your mother is… cold… the debt falls to you. You are the only Bellarie asset left."
A hysterical, jagged laugh bubbles up in my throat. "Asset? You think I'm a line on a spreadsheet?" I clench my fist, the gold locket biting so deep into my palm I can feel the pulse of my own blood against the metal. "I am a human being. I am a person, and I will never, ever follow you."
"You don't have a choice," he says. He's closer now. I can smell him, that sandalwood and rain. He smells like elegance, power, mystery, and for a terrifying second, my body betrays me. My heart flutters, not from fear, but from the raw, magnetic power he radiates. It makes me hate myself. It makes me want to scream.
"No I do !" I yell, stepping back. My heel slips. A shower of pebbles drops off the edge, and the sound of them hitting nothingness is the most honest thing I've heard all night. "I did rather be a memory than a slave to a ghost's debt !"
Telvin's eyes widen. For the first time, I see it, a flash of pure and unmixed panic. His hand reaches out, fingers twitching as if he can catch the air between us. "Step away from the edge, Jatavia. Don't make me take you by force."
"You can't take what's gone!" I scream, the wind catching my words and throwing them into the dark. I look at him, this beautiful, terrifying man who thinks he can own a star. I think of Mum's last breath. I think of Dad's laugh, I am nothing without them, I want to go with them.. "I'm a star, And stars are meant to burn out!"
I close my eyes and I let go.
The last thing I hear is my name ripped from his throat, raw and desperate.
"JA … JATAAAVIAAAA!!!
Then, there is only the wind.