All characters are over eighteen. This series contains non-consensual mind control and impregnation.
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*****
"Mrs. Lebrun, I need that money."
"I'm sorry, Miss Ysrayl, but if the accounting department says it's been paid, then there's nothing I can do."
I was holding back tears and the word I wanted to use so much: Bitch! Unfortunately, I couldn't see how that would end well when I was talking to my boss.
Vanessa Lebrun probably didn't even remember my name was Miriam. She was the local business owner of a number of restaurants, one of which I worked at.
Now that I had graduated with a degree in Mechanical Engineering, it was time to move on. Mrs. Lebrun made a great show of claiming to support students in our college town. Anyone who served for at least three years was supposed to receive a bonus once they had a full-time job lined up. Except that I hadn't received mine, even though the accounting department insisted it had already been paid.
We kept going back and forth until I got the feeling that Mrs. Lebrun actually enjoyed turning me down. I swallowed my pride and said, "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Lebrun."
I turned and left before I had to endure any retort from her.
My eyes watered as I walked away from her office. I knew exactly why I'd been turned down: I was a Black woman. Mrs. Lebrun could walk right over me without ever having to worry about the consequences. Nothing I did would ever put a dent in her. I was no threat.
There was nothing I could do except catch a bus ride home. That was one of the nice things about living in a college town: free public transit. The downside was that I was always forced to sit in the back. Anywhere where no one else could see me.
It was the same everywhere. Grocery stores, movie theaters. Even after all these years, I still hated it. The way people's eyes would linger on my scars before hurriedly looking away. As any burn victim will tell you, being a survivor is hard enough; being reminded of it every day is worse. It forces me to constantly relive the night I almost died.
What should've been one of the best days of my life turned into the worst. Mom and I had gone out celebrating my thirteenth birthday. Since my older sister was staying with some friends for the night, it was just the two of us. That alone time meant more to me than any present. We didn't have much money since dad died, but we were happy. Mom and I hugged and kissed each other goodnight. I fell asleep wearing one of the biggest smiles of my life.
It was pure luck that saved me. I was already awake when I smelled the smoke. In what seemed like seconds, our entire house was engulfed in flames. I barely made it out. I was covered in burns, but at least I was alive. Mom wasn't so lucky.
Right from the beginning, arson was suspected. I'd seen several men run off just before the fire broke out. The police took my statement, but months passed without any progress. It slowly dawned on me that they just didn't care.
Makeup helped hide some of the burn scars on my face, but nothing could ever hide the loss of my mom or the pain I felt. Nor would time fix the rest of my body. I will never be able to have children or have sex without unbearable pain.
I forced myself to bury all the anger I felt. There was still one place in the universe that still felt safe and predictable: My boyfriend, Cal Thomas.
*****
"Hey, sweetie," came the reply as soon as I walked in the door. "Any luck?"
"Nope," I shook my head. "Mrs. Lebrun kept saying it's already been paid. She wouldn't even look into it."
"Ouch," he winced.
After holding back for several seconds, I sighed in defeat. "Cal, what are we going to do? That job offer will be rescinded soon if we can't secure relocation."
"I know," he said. Cal and I both had great job offers available, ones we really wanted. Unfortunately, it required relocating, and Cal and I were nearly broke. Without that bonus Mrs. Lebrun promised, we wouldn't be able to afford it.
"How much longer do you have?" he asked.
"One week," I croaked. If I couldn't get a guarantee of enough money to relocate by Monday, my dream job would be gone.
"I'm sorry, sweetie," he said before he pulled me into a gentle hug.
I allowed myself to relax a little. Cal and I met during our first semester. Today, we were living in a tiny apartment at the edge of campus. It was miserable at times, but we made it through. Now everything was threatening to fall apart because of this one thing. I spent the rest of the afternoon brainstorming, trying to find some other way of making enough money by Monday, but came up empty.
Until Cal suddenly asked, "Hey, do you have any close aunts?"
I frowned. "I have an aunt. We aren't very close, though. Why?"
"I got a call from her lawyer's office. Said your aunt had passed away and left you something that she wanted you to pick up."
That was surprising. I hadn't heard from my Aunt Tammi in many years. Not since before Mom died. She used to come over all the time. I never found out why she stopped, but after I didn't see or hear from her after Mom's death, I lost interest.
"I'll stop by after work tomorrow," I shrugged.
*****
I wasn't sure what awaited me when I reached the address Cal gave me. I walked inside and knocked on the glass door until someone answered.
"Hi. How can I help you?"
"Um, my name is Miriam Ysrayl," I said. "Tammi was my aunt. I got a call saying that she died and left something for me?"
"Oh, yes. Come on in," the older man welcomed me. "Follow me back here."
I was led to a room with several collections of what I assumed to be Aunt Tammi's belongings.
"Have a seat," the man said. "Just give me a minute to find it."
I admit I was a little disappointed. His words implied that my aunt hadn't left me much.
"So, what's all this about, anyway?" I asked while I waited for him to finish. "I haven't heard from my aunt in years. What happened to her?"
"Well, Ms. Ysrayl, I'm sorry to say that your aunt recently died of cancer. I'm afraid she didn't leave many possessions behind because of all the medical bills, but there was one thing she explicitly said was meant for you, a box. She said she hoped it would help make amends for being absent since the death of your mother."
Are you kidding me? I thought. All she left me is a box, and she thinks that's going to make up for abandoning me and my sister?!
Then I saw the object in his hands, and I instantly knew: this was no ordinary box. The outer case was covered in gold and meticulous patterns. There were even some jewels adorning the sides. It looked ancient. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised: Aunt Tammi was an archeologist.
It was encased in a heavy lock, protected with a single-digit rotating dial. My first thought was that it looked like overkill for something so small.
"She didn't say what was inside," he said, correctly guessing what was on my mind. "She wouldn't tell me what the combination was, either. Just that it had to do with, and I quote, 'The last thing your mother called me before I left.'"
I remembered that. It was a long time ago, but I remembered that one of the things mom called her was "rockhead." I had to fight not to laugh. Mom always said her sister was the most stubborn person she ever met. I kept it to myself that she could be pretty determined herself sometimes.
I thought it was a bit childish at the time, but this seemed serious. Some quick math told me that turning the letters into decimals would be eleven digits long. Whatever was inside, Aunt Tammi didn't want anyone but me to see it.
It was getting late, so I bagged the box and thanked the man for his time. When I got back, Cal wasn't home yet.
My curiosity about the box was still high, so I decided to try opening it, but that was easier said than done. The motors rotated slowly, probably to discourage anyone from cracking it by brute force. I messed up the combination several times, requiring me to start over again. I half-wondered if there was some sort of failsafe to destroy whatever was inside if I entered the wrong combo too many times.
It took more than ten minutes, but I managed to get the lock off. As soon as I opened it, the entire room seemed to glow in a mysterious blue light. At the center was some sort of jewel. Attached to it was a silver chain so that it formed some kind of locket. Beside it was some type of folded paper. It took several minutes before I could bring myself to tear away from the light and read what was on the note.
Dear Miriam,
If you are reading this letter, it is because I have finally lost my battle with cancer. Although that may make you feel sad, I know it will not bring you grief. I was gone from your life for too long.
Miriam, I swear I didn't know about what happened to you or your mother. I was only told about the death of my sister long after it happened, and I was never told about what happened to you.