My family had once been warm. My mother had died giving birth to my younger sister, June. While I never blamed my sister, because the fault did not lie with her, my father couldn't stand to be around her, much less take care of her. June had been an accident; I guess some could say a fatal accident, but one which I loved with my whole soul. It fell on my shoulders to raise a child ten years younger than I.
Father was relieved when I asked to look after her, and once I had turned eighteen he signed over guardianship to me. He provided me with a stipend, which paid for rent while I had been in college studying nursing. At some point, it had become too difficult to stay in school while taking care of June, and I had to drop out.
I could have left her with father, but I knew she wouldn't have been cared for and probably would have rotted away much sooner. Father doesn't despise June, she just looks so much like mom that he has to have a bottle on hand whenever she's in the room. June just looks too similar to the soul who had given up life for her survival.
I had often felt a pang of sadness, when studying June, but I would have given up anything to keep her. He should have felt the same way.
Father, at one point, had been a brilliant man who I respected before I even knew what respect was. He was like a warm lazy river, guiding me along as I matured and grew. I think something in him snapped when mom died.
No longer did he have any thirst to look out beyond the house walls.
So, June became my whole world, and when she got sick. I felt lost.
Often times, I would look around my world and only see soft gray hues. No color to be seen. My world felt benign.
Every morning now, I awake next to a cold empty space. In our small studio, June would sleep with me every night she could. I at first had resisted, but her warmth and the pleading in her voice would always eventually break me.
I miss her.
It's time to get up, the voice in my head sounds as I stare a beat longer at the untouched side of the bed. Her side of the bed.
I lift my tired head up and look through the soft bronze curtain of hair at my phone.
"Shit." I mutter before lifting myself all the way up. I swung myself out of bed and cursed some more when my feet touched the cold floors. Everything felt cold these days.
I bumbled around the studio trying to get ready to see my friend Delilah. I hadn't seen her since high school, and she was in town for the weekend. I figured my little pity party could pause for a friend who reminded me of better things.
I was still tired from the graveyard shift at the diner, but pushed myself into a simple blue sweater and some black jeans. Shoving my feet into my pair of boots, I grabbed my purse before leaving the studio. I didn't bother with make-up or looking in the mirror.
While June had, had rich dark brown hair and purple-brown eyes, my features were lighter. I had long ago given up on taming my thick bronze colored hair, and I knew if I looked in the mirror I would see tired golden brown eyes. The Japanese half of our bloodline didn't show much in my features except for my almond shaped eyes and pale skin.
I was rounding the corner of my apartment, walking briskly to meet Delilah at the bar we had agreed upon, when I tripped on a foot. I had almost fallen before catching myself on the brick of the wall. My head snapped around to see an injured man bleeding onto the sidewalk.
This was none of my business. Shit, I probably shouldn't have seen any of this! My city, no, the whole state was controlled by the Kito conglomerate. The killings are sort of an open secret throughout all of California. We all know they happen, but very few bodies are found.
Some people just go "missing," especially in bad neighborhoods like mine. Maybe someone takes care of the bodies or something, but this had been my first time seeing one despite many of my missing neighbors..
I crouched down to take his pulse, feeling a steady rhythm. I wrestled with my conscience for a minute before dashing back into my home and grabbing medical supplies.
His breathing is a little more labored when I return, but his heart is still beating steadily. I prod the right side of his chest looking for the wound. God, blood stains his whole body. Lifting his shirt, I catch the bullet wound a little below his pectorals.
A feeling of determination rushes into my body. He's not going to die.
The bullet had, thankfully, entered and exit cleanly through his abdomen. No ribs broken, but working quickly, I was able to stitch him up and bandage him before the bleeding became too severe..
I could have called the cops, ambulance, anyone really, but if he was part of the conglomerate controlled by Kito, and I suspected he was somehow a part of this, then both of us could possibly end up dead. I might have witnessed something that wasn't supposed to be seen. And if the man in front of me was an enemy of the Kito clan, then the hospital would do a fat load of nothing to save him.
I didn't dare to take any chances.
I pulled down his shirt after securing the bandages and smiled to myself. He was hopefully going to be ok enough to walk away before anyone found him. I put two advils, the only painkillers I had in my house, and packed up my medical supplies.
Studying him for a second, I realized he was quite handsome. Though, even while sleeping his mouth was set at a grim line. I wanted to laugh at how perfect the expression seemed on this dark man. He was very tan, almost black, and his hair was so dark it absorbed all light that hit it. His jaw was sharp and covered in stubble. His body was quite muscled, but he seemed almost lean with how tall he was.
With one last glance at him, I walked off toward the bar.
