"Well Cara, have you decided how you are going to go about?" IM asks me.

I bite my lip and lower my head a little. "No ma'am, not exactly." I mumble

IM looks up surprised from her work. "No? What do you mean no? What were you and Mr. Asher doing when he was here?" She raises an eyebrow.

Fighting. Insulting. Threatening. 

"Well he gave me a brief idea about the things and asked me to meet him again where he will let me know about all the details." I explain.

"Ummhmm." IM nods then goes back to going through the heaps of papers sprawled across her desk. I stand there awkwardly not knowing what to do. She stops and looks up. "What are you doing here? Waiting for an auspicious minute to leave?" She asks wiping her reading glasses. "Go in and set up your meeting with Mr.Asher right now." She says.

 "Oh yeah..I'll just..go." I point at the door and frisk out.

I sigh walking to my small cabin and glance around at the bare white walls, the huge glass window overlooked the main street. The cars were lined up in traffic and behind the tall skyscrapers framed the horizon. I keep my hand on the cool glass and the labradorite bracelet glisten in the sunlight streaming through.

Rubbing my thumb over the small, smooth stones, my thoughts drift to how it has always been. Ever since I lost my parents in the fatal accident years back, I don't remember a moment which passed without a streak of worry. Seven years ago, the police concluded that it was just a result of reckless driving on the part of the truck driver who slammed in our car. He apparently lost control or was drunk, as reported. Everything after that is a blur. I guess the car overturned, I guess something hit me really hard at the back of my head or I think I broke through the window glass and fell out.

I break into sweat as I recollect and sit down on the futon. I have had nightmares about it continuously for many months and the sound of the skidding tyres and crash was sonorous enough for me to cover my ears. 

Initially, since we didn't have any relative, or any that I knew of, since I don't recount our family ever visiting or even talking about any, nor do I recollect being visited by any. The police decided to send us to a foster home but as I was all already eighteen and just a month was left for my schooling to end, so I decided to stay and took Matt under my guardianship. He had just turned six. 

Tears prickle my eyes and a lump forms in my throat, that accident had left just a sliver chance of him surviving but he made it through. Our parents were declared brought dead to the hospital. I don't know who paid all the hospital and medical bills because when I asked about it I was informed that all was clear. I did contemplate about it but the staff told me not to worry so I stopped. I had other things at hand and one thing less was just a small relief. 

Though a vague memory always haunts me, over the deafening sound of the crash, I wonder about hearing another sound mixed in faintly. The sound of gunshots. I cannot exactly pinpoint whether it was the sound of a gun going off or not, maybe I mistook something else as that. The though seemed quite absurd.

One day, after a month or two, the police officer came and informed how there is distant relative who has offered to help financially. Even on my denial, he insisted that I should take it. He also assured that he had ran a check on the person and found no glitch, so since then I started receiving monetary aid from him till I started earning my own money. I remember getting a letter from my so called 'uncle' which stated how since now that I am self sufficient, he will stop his monthly shower of funding. The letter was slid randomly from beneath the door and I don't think anyone rang the bell. It was sealed neatly in a plain white envelope with no stamp or post office or any courier service mark which showed someone had just delivered it personally. It was completely blank and was sealed with a transparent sticker, a scorpion inscribed on it. The letter too had no name or address and signed off with just 'your uncle' . 

Now that I think about it, it seems stupid of me to take help from a person who was no less than a stranger, but there was never any trouble so I let things happen the way they were. I took up small odd jobs initially till I completed my degree in design and management. I always tried to save up all I can but couldn't do much since the jobs were not very rewarding. I had also received all the investment and security money my parents had left in my name which kept us going long. After all, I had Matt, the house and my own self to look after. From the barely sufficient jobs, then to small firms, this job is like a dream come true. I regained the hope that there will be a day when everything will be fine. But I still have to prove myself to get the stability I require in this position and am determined to do so. 

Some points were so terrible that they made me wish I had not survived that accident. Even though all my injuries are healed now, it did give me a permanent scar and an irreparable damage. 

My thought drift to my parents. I was always the child they were worried about since I never played by their rules. Not that I didn't love them, just that I was caught up in the superficial teenage frenzy. I recall how once, just before they left forever, my dad had asked me if I could spare sometime for he wanted to tell me something. I didn't pay heed and made the excuse that I had something important unfinished work left to complete, in reality there was no work and they knew it too. Maybe I had stated taking things for granted, had started taking them for granted, life for granted. I will never know what he wanted to tell me, so many words left unspoken.  But now that they are not here anymore, I realise their importance.

I realise how there are some strings you cannot afford to break.

My train of thoughts is broken by my phone. I search for it in my pockets and fish it out. I smile through my tears, which had sprung earlier, as I see the name flash.

"How long has it been? I almost thought that you are dead or something." I speak after receiving. 

"No matter how much time passes by, you know I will always get back to you." He exaggerates in a dramatic voice.

"That is purely gross for me to hear. Too cheezy." I laugh.

"Well you are the only girl who brings this side out of me." He continues and I know he is smirking.

"Stop it Daniel, be thankful that you are my best friend which make me tolerate your corny talks." I roll my eyes. "So whom did you try it on this time? Did it work?" 

"Yes it did, lasted for two days."

"Two days?"

"Yes and that's good, I am aiming for even lesser. You know its just for the satisfaction of my 'manly needs'. " He says and I sigh.

"Oho, since when did you start being euphemistic?" I raise an eyebrow.

"I am not, you know that too." He laughs.

"Umhmm, who else will know you better?" I smile.

"That's right, I miss you so much Cara. My life has become fucking monotonous! Damn you corporate law!" He curses.

"Well I did warn you against-"

"Yes, yes my dear Cara, yes I know you did. But I want money, money money money." He sings. "Also the reason why I called you this fine day is, I will be soon there to see your ugly face!" He chirps and I jump in my seat.

"What! Really!?" I squeal.

"Yeah! Now I need to go since I can't afford to talk much while in office." He informs and hangs up.

"Wai-" I say but am met with the engaged tone.

My mood escalates immediately. Daniel was my best friend, the person who was there with me through thick and thin. He was there since even before Sarah and knows every aspect of my life in and out. The person I trust the most. Though our friendship was a gradual development, back in middle school, we hated each other's guts at first, but one time I was forced to help him out with homework and the next day he shared his food with me. Boom! 'Food is the key to achieve everything'.

We did have our usual fights, but we knew no one will tolerate us like we do each other. He had moved to the neighbouring state for job prospect and has been away for about two years now. 

I look at the time and gasp, it was past noon! Sulking, I tie my hair in a bun and walk up to the desk to search for the loathed number.

Oh the things I have to do for my job.

.......................................................................................................

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