My mind is clouded with thoughts as I drive. Why did that man come to my office? He knows we've been searching for him. He came all the way to my office to tell me not to trust anyone? Who exactly is he? Most importantly, is he a friend or a foe or a clue to help solve my father's case? He did mention being friends with my father, but I don't remember seeing him in any of Dad's pictures.

Dad never mentioned any ex-soldier, nor did Uncle. If he is a friend, why is he just making an appearance now? What is his mission? I hate not knowing. It makes me want to itch. This is not the mood I want to have when I meet Mother. I try to think of things that should put me in a better mood. Roland's veiny arms come to mind, the way they flex when he's handling me. His eyes, I can stare at them forever, especially when they burn with heat for me. Yeah, I love that. His suppressed moans and groans… A horn pulls me back to reality, and I realize that I'm not moving at a green light.

L

As I enter the compound, I think of how to approach Mother, what to say to her, how to respond to her. I really hope she is in her right state of mind to reason along with me. If not, there's nothing else I can do but hope this eventually goes away.

Maids run to take my bag, but I refuse. "Take me to my mother," I order. They both nod and lead me to the west wing. Walking down these cream-painted halls makes me remember memories that are starting to fade. Mother and I had lots of fun here with Papa, of course. Now that I think about it, there were rarely moments where I was left alone with Mum. Father was either with us, or maids were always at the corner ready to come in at any sight of inconvenience or trouble. Mum was never stable; it just got worse when Father died.

The door of her room opens. I take my time to gather myself, my thoughts, my emotions, and after taking a long breath and letting it out, I step inside her jasmine-scented room. She sits by the window side on a rocking chair with a cup in her hands. I look closely at the cup… It's plastic. There aren't many items in her room any longer. Everything that can be used for any harm has been removed. Even the vanity mirror. Her windows are made with wood panels and net covers. There is nothing she can use to harm herself. She is wearing no jewelry, and on her socks-covered feet are rubber slip-ons.

She did not turn to face me, but I know she knows that I am in her room. I drop my bag on her bed and walk over to her side. I bow in greeting before rising up to my full length.

"The garden looks so dull and ugly," she complains with disdain in her voice. My eyes momentarily look down at the garden outside. They look magnificent to me, but I know better.

"I will get them to replace all of the flowers and arrange them to your liking." The words leave my mouth like a robot. I am starting to feel like one.

"You would do that, won't you? After all, you are my darling daughter. My only child," she mutters. Now that her face is not baked in layers of makeup, her once glowing radiant skin is full and saggy. Depression is written all over her face, and it stinks from the pores of her skin.

"So you're going to marry that Russian man?"

"Yes, that's the plan."

"Plan? Do you really think you're ready for marriage? For childbearing? You would break before you even attempt it."

"I doubt that," I say sharply. Her shoulders lift at her loud scoff, but she says nothing. Her once vibrant green eyes have lost their brightness. They look dull and dead. It remains silent for a while. No one says a thing, we both continue to stare at the garden like it is something of greater importance.

"Davina," my heart tightens at the softness in her voice. The almost forgotten warmth of her voice calls my name with love for the first time in a long time. It takes all the power in me not to break down in tears. Her eyes glisten as she speaks. "Whatever you do, protect your family. I did a terrible job as a mother, but promise me you won't do the same."

I gulp back my tears, my eyes blink rapidly to rid of the water that lay on my lids. "I.. I promise," I manage to say it, sounding like a fool. She nods her head slowly, and her eyes close, allowing the tears to spill down her cheeks.

"The wedding will be held on the 11th. Just wanted to let you know. You'd be allowed a place where you will be able to see all what is happening but will not be in the same space with the crowd. Is that okay with you?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Her eyes come open again, and she finally turns to take a good look at me. "You've grown so well and wonderfully," she adds. I decide to use this time to ask.

"Do you know any ex-soldier who was once close to Papa? He was able to get past security and was in my office waiting for me. He didn't harm me, but he told me he was Papa's friend and that I should not trust anybody."

I watch her eyes freeze over for a second before they return to normal. "Then you should do as the man says."

"Mother—"

"I do not remember knowing any ex-soldier as your Papa's friend. Why don't you ask your Papa? He should be in his office." Her words catch me off guard. She looks serious, not a hint of sarcasm in her tone of expression.

"Mother, Papa is not—" She looks up at me again, and her eyes light up like they do when they see… Papa. My heart breaks into a million pieces, my hands fist by my sides. I should leave her alone.

"What is wrong with your Papa?"

"Papa is fine. I will go and talk to him right now." I say with a smile, but it does not reach my eyes.

"Let me know what he says, okay?" She tilts her head to the side like a child. I can't find my voice, so I nod instead.

"It's time for my afternoon nap." Immediately the words leave her mouth, the maids that I have believed to be one with the room walls appear by her side and take her to the bed for her afternoon nap, but it's just eight o'clock in the morning. With a heavy heart, I walk out of her room. They say it gets better, but it never does