FIFTY ONE

SELENA

The pain… It shot into every part of my body.

My teeth gnashing, I could feel every nerve within my being getting worked up and my fingers that were pressed against my unexpected injury were getting more and more coated with the redness of my rushing blood.

But, I soon forgot about my pain. Taking extreme deep breaths to help me endure the torment, I managed to get on my feet and face my grandfather who still had his back to me.

“Hmm…” I groaned as my breaths became deeper, my mouth loudly rushing out air at intervals. “Grandpa…” I called, my voice a little whiny to my displeasure. I guess my gunshot injury is affecting me more than I want it to. But I had an intention to make the old man look at me, so while gripping my wounded spot, I called again, “Grandpa, it’s me, Selena.”

“Aiish!” a complaining tone replied to me and the man finally turned.

The corners of my eyes twitched greatly as my back arched a little more to help me endure the pain a little longer.

My grandfather’s metallic irises glared at me and my brain already knew what was about to happen. But there was a tug in my heart that willed my legs to stay still for a couple more seconds.

Struggling to keep a stable stance, my exhalations now turned into hard pants as sweat formed over my forehead, and I said, “I am here, grandpa.”

“I see,” was all his grumpy voice said as a condescending look fell on his wrinkly, tanned face. “You are still as weak as ever, Selena.” The ruckus behind me instantly faded and all I could hear was the sound of his footsteps as the tall man walked toward me, his height more intimidating than ever. Grabbing my chin firmly and paying no attention to my injury, his dark lips curled with disgust before he said, “Don’t tell me you are still the one seating on my throne?”

“Grandpa, I-”

“I told you last time, didn’t I?” His grip became tighter and the pain I suffered from that hold started to compete with the pre-existing one. “I don’t want someone like you leading my gang. You are nothing but a weakling with a dumb brain.”

I saw that coming but why do his words still hurt me as they did eight years ago?

With the intense pull I was feeling in my chest, my body was already experiencing too many aches, and I feared that it was going to cave in sooner than I thought.

At that point, I could feel the veins in my body straining against my skin as I tried to pull through my pain. I could not give in yet. There was something important I needed to do.

With a particular roughness in my voice, I replied to the man, “Y-you are wrong.”

“What?” His frown was a delight to see.

I have spent years gathering enough courage so that I can stand in front of the devil in front of me and now that I am in a position to confront him, nothing will stop me.

“I am not a weakling, Grandpa.” My feet started to feel weak and I almost staggered into the chair behind me. “I am… Selena Danniman. I am…” I grunted hard as my pants turned into thick moans. “… the Dangerous Dame.” I loved the eye contact I was having with him. I needed to show him that I was not to be messed with. “Grandpa, I am not the weakling here. You are. And, we both k-know t-that.”

Damn it… it was getting harder to speak and I was not done yet.

Well, I guess I have to push harder even if my body was already slipping into unconsciousness.

“What did you say?” asked my grandfather whose angry expressions were now looking blurry to me.

“I said…” A shuddering breath followed as tears began to roll down my cheeks. “…you are a weakling, fucktard.”

“How dare you, you bastard?” The loudness of his voice was hard for me to listen to but my hearing became more wrecked when I felt the hardness of his palm land on my face.

That slap got me dropping to the ground, making me look weak in front of the man I have lived all my days trying to fight because nothing I did impressed him. All my efforts to make him proud of me were always quickly dismissed with a scornful look.

Even when I heeded his advice and engaged our rivals in a war that cost some innocent people their lives, all my grandfather did, since things didn't go according to his plan, was call me a fool for misleading the gang.

So, how could I not desire to be the strongest version of myself in front of the man even when I am greatly injured?

But, there I was on the floor, covered in my own blood. My plans to remain strong had collapsed so easily.

Seconds seemed to turn into minutes as I failed to get back on my feet. My throat felt scratchy as more tears rolled to the side of my eyes and I watched my grandfather get down on a knee.

He was about to speak when a pair of hands suddenly pushed him aside.

Feebly, I watched as this person moved closer, distress all over their actions. Then I felt a warm embrace in the midst of my agony.

The scent from the embrace told me that Damon Jones was the man holding me tightly as if he didn’t want to lose me. Soon, while Damon didn’t mind the messy state of my body, he began to apply pressure to my injury, occasionally glancing my way as he uttered words I failed to hear.

And the fact that he was right there was strangely enough for me. It soothed my soul.

And, with my tears still staining my face, I soon forgot all about my grandfather and allowed the approaching darkness to envelop me.

~

When I woke up, it was after I suffered at the hands of repetitive nightmares. All I saw as I struggled to get out of my darkness was the terrible event that happened eight years ago.

As if I wasn’t bothered enough by the mere thought of that gruesome day, my mind just had to pull up a projector screen and play that day over and over.

So, when my sight landed on the ceiling above, my heart leaped joyfully as it celebrated its freedom from the hell loop.

“Oh, good,” Lucius's voice was the first thing I heard. After, beeping sounds reached my ears and it became evident that I was still in the hospital. While I wondered how many days it had been, Lucius’s surprisingly worried face came into view as he said, “You are awake.

“I am,” I mumbled in response.

There was no indication that Damon Jones was in the room, so I almost inaudibly informed Lucius that I wished to sit up.

As he helped adjust the inclination of the rather comfortable bed, I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdominal area and that was all it took to remind me of the face-off I almost had with my grandfather.

After a quick, strained glance around the huge, exquisitely constructed room which had its own waiting area, Damon Jones was nowhere to be seen.

Before I could ask Lucius about his whereabouts, the man spoke. “Why did you go there?” I shrugged with a flash of indifference on my face as my mind wondered what Damon Jones could be thinking after what he witnessed the other day. “Why did you go to see him? You know the kind of person your grandfather is.”

“Well…” I still hated how stressed my voice sounded. “I wanted to confront him one last time.”

“You certainly weren’t prepared for that,” Lucius pointed out, the man noticeably chattier than usual. “So, why?”

“Well…” I sighed my sight darting to the end of the bed which my legs could barely reach. “I guess I couldn’t take the guilt anymore. When Damon and I ended up at that building, the first thing that ate at my chest was the bloodshed I witnessed eight years ago. And all I could remember was my grandfather’s words after I told him that I didn’t like the fact that innocent people were killed.”

“Your grandfather was really harsh,” Lucius remarked, his thick arms crossing over his chest as he had his seat next to me. "And, he was the worst."

“I am actually glad I went to see him.” A small nod was followed by a smile on my lips. “Even if things turned sour along the way, I am thankful that I got to speak my mind for some seconds. And, even though I was shot at and slapped while bleeding profusely…” Damn, my grandfather is a monster. “… I feel kind of relieved. I feel less guilty.”

I didn’t expect Lucius to share my sentiments but he did when he said, “There are other ways to feel less guilty, Selena. You didn’t have to see that old man again.”

“I guess I couldn’t take the ache in my heart anymore. You and I know how terrible I am when it comes to handling emotions.”

Lucius’ broad chest rose and fell with impact as he sighed. “Why did Damon Jones take you there?”

“Apparently he volunteers there.”

“And, you believe him? Isn’t that too much of a coincidence?”

My brows cocked at him and I abandoned my thoughts about the meal I was craving at that moment. “What are you trying to say?”

“You cannot trust him.”

“Do you think he is working for our rival, Malik?”

“Who knows? He is just generally suspicious. And I keep getting a feeling that he will betray us.” I have never seen Lucius look so worked up about a person before.

As I nodded understandably in reaction to his fears, the entrance door slid open and Damon Jones finally entered, his sharp-looking face wearing a serious look. When our eyes met, that sober look of his dissolved, and the sides of his lips curled into a smile.

Looking away without returning his smile, I asked Lucius, “Did you get the identity of the shooter?”

“Well…” Lucius glanced behind him with a visible attempt to make Damon feel tense. “It was difficult but we were able to track him down.” He faced me once again. “The President is back.”

Now, that was an interesting statement. “He is?”

“He arrived at the capital two weeks ago. Should we start making preparations to transfer our activities to the capital?”

“No.” I found myself chuckling as I connected certain dots in my mind. “I know for sure that the President will be visiting me soon. Let’s be patient. Damon Jones?” The handsome man that quietly threw himself into a corner looked up, his eyes wearing certain sorrow. “I need you to get ready. Very soon, you will be meeting the people that killed your brother.”