n the air and the organized chaos that had descended upon their home. Moving day was tomorrow, and today was dedicated to the arduous, ye

oved with a focused energy. Dressed in comfortable but stylish loungewear, she directed the household staff with quie

tructed a maid, gesturing towards a stack of seldom-use

timentality. He hummed a soft tune as he carefully wrapped a collection of antique art books, his movements deliberate. "

he 'keep forever' box." She watched him place it gently into a padded container, a warmth spreading th

gtails, she flitted between her parents, her chubby fingers pointing decisively. "Keep this one, Daddy! It's my favourite unicorn!" she'd dec

rked as a unit, a family unit, sifting through the tangible memories of their life here, happily tossing away unuseful items and carefully preserving the useful, the cheris

lighter, imbued with a sense of impending change. Catherine stretched, feeling the satisfying ache in her muscl

a reply, she plucked the keys to his Ford Mustang GT from the hook by the door. The powerful sports car, a gift from her to him years ago

r power of the car was exhilarating, a brief escape from the weight of her responsibilities. She made a quick stop at a high-end

pharmacist. The sign was faded, the windows slightly grimy, a deliberate lack of flash that spoke volumes. She pushed open the heavy g

ind the counter. Catherine offered a brief, polite nod. "Is Gerry arou

the young man replied, his tone re

sharply on the linoleum floor. As she reached the door marked 'Private,' she pushed it open without knocking, step

r, looked up from a stack of papers, his eyes wide with surprise. "Catherine! I've been tryi

e. "Have you gotten it?" she demanded, her voic

really illegal to use, and you know it. My license is at stake here, my entire career. I got as much as possible, I could do. This wou

elling up, tears blurring her vision. "Please, Gerry," she pleaded, her voice cracking, the carefully constructed facade of the po

ress. "There's nothing more I can do, Catherine. I've pushed every boundary. I got you almost

buffer. She took a shaky breath, trying to regain her composure. Her mind raced, calculating, strateg

ce regaining a semblance of its usual co

brown box tucked discreetly under his desk. "I

en tore off the check. Ten thousand dollars. It was a substantial sum, far more than the drugs were worth, a c

e tears had receded. She turned, her movements sharp and decisive once more, and opened the office

life again, a powerful beast beneath her command. But her mind was a tempest. The conversation with Gerry, the sheer

onsumed by the implications of Gerry's refusal, the dwindling supply, the precariousness of her situation.

looked up, her eyes widening in horror. Another car, a dark SUV, was

ckening symphony of metal and rubber. The world spun. Then, a violent jolt. The airbag explo

shot through her skull, a blinding white light behind her eyes. In that instant, as the w

e clutching a gleaming, gold-plated trophy, its sharp edges cold against her clammy palms. Her mother's brother, Uncle Robert, stood over her, his face contorted in

ickening thud. A gasp. And then, the gush. Warm, sticky, crimson. It splattered across her face, hot and metallic, blinding her for a moment. Uncle Rob

cream. The metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils, her mouth. She stood frozen, a teenager cover

hilling residue. She was back in the Mustang, the acrid smell of burnt rubber and deployed airb

smudged window, peered in. "Are you alright, lady?

fabric. Her hand went to her forehead, just below her left brow. It hurt. Her fingers came away sticky. A thin line of blood, dark aga

ith a sudden, fierce determination, shifted the car into drive. The Mustang lurched forward. She focused on the road, forcing the brutal image of