MARIEL

9~ Hot. Stabbing. Invasive ~

Friday, February 7th, 2020

Esther Caravan hadn't heard from Tira since the prior week. She's sent a message to check in on her recovery, hoping that the returned message would imply a sooner return than expected. Tira's last message had said: 'I feel fine. If I disappear for some time, please understand that I am alright. Do not send me one thousand text messages.'

Had that message been sent prior to her knowledge of Tira's abrupt personality, she might have been offended, but the fact that Tira warned of her disappearance at all was, in reality, a big deal. Yes, it was obvious that Tira was attempting to mask the fact that she cared about Esther. Her method used: suggesting she was only warning her so Esther would not blow up her phone. Despite her blunders and poor decisions, Esther was smarter than that. If Tira didn't care, she would simply shut off her phone.

That knowledge only made Esther miss her more.

On top of that, her curiosity was unbearable. Why was she back in Moscow for such an unknown period of time, and why did her father have such a hold over her? Esther tried to imagine a male figure in Tira's life directing her and determining her fate.

She couldn't.

There was a piece, a very large piece, missing from the picture of Tira's life, and Esther wanted to find out what it was. It wasn't just to satisfy her curiosity. If someone like Tira, Officer Mysterious, acted as though she was bound to a particular place by the demands of a particular person, than that person must be -

-bad-

-controlling. Abusive, perhaps? Probably. She'd mentioned being beaten as a child. Esther knew nothing of Russian culture, but she suspected being beaten as a child was likely as unhealthy in Russia as it was in the States.

She wanted answers.

Esther pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. Bored, she scrolled Facebook, processing none of the information on her screen. She had just closed the bookstore, despite her father insisting that he work the shift for her. While she appreciated her father's desire to protect her mental well-being, she wasn't certain he understood that it was necessary to keep busy. Doing tasks, such as work, school, dance practice, and helping Fr. Jerome, kept Esther from allowing grief and fear to overwhelm her.

It also kept her away from drinking. Her dad didn't need to know about that temptation, though.

Tap, tap, tap.

Startled, Esther looked up from her phone. Outside the driver's side, Todd stood with his forehead against the window. He stuck his tongue out at her. Automatically, she giggled. It was something he'd always done when given the opportunity. Her first memory of it had been at a gas station while he pumped the gas. She'd been four, maybe five.

Esther popped open the door. "Might I assist you, padre?"

"Yup. Give me the keys and get in the passenger seat." He smiled.

"Why? I don't trust you."

"You don't trust your own father?"

"Nope. Someone who reproduces brothers like Hawk can't be trusted, soooo."

"Be nice. You're not wrong, but be nice." Todd shrugged. "I suppose I'll find another kid to take out."

Esther got out of the car. "You're taking me out? Where?"

Todd took the keys and cocked his head towards the passenger side of the car. "Let's go eat junk food and go bowling. We could both use some fun, and I miss my squirt. Get in."