The Hunt

You feel Entitled

The sound of my steps echoed through the narrow hallway, and I looked angry as I walked. I told Amelia over and over, "No, no, no, you are not staying with me." Yet, undeterred, she followed me into the living room, engaging in a heated argument. "Yes, I am, and frankly, you don't have a choice anymore."

Bewildered, I retorted, "What the heck? This is my house!" The tension escalated as I tried to distance myself from the conversation, desperately searching for my belongings to make a swift exit.

Amelia, however, halted me with a declaration. "Well, it doesn't matter." Irritated, I approached her, our eyes locking in a clash of wills. "How come it doesn't matter? This is my life," I exclaimed.

With a defiant glare, Amelia responded, "This was my life. But look what happened, and I had no other choice but to deal with it. So grow up and be a good little bounty hunter." A sarcastic laugh escaped my lips as I accused her, "You are a piece of work. Why would I want you in my house, dealing with your daily attitude? Not once did I hear a 'thank you.'"

Unfazed, Amelia shot back, "Thank you for intruding on my life?" I yelled, "I wanted a thank you for saving your life." Tempers flared as we exchanged harsh words, the air thick with resentment.

While I was still looking for my things, Amelia had a sudden thought. She needed to change her approach. Walking up to me, she touched my shoulder and proposed a deal. "If you let me stay in your house for a year, I'll get out of your hair. I want to ensure Bryce and I are safe. I promise to treat you with respect."

When I heard how sincere her voice was, it caught me off guard. It was the first time she had talked to me without swearing or being sarcastic. Even though I knew how bad things were, I reluctantly agreed to a test run, a temporary ceasefire for safety and peace.

I laid out my rules, stressing how important it was that my personal life be respected. Amelia was thankful for the chance and promised to handle the change with care. We set out on a dangerous trip together, hoping that our uneasy compromise would help us live together more peacefully afterwards.

After leaving Amelia's house and walking out into the cool morning air, I could feel the importance of the conversation pressing on me. When I called Raven, I tried to explain how our lives had changed so quickly. Raven, her impatience evident, questioned my whereabouts, wondering why I wasn't at work.

"Hey, Raven, give me a minute. I need to talk to you about something important," I began, preparing to share the situation's complexities.

Raven's voice, a blend of curiosity and impatience, cut through the line. "Who is that woman, and why are you with her? I thought you were working!"

As I began to unravel the delicate details of Amelia's situation, Raven's skepticism and frustration became palpable. "Her name is Amelia. She's a witness under protection, and Raymond assigned her to me. It's a complicated situation, and I could use your support......"

Raven erupted, firmly rejecting another person's idea in our house, citing concerns about safety and the perceived lack of space. Fully aware of her valid points, I suggested using our seldom-used beach house as Amelia's residence, hoping to find a compromise. However, Raven persisted, adamant about not wanting anyone in our home.

The morning sunlight cast a subdued glow on the street, creating a contemplative backdrop to our conversation. I continued, "Raven, listen, she's staying in our beach house. It's practically a storage unit with a bathroom, and it could work."

Raven's response remained unwavering, "I don't want anyone in our home, Leon."

Attempting to convey the potential benefits, I explained the advantages—increased help around the house, a significant pay raise, and the prospect of me being home more often. Unconvinced, Raven accused me of prioritizing the protection of another woman over her and Taylor, the tension escalating with every exchanged word.