⚠️ CAUTION ⚠️
[Before you proceed with the story, please be aware that it contains content that may be disturbing or uncomfortable for some viewers. This includes a significant age gap, violent behaviour, and inappropriate language. Viewer discretion is advised.] Do not complain in the comments. You were warned. (There's also bad grammar involved.) Thank you for your time please enjoy and show lots of love to this story.
The story takes place 3 years ago and unfolds at a Christmas celebration party in NYC. Scarlett hosted a Christmas celebration and invited her wealthy friends along with their families, making the place quite packed. During the event, Scarlett warned Ziva not to move around too much to avoid any embarrassment. Ziva, however, found solace in drawing, a hobby her stepmother did not support as she believed it wouldn't lead to wealth. Despite her stepmother's disapproval, Ziva continued drawing just for the joy it brought her.
While sitting in a dark corner, a tall shadow approached her. She didn't look up because she didn't want to interact with her stepmother's guests. Her focus was on her drawing. The anonymous person then broke the silence by asking the question, "Are you an artist?" The person's voice was rather deep and husky. The only thought that was in Ziva's head at the moment was, "Why is this person talking to me? Now Mom will surely kill me." Ziva finally answered with her voice a bit shaky as if she was scared, "No, not really." after replying, she had hoped the person would leave, but surprisingly, he didn't. Instead, he sat down beside her and asked her what she was drawing. Ziva was lost for words because it was her first time interacting with her mother's guest, so she wasn't sure how to act. She decided that she'd be herself because, in this situation, it didn't matter what she did; her step-mom would still lock her in the darkroom aways.
She finally answered, "Oh, this? It's a room." The person nodded slowly. Even though Ziva was talking to the person she still hadn't had a glimpse of how the person looked. It was mainly because her step-mom had told her looking back at an adult is disrespectful and she didn't want to disrespect her step-mother's guest because that would lead to a month in the darkroom. The person's husky, deep and raspy voice then spoke, "My name is Tahir... what about yours?" Ziva was a bit startled at the sudden introduction and question. She couldn't help but find that name familiar. Tahir? Where had she heard that name before? She didn't keep Tahir waiting and answered his question, but of course, she couldn't give him her real name, or her mom would be pissed. She made up a fake name instead, "My name is Zi...- My name is Tina!" He once again nodded.
"So... Tina, why are you sitting in a dark corner all by yourself?" Ziva didn't want to interact with Tahir anymore because she felt as if she was wasting his time. "Mr. Tahir, I'm not supposed to be interacting with any of my mom's guests. So if you would please stop talking to me, you'd do both of us a huge favour." Tahir chuckled lightly as he crossed both his legs and arms and leaned back in his chair. "I'm not a guest. I'm here with my mother-" while Tahir was talking the only words Ziva could hear was, "blah, blah, blah." Why is he so talkative? If only he could give me some space. Tahir began to talk about "his life" and Ziva was extremely bored. Why did she have to hear about his life? She could've cared less.
She was caught off guard by his sudden question. "I didn't get to ask but, what was your drawing about?" Ziva was relieved he stopped his foolish harping. "Oh... uh... It's just a darkroom that my mom would usually lock me up in. I don't know why I drew this, but it's probably because I grew fond of it." Tahir was stunned. He didn't expect the drawing to have such a dark meaning to it. "Hm. Why did you grow 'fond' of such a thing?" Ziva thought for a moment. Why did she grow fond of that? "No pressure. You can always answer it later." Ziva nodded. "Would you be interested in viewing something remarkable?" Ziva once again nodded. Tahir told her to follow him.
Tahir brought Ziva to a trailer. Ziva rolled her eyes. A trailer? Is he tryna rub the fact that he's famous in my face? She scoffs. Tahir looked at her, seeing the unfazed look on her face, and rolled his eyes as well. He led the way into his trailer and Ziva's eyes lit up. This guy had a whole fucking mini aquarium in his trailer. It's as if Ziva was actually at an aquarium. Is this what rich people spend their money on? What a waste... "And how does this satisfy you?" Tahir thought for a minute before answering, "Ever since I was young I've always loved the way how the aquarium feels. The atmosphere-" "Uh huh. And if someone or something were to break that you'd drown or get eaten alive. All your money would go down the drain." Tahir stood there in shock and terror. "You're one negative little girl, aren't you?" he chuckled. "Mr. Tahir, old are you?" "twenty-seven." Ziva was shocked; she thought the person was close to her age, but instead, he was 12 years older than her. "At your old age? I'd recommend you take it out but you don't have to listen to my suggestion if you don't want to." Tahir nodded. "So, about my question earlier. Can I get an answer now?" (referring to the previous paragraph)
"Oh, I guess I've become attached to it because I'm so used to it. Initially, it was terrifying, but as I've gotten older, it's not as dreadful. I've been entering that dim room since I was a little kid. Whenever I did something to upset my mother, I'd be locked in the dark room without any food. The longest I stayed in there was a year because she had forgotten about me. Fortunately, there were some canned foods and a can opener. She didn't even apologize... it was as if she would have left me in there for another year if she could. She sometimes...-" Tahir was confused as to why she stopped. Ziva finally dared to look at Tahir's face. He was incredibly handsome, a real head-turner. The water's reflection enhanced Tahir's already striking features, leaving a lasting impression. She quickly regained her composure."Mr. Tahir... I gotta go now. I've said too much. Bye." She quickly left the trailer and dashed to hide behind one of the empty tables.
She crouched down, ensuring she remained unnoticed. Puzzling over why she had poured her heart out to a total stranger, she couldn't help but wonder why. Why did she do it? Perhaps it was because she hadn't had a real conversation with anyone other than her mother in a long time. Yes, that must be the reason. It had to be. As she hid behind the table, the sound of a bustling crowd filled the air. Slipping under the table for a better vantage point, she cautiously peeked out while staying concealed. Suddenly, her mother ascended the platform with a microphone in hand. "Thank you all for joining us this year~ the turnout is as impressive as ever. It's a shame I couldn't introduce my stepdaughter to you all; she always seems to be napping at this time." Ziva rolled her eyes and scoffs. Why was her stepmother so hypocritical? Napping my ass. Why don't you tell these people how you tried to kill me because I accidentally talked to one of your guests?
"This year, we have a very special guest in our midst. I'm sure you're all familiar with him." Scarlett chuckles confidently, flaunting her wealth, which really irks Ziva. "He's going to give a brief speech before we resume our festivities," Scarlett announced, piquing Ziva's interest despite her annoyance. "He's a renowned actor in Thailand and the United States-" Thailand? Is he Asian, like Tahir? Now Ziva was eager to learn more about this person, but Scarlett's boasting seemed never-ending. "Please welcome, Tahir Alison!" WHAT? TAHIR?! No wonder his name sounds familiar-I've seen him on TV before. Hold on... So Tahir deceived me. He's her guest, which implies he's just another self-centred, arrogant, and disrespectful millionaire. Despite wanting to, Ziva felt upset but strangely not angry at him. She emerged from under the table and ascended to her room. Once there, she secured the door. Why did I believe this man was unlike my stepmother? In reality, he's likely influenced by her just like everyone else. I need to gather my thoughts. Ziva stretched out on her bed and drifted off to sleep.
To be continued...
