"Oh, Aaron… you messed with the wrong girl." Kayla's voice trembled with rage as she picked up her bag. "I'll deal with you. Mark my words, Aaron—I'll deal with you."
She didn't wait for a reply. The fury boiling inside her was enough to fuel her out the door, the echo of his cruel words still stabbing through her chest. Every step she took felt like fire, but beneath the pain was something sharper—resolve.
---
Back home, the night felt too quiet. She threw her bag on the couch, exhaled shakily, and looked down at the one creature that had never judged her.
"Jamal," she sighed, running her fingers through her cat's soft ginger fur. "I had a terrible day. Don't even get me started. Everyone I thought was my friend pretended they didn't even know me."
Meow. I told you so, came Jamal's low, throaty response, tail flicking as if scolding her.
"And an evil boyfriend too," she muttered bitterly. "God, I don't even know what to say anymore." Then, forcing a faint smile, she added, "But there's one good thing. Tomorrow, I get to see my parents at the station. That's something, right?"
Meow. How many more signs do you need to realize they don't like you? Jamal's eyes narrowed as he stared up at her. I thought you'd come back to your senses by now, human.
Kayla gave a humorless chuckle. "Maybe they're just scared of the scandal."
Jamal's only reply was a long blink, one that said you're hopeless.
She ruffled his fur and whispered, "Good night, Jammy. Sweet dreams."
---
The next morning, sunlight sliced through the window blinds, flooding the room with gold. Kayla stirred first, then Jamal, stretching lazily beside her. Today was the day.
"Up you go, Jamal," she said with false cheerfulness. "We can't afford to be late. I can't miss this chance to see Mom and Dad."
She hummed softly as she padded into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, she stepped out wrapped in a cloud of vanilla perfume and clean confidence. Her outfit was simple but striking: a white tank top tucked into sleek black leggings that hugged her figure perfectly. Her long ginger curls, freshly blow-dried, framed her face and bounced with every movement.
"Ready to hit the road, Jamal?" she asked, clipping his little seat belt in beside hers once they were in the car.
The radio came alive, blasting her favorite breakup anthem. She couldn't help but sing along, her voice echoing through the car as if the lyrics were made just for her:
🎵 Even tried to bite my tongue when you start sht.*
Now you're texting all my friends, asking questions—
They never even liked you in the first place. 🎵
🎵 Dated a girl that I hate for attention—
She only made it two days, what a connection.
It's like you do anything for my affection,
You're going about it in the worst way. 🎵
🎵 I was into you, but I'm over it now—
And I was tryna be nice, but nothing's getting through,
So let me spell it out… 🎵
🎵 A-B-C-D-E, F**k you! And your mom, and your sister, and your job—
And your broke-ass car, and that sht you call art!* 🎵
🎵 F**k you and your friends that I'll never see again,
Everybody but your dog—you can all f**k off! 🎵
She belted out the last note with a laugh, her anger melting into defiant joy. Even Jamal blinked in approval—or mild concern.
---
An hour later, Kayla parked in front of the city's police station. The building loomed grey and cold against the bright morning. She picked Jamal up, clutching him close as if the tiny creature could somehow shield her from the weight of what was about to come.
Inside, she spotted a familiar face. "Mr. Rogers!" she called, relief flooding her tone.
He was speaking to a policewoman whose hard stare made Kayla shrink a little.
"Miss Kornels," Mr. Rogers said, stepping forward. "This way, please."
He opened a door leading into a large visiting hall. Inside, rows of inmates sat behind glass dividers, talking to their families through old phones. The air smelled of bleach and hopelessness.
Kayla swallowed hard as her gaze swept the room—until she saw them.
"Mom! Dad!"
Her voice broke as she rushed forward. The moment she reached them, her parents stood, and she fell into their arms, clinging to them like a child afraid of the dark.
"I missed you so much," her mother whispered, her emerald eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Even in the harsh orange prison uniform, Scarlett Kornel's beauty was undeniable. Her once-glossy hair was a little tangled, but her smile still had the warmth of home.
"I missed you too, Mom," Kayla murmured, fighting her own tears.
Her father, Everett Kornel, placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled out a chair. "Come, sit down, my angel."
"Mom, Dad," she said quickly, pulling a small black bag from her side. "I brought food. Some egg stew and boiled grains. You must be hungry."
Scarlett's eyes widened. "Oh, my baby is so thoughtful." She leaned forward to kiss Kayla's cheek, the gesture light and lingering. "We've missed your cooking—even if it's from a street vendor."
Kayla giggled. "I saw an old woman selling food outside the station. Couldn't resist."
Her father smiled softly, though his eyes carried exhaustion. "You've grown so strong. Don't worry—we'll get through this. When we come out, we'll make your life peaceful again. That's a promise."
Kayla's heart ached at his faith. "It's okay, Dad. I'll do everything I can to help you. I promise."
Everett's smile faded slightly as he reached for her hand. "Kayla," he said quietly, "there's someone you need to find."
"Who?"
"His name is Kaiden Scott."
The name was unfamiliar, heavy on her tongue. "Kaiden Scott?"
Both parents nodded solemnly.
"But Dad, I don't know where to find him. I don't even know who he is."
"You'll find him in China," her father replied.
Kayla froze. "China?" she repeated, her pulse quickening. How on earth was she supposed to afford a flight to China? Her bank accounts were frozen, her so-called friends had abandoned her, and she couldn't even trust her boyfriend.
"I—I can't afford that," she admitted quietly. "There must be another way."
Her father nodded. "If not China, then Los Alamos." A faint smile tugged at his lips. "He'll find you if you're meant to meet."
"Los Alamos," she repeated under her breath, relief fluttering in her chest. That was doable.
Her father reached into his pocket and produced a large brown file, its edges worn from age. "When you find him, give him this," he said. "It belongs to him."
Kayla stared at the file. It looked important—confidential even—but she didn't question it. She simply nodded. "I'll make sure he gets it."
Scarlett reached out and cupped her daughter's face. "Be careful, angel. Trust no one. The world outside isn't what it seems."
Before Kayla could answer, a sharp voice interrupted. "Time's up," barked the same policewoman she'd seen earlier. Her nametag read Mira Loma.
Kayla's heart raced. "Just a few more minutes, please!"
"Rules are rules," the officer said coldly, already tugging her parents toward the exit.
"Mom! Dad!" Kayla shouted as they were led away. "I'll get you out of here! I swear it!"
Her father turned once, his voice echoing faintly through the corridor. "Find Kaiden Scott!"
Then they were gone.
Kayla stood there trembling, tears stinging her eyes. Jamal meowed softly in her arms, as if urging her not to fall apart.
As Officer Mira pushed past her, Kayla's gaze hardened. "One day," she whispered under her breath, "I'll make sure you end up behind those same bars. You'll know how it feels, Mira Loma."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the station, her cat pressed to her chest and her father's mysterious file clutched tight in her hand. The sun had climbed high, glaring down at her like a challenge.
The world had taken everything from her, her friends, her love, her comfort. But as she walked toward her car, determination burned in her like wildfire.
Aaron might have broken her heart. Society might have judged her family. But now, Kayla Kornel had only one purpose:
Find Kaiden Scott.
And when she did, the truth that followed would shake the world.