2 ~ Eyes Full Of Fury

Brinda

The next afternoon, I buried my face in the hospital bed beside my mother, her frail body still and unmoving. 

The clock was ticking — seventy-two hours slipping away with every second.

“Mom,” I whispered, shaking her gently. No response. Desperation hit me like a freight train. I had to find a way to save her. I couldn’t lose her.

Peter’s touch on my shoulder was soft but couldn’t heal the ache in my chest. His presence was a comfort, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. Not until I knew for sure that my mother would wake up.

“It’s okay, my love,” Peter murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the sharp edges of my panic. His head rested on mine, and I placed my hand on his hair, allowing my tears to fall freely.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, but it wasn’t enough. 

How could I stop when my mother’s life was on the line?

Peter’s voice cut through my sobs, but his words were strangely calm. “I’ve got twenty thousand dollars so far. We’re almost there…”

I jerked away from him, my heart pounding. “Twenty thousand dollars?” I echoed, my voice rising in shock. “Where the hell did you get that kind of money?”

Peter shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room. He scratched the back of his neck and forced a nervous smile. “I did what I had to do for you, Brinda. Trust me.”

“This isn’t about trust, Peter,” I said through clenched teeth, my hands balling into fists. “Where did you get it?”

He hesitated, then mumbled, “I borrowed it from Cecilia. But... trust me, I didn’t tell her why.”

That name. Cecilia. Our old friend. The one who betrayed us for a rich boyfriend. I could feel my blood boil.

“You had better not tell her anything,” I warned. I took a deep breath, wiping the tears from my cheeks as my thoughts shifted. I needed the rest of the money to save my mother. And I knew exactly where to go.

“Mr. Donald,” I called, making sure to keep my voice steady. “I have to go meet someone to get the rest of the money for Mom’s treatment.”

He gave me a sad smile, his eyes softening. “I wish every mother had a daughter like you. But… where are you getting the rest of the money from?”

I swallowed hard, my heart beating faster. If anyone knew me, it was Peter. He could see through me, and it wasn’t hard for him to guess what I had planned. 

“No… I mean… I…”

“You went back there to perform, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice heavy with concern.

My silence was enough.

“I had no choice,” I said, the words like stones in my mouth. “Once Mom’s better, I will stop. I swear.” I folded my arms, bracing myself for his response.

Peter looked like he was about to argue, but after a long moment, he sighed, defeated. “Go, then. Just... be careful.”

I didn’t have time to waste. As soon as I stepped out of the hospital, the sun beat down on me, its heat suffocating. 

I noticed four black cars parked across the street, tinted windows hiding whoever sat inside. But I didn’t have time to worry about them.

I hailed a taxi and headed to the bar, my mind racing. The place was nearly empty when I arrived, the few patrons scattered like shadows in the dim afternoon light. I quickly made my way to Mr. Donald’s office, where he was counting stacks of cash.

“Good day, sir,” I said, trying to mask the urgency in my voice as I slumped into the chair opposite him.

He barely acknowledged me, continuing with his task as if I wasn’t there. 

Frustration bubbled inside me, and I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for him to speak. When half an hour passed and he still hadn’t noticed me, I stood up and slammed my hand on the desk.

“Mr. Donald, where’s my money? You can’t pretend I’m invisible! Please, I need my share. My mom’s in the hospital — she might die if I don’t get the rest.”

“Come here,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. I walked toward him reluctantly, my heart hammering.

“I’ll give you your money,” he said, holding up the bundles of cash. “But…” He smirked, and before I could react, his hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

A cold wave of panic washed over me. No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

I pushed him away, but he was too quick. He forced me against the table, pinning me in place as his hands moved to pull up my skirt. I screamed, but the sound was muffled in the noise of the bar. 

I fought back — kicking, punching — but he was relentless, a predator who was determined to get what he wanted.

“Stop!” I cried, tears stinging my eyes. “Please, don’t…”

But he didn’t listen. His lips met mine, his tongue sliding in, and I bit down hard. He yelled in pain, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

In a burst of rage, I shoved him off and grabbed the first thing I could — an old knife from the table. My hands shook as I gripped it, but I knew I had to defend myself. My chest heaved with terror, my mind whirling as I raised the knife.

The next thing I knew, I was standing over his lifeless body, the blood still fresh on the floor. My heart pounded as I looked at him, unable to process what I had just done.

Tears streamed down my face, but there was no time to mourn. I grabbed the bundles of cash from the table, stuffing them into a coat and pulling it on. I didn’t know what I was doing — only that I had to get out.

I slipped out of the office, my heart racing. But when I stepped outside, the black cars I saw earlier were parked there. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to act normal, but as three men in black suits emerged, I knew I had to run.

I pulled my hoodie over my head and sprinted down the street, the sound of footsteps behind me growing louder. I had the money, but I couldn’t outrun the past.

I turned a corner, but the men were gaining on me. I was terrified — Then I hit a pole while looking back. A nail had pierced through my hoodie. With a broken heart, I abandoned the hoodie, watching it disappear as I fled.

Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled back to the hospital, where I found Peter talking to the doctors. His face was pale with worry, and I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.

Then I saw it. 

My mother’s body was wheeled out of the hospital.

“No!” I cried, running to her side. I threw my arms around her, my heart breaking. “What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?”

Dr. Philemon’s eyes locked onto mine, fury burning in them. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he pulled out his phone, showing me a video — a video of me dancing at the bar last night.

Shame flooded me as I covered my mouth. I wanted to disappear.

“You won’t be able to work here anymore,” Dr. Philemon said, his voice cold and satisfied. “You’re finished.”

My world shattered at that moment. Everything I had done — every sacrifice — was for nothing. And now, the only thing left was the fury that burned in my chest.