The Bad Daughter

Maya was storming through Laura's workspace, flipping through files, opening drawers, and examining every corner with a sharp, determined focus. The employees watched in stunned silence as she moved on to Vivian's office, meticulously inspecting every inch. Her face was stern, a blend of urgency and fury, as if she was chasing something elusive yet critical. Finally, as though struck by a sudden realization, she briskly walked over to Mark's desk.

She rifled through his belongings with such ferocity that papers scattered across the floor. Without hesitation, she confiscated several items, her tone clipped and final as she instructed, "Bag these. Take everything to the station. These will be on my desk when Sarah returns."

A junior officer hesitated before approaching Maya. "Ms. Maya… why are we doing this?"

Maya turned sharply, her glare piercing through the officer. "What do you mean by that?"

The officer stammered, "I mean…we weren't given orders for this, and—well, this is causing quite a stir. It's spreading through the company like wildfire."

Maya's eyes narrowed as her voice grew icier. "A police officer doesn't wait for orders when they know what needs to be done. This is what Sarah would want if she were here. But instead, they've taken the culprit to the hospital, which is useless."

The officer blinked in confusion. "What's useless?"

Maya exhaled sharply, her voice dripping with impatience. "Taking her to the hospital. She's dead. And you—why are you so talkative today?" Rolling her eyes, she barked another order. "Move it. Get all this to the station!"

Meanwhile, Max had returned to the rooftop in a frenzy. He'd sent Laura to the ambulance but couldn't shake the image of Vivian, frozen in the same posture, her shoulders rigid and eyes void of life. He rushed to her side.

"Vivian!" His voice was thick with worry as he knelt beside her. She was clutching her hand tightly, hiding something within her grasp. He tried gently prying her fingers open. "Vivian, let me see."

But she wouldn't relent. Her grip was iron, her knuckles white. Max softened his tone, sensing her distress. "Vivian, I already know what she wrote. But please, let me help you."

Her glassy eyes met his, but she didn't respond. He realized then that she wasn't intentionally refusing—she was lost, trapped within her own torment.

Max cupped her face tenderly, his thumbs brushing her tear-streaked cheeks. "Listen to me, Vivian. Laura will be alright. They'll do their best to save her. You don't have to carry this weight alone."

At his words, a choked sob escaped her lips. She whispered hoarsely, "She… she said I killed her brother."

Max froze. His breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Who is her brother?" Vivian's voice cracked, desperation clawing at her throat.

Max struggled for words, his gaze darting away. "The one… back in high school." His voice was barely audible, laden with guilt and hesitation.

Vivian's expression shifted from despair to horror. Her trembling hands clutched his shoulders, shaking him violently. "That's what I'm asking! Which one?"

Her voice broke as she screamed, "I didn't kill just one, Max. I killed three people!" Her sobs wracked her entire body as she crumpled before him. "Which one was her brother?"

Max stumbled back, his legs buckling under the weight of her revelation. His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat echoing in his ears. Three?

He steadied himself, swallowing the lump in his throat. Forcing himself to meet her shattered gaze, he knelt before her again. "Vivian, look at me. None of this is your fault."

She pushed him away, her voice a sharp cry. "How is it not my fault? Laura was right—I'm a monster! I've devoured lives—I even killed the man who brought me into this world!" Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands, her sobs echoing into the night.

Max stood, pacing, his mind racing. Every fiber of his being screamed to protect her, to shield her from the storm raging within. But her words haunted him, cutting deep into his resolve. Finally, he stopped and crouched before her again.

"Vivian. Look at me." He gripped her shoulders firmly.

She tried to pull away. "Leave me!"

"Vivian, look at me!" His voice was commanding, his eyes searching hers. "This isn't you. You're stronger than this. You've been through worse and survived. Tell me what happened that night."

Her lips quivered, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. In broken words, she began, "I went to the party… Emily took me. They wanted to…" She couldn't finish the sentence, her voice cracking with anguish. "He pushed me. I grabbed a knife…"

Max clenched his fists, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He'd pieced together what had likely happened, but hearing it from her—seeing her pain—was unbearable.

"Vivian… did you know the boy?"

She shook her head weakly. "No."

He exhaled sharply. "Then what happened?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I ran away. I saw her."

Max's brows furrowed. "Who?"

"A woman. I used to see her from the window. He was beating her—she was almost dead. I hit him with a brick… he died." Her sobs overtook her again, and she buried her face in her arms.

Max's heart broke for her. He gently pulled her into an embrace, stroking her hair. "Vivian, none of this is your fault. You were trying to survive. You were trying to save someone. And Laura's brother… if he was the boy at that party, then he was a monster. She wouldn't forgive him either if she knew."

His words seemed to calm her, and she slowly nodded.

They turned their attention to Laura's final words. "RT," Max murmured, frowning.

"Right?" Vivian's voice was tentative, her exhaustion evident.

Max's eyes lit up. He recalled how Laura had tried to direct Vivian's hand before. "Right. She pushed your hand to the right."

He bolted toward the right side of the rooftop, scanning every inch. His eyes landed on a small pot of daisies. He noticed the soil seemed disturbed. With effort, he upturned the pot, revealing folded papers and a sealed letter.

He rushed back to Vivian, tucking the papers into his coat. "This is what was missing from the station."

Vivian's hands trembled as she opened the letter. Tears streamed down her face as she read its contents. Every word cut deeper, unraveling her defenses. Max pulled her into a tight embrace as she collapsed against him, unconscious.

Max held her close, his own tears finally breaking free. In that moment, he realized the depth of her pain, and all the answers to why she was always pushing him... she had experience with bad men, at this point though it was not his fault he felt disgusted of his own gender , his slight sob was audible to him as he hid his face on her shoulder.

Max held her close, his own tears finally overflowing. He finally fully grasped the magnitude of her suffering. It all made sense now - her guarded heart, her reluctance to trust. She had been hurt by men before, and the weight of that realization settled heavy on Max's chest. - He felt a wave of disgust wash over him, ashamed to share the same gender as those who had hurt her. A faint sob escaped his lips as he buried his face in her shoulder, struggling to come to terms with his own emotions.