LOOMING

HAKAN'S POV.

"You did what?!"

He hurled his whisky and glass and all at me. I caught it before it could hit me.

"I know, I know. I'm a piece of shit."

I responded nonchalantly.

"I don't know what gave you this shitty view on women to make you so apathetic towards them—"

"OH, YOU DO!"

I cut him off, which I immediately regretted.

"Oh, right. And who is she? Your wife! Now I get you don't love or aren't exactly fond of her but seriously?! That was very— no. It was a very no thing to do!"

Mr Smarty pants couldn't find words to string together. Wow, I had fucked up.

"First off, you need to stop being in so much fucking denial. I'm sure you did this out of your own insecurities. Tell me I'm tripping."

I was silent. He was absolutely right. I did this because of my stupid insecurities. I felt as though she was looking down on me because I was gay.

Wow. Way to go Hakan.

"Look at me, Hak, I know you're going through a lot. And I know it hurts you very much to have to hide all the time and propagate all this toxic masculinity but I also want you to know that I'm always here for you. Your friend will always be here for you. I don't mind if you're gay or pan or omnisexual or trans or whatever new sexuality there is every Sunday. I love you."

He sat beside me on the couch and gave me a side hug, placing his head on my shoulder. God, he was so sappy and honest. It was refreshing. I didn't notice when tears started rolling down my cheeks until I felt a hand lightly brush my cheeks.

"It's alright." He cooed. "But I'm still mad at you. You have to make amends. Don't hurt someone just because you're hurt."

"The...problem is, I don't know how to."

He let go of me and flashed me an annoyed look.

"Let me explain. I'm not shirking responsibility. It's just that, she like a...a machine..."

His frown grew deeper as his brows furrowed and the neutrality in his features faded completely.

"The fuck are you saying?"

"She doesn't show any emotions or any hints of emotion. She's only done that once and even that was her wolf. Even...when I was..." I hesitated. He nudged me to continue.

"When I was doing it while looking at her, the only sign I could use to tell she was in pain was her tears. And even then, her eyes were so lifeless. Even as she quivered and sobbed and bled. She looked the same. Is that how someone is supposed to be? I mean you're the psychiatrist here. Tell me. I just can't figure that woman out. It's...it's...maddening."

He was quiet for a while. Was I in deeper trouble for telling him in detail how much pain she looked like she was in? But I had to be honest right?

"How are her behaviour patterns like?"

He finally quizzed.

"She's uh...per...fect?"

"You're kidding right?"

He asked with an incredulous tone.

"No. I'm serious. She's so perfect it's scary. It's terrifying." I sighed. He jumped off the couch and scurried over to his desk, took his notepad and a pen and started scribbling God knows what with a content childish smile on his face.

"You're probably dealing with someone who's been," there was a pause and his smile dropped.

"She's been a victim of intense and constant if not physical, psychological abuse or both or every other type of abuse there is."

He said.

I looked at him, shook my head and reached for my glass of mojito.

"You're tripping," I said dismissing his crazy words.

"Hak, I'm dead serious. It's not funny. There aren't many people who can withstand that amount of abuse for however long she's endured it but she did, and I'm sure she has an underlying condition."

"Mhmm, like what? Doctor?"

"Like split personality, or even multiple personality disorder or bipolar disorder. She might even have an eating disorder. You never know. "

I just couldn't believe it. Gaia? Underlying condition? Oh, please.

"You did hear what I said about her being perfect right?"

"Loud and clear Hak, but the thing is.  Human beings were not built to be perfect. There's always a dirty stain or smudge somewhere. And for someone that has had to experience so much pain and sacrifice most of her personality for 'perfection', it has in some way taken some kind of toll on her. She's probably hiding it."

I chuckled at his words.

"I mean, if I hadn't seen her bleed of shed tears, I wouldn't know she was huma—"

I looked over at him, he nodded and gave me the 'I told you so' look.

"No way, you should have seen her file. It was 'perfect'. Everything she does is perfect."

"The keyword here being perfect Hak."

I took a sip of my drink. Fuck. She was just as torn as I was. Even worse. But I needed her. I needed her to cover up myself. She wasn't defiant. She was obedient, she wasn't demanding, and she was an absolute genius. I needed that.

"Sigh, you know. Just let me have a look at her. I know your stupid 'pride' won't let you apologise. But at least let me have a look at her so I know what we're dealing with."

"Right. So tomorrow?"

"I'll be there before the cock crows."

"I don't doubt that."

************************************

~AT A MANSION ON THE MOROZOV ISLAND~

"Papa!" The tall slender sight to behold jumped onto the lap of the middle-aged looking sixty-eight-year-old, 7'1, slightly beefy and muscled stern looking man.

"What is it? And for the last time stop jumping onto me like that. It's annoying." The thickness of his Russian accent was drinkable.

"But papa! I like it!" She whined, leaning in to lay her head on his broad chest.

"I agree, it is my fault. I spoil you too much. Now, what is it?"

"I have a date," she beamed slightly hoping atop his lap. The older man looked at his daughter with disbelief. This had to be good. And bad as well. He thought.

"Which unfortunate man are you going to bend over this time?"

"Papa!" She punched his chest. He coughed.

"Isn't that what you do to them? You've turned almost all of them gay! Now, tell me so I tell your mother when to make her signature dish."

He demanded.

"It's a woman." She said in a whisper.

"I must be growing old. The man is a woman?"

"Papa! I'm serious. She's a woman."

The man looked at her, shocked beyond comprehension. He grabbed her by the waist, getting off his chair. She hung like a coat on his arm. He sprinted down the spiral stairs, stopping midway and shouted.

"Akua! Akua! Darling! Kharyah has a date with a woman! A woman I tell you! It's a miracle!"

No sooner emerged an hourglass figure with an afro the size of a fully grown bush; it was dyed platinum blonde. A complete contrast to her charcoal dark skin. She wore jeans shorts and a tank top that did no good at hiding her assets in the north. She looked up at them with her one green eye and one brown one. She looked no younger than nineteen. Every time the older man looked into those eyes he fell in love all over again.

"Yesu! Kharyah, are you alright?!"

The woman asked looking panicked. The mischievous girl hanging from her father's arm smirked. She liked the view from the top, looking down at her 5'3 mother who liked to show off what Luna had given her.

"Mama, are you sure you should be dressed like that? Papa will get blue balls." She teased.

The woman huffed.

"Drop her." She said with a wicked grin of her own." The young lady's smile faded instantly. She looked to her father.

"Papa, I'm sorry. I'll...I'll be good. No more trouble. I won't cause any more trouble at the workshop. I swear papa!" She begged. The older man lifted his daughter, the only thing between her, her fall and the floor was his firm grip.

"It was nice knowing you Kharyah."

He dropped her. She drop like a sack of potatoes— with a hard thud and a scream.

"AHJEI!!!"

Her father looked down at her with an innocent smile. Tsk. The old coot. She got off her arse and limped to the dining room.

"Food is ready milaya!"

The woman announced. Kharyah's arse still ached so much but she took a seat anyway. Her father came striding into the dining room with a childishly wide grin. He grabbed his wife by the waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. Tsk, those two love birds. It annoyed Kyaryah so much. More than her aching behind. Her father continued to pepper her mother's face with kisses. Kharyah was growing red with anger.

"Get a room papa!" She uttered.

"Oh, we should get a room? When you come in here with your men do you get a room? Besides we're in our own house. "

She looked away in embarrassment. He wasn't lying.

All three of them sat at the table, passing food and spices. And after the grace had been shared her mother spoke.

"So, who's the unlucky girl?" Her daughter frowned.

"I don't know. I spoke to her over the phone." The room was silent. They were waiting for her to explain herself.

"She's from Mojéleno Conglomerate. She works there. And I thought it was really impressive because you know how the Alpha is misogynist and all."

She picked at her food in embarrassment.

"Sweetheart, what if she's his wife or his something?"

Her mother asked with concern.

"Well, she wouldn't have agreed if that was the case. Because the condition for meeting them was dinner with her. And she was quite confident about it happening." She bit her lip and shut her eyes tight. Waiting for a scolding from her mother.

"Well, if both parties agree then there's no problem. Right? Akua?"

Her father looked to his wife for approval.

"Ah, yes. So when are you leaving?"

The younger last could not believe it.

"Wait, you're not going to scold me or tell me that was underhanded or something!?!"

She shrieked.

"Quiet down dear, you should have seen the look on your face when you were talking." Her mother teased.

"It was eh...out of character!" Her father continued.

"Maybe It'll be your first love or something. Who knows. And since you'll be leaving to the States, the men you've turned gay will stop disturbing our peace."

"Father!"

"What? Do you know how many marriage proposals you get in a day? I keep fighting the urge to tell them to bring their daughters instead. Especially when they talk about grandchildren. I seriously want to tell them my daughter can only have those with a woman and not a man. She has one that hangs! It hangs between her legs!"

His wife nudged him in the ribs. He paused and looked at his daughter apologetically.

"It's alright father. I'm not ashamed of what I am anymore and have the both of you to love and support me no matter what anyone says. If anything I'm proud."

She said shyly.

Kharyah had never been shy. The 6'3 mischievous, wild-spirited, aloof, jovial, insightful and absolutely hilarious twenty-eight-year-old Afro-Russian was a force to be reckoned with. She was the wit behind the frightening growth and ascension of Morozov Tech & Automobiles. She was also a very mischievous bitch.

On the day she had been born some twenty-eight years back, her father pummeled one of the nurses to death for calling his child an 'abnormality'. Kharyah had been born with what looked like a little penis tucked between libia majora. It was a sight to behold. And you know nurses and gossip. But the seven-foot Alpha wasn't having it.

He made an example of those who dared. He protected his child like the father he was. Alpha Sergei Daniil Morozov. A man many feared and respected. A fighter and a lover as well.