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Chapter 1 Ties that Binds

"Call for you Ana!" Andy, my co-worker, calls from the back room. I leave my spot at the counter and head over.

"Who is it?" I whispered as I took the phone.

"Diane." She whispers back, and my heart drops as I take the phone from her. "I'll cover for you." She says as she heads to my spot at the counter.

I took a deep breath and put the phone to my ear. "Hey Diane. Are you good?"

"How would I be good when you left me all alone at home?"

I sigh and rub my temples. Not this again.

"Is that really what you called to tell me?" I asked. I'm already getting tired of her constant drama and need for attention, and some days I'm tempted to just give her the boot, but she's the only family I have left.

"You're so rude. Is that how you speak to your big sister, who is in fact recovering from very traumatic surgery?"

"Diane, the doctor said you're getting much better, and you're healing well."

"Ana, the doctor isn't the one to tell me how I'm feeling. It's my body, and my pain, not his."

"Is there a reason why you called me in the middle of my shift, Diane?"

"Still so rude." She murmurs. "Yes Ana. There is in fact a reason why I had to call you. I need you to help me get something from the store on your way back home."

"Diane, I don't think I can do that. I'll be leaving work really late, and the store is not on my way."

"So what? You want me to just stay here and starve?"

"Stop being dramatic, Diane. I told you I left some food at home so you could microwave it whenever you're ready to eat."

"And I told you that I wouldn't eat whatever disgusting concoction you decided to whip up in the name of food for me."

"That was what your doctor recommended!" I shouted out in frustration. The line goes silent for a while on the other side before Diane speaks again.

"So, because I cannot move around and run my errands myself, and I am begging you to help me do this one thing, you decided to raise your voice at me. Nice."

"Diane..."

"No, it's fine. I'll get better soon enough and get them done myself."

I take a deep ragged breath before I speak again.

"What do you need me to get you?" I asked in defeat.

"You don't have to. In fact, just forget about it. Forget I called."

"Diane, tell me what you need."

"Fine, if you insist," she says, and I roll my eyes as I listen to her list out the things she'll need.

I get back to work and countdown the seconds until I can be reunited with my bed. The contrast between the calm of the café and cheerful chatter, and the tense conversation I just had does not go unnoticed by me. Dealing with Diane is so stressful, both physically and mentally. She had surgery a few months ago to replace her kidney, and ever since then, she's been milking it every opportunity she gets, even though she's obviously better.

What pisses me off the most is the fact that she never asked how I got the money to pay for her dialysis and surgery, yet she's always demanding one thing or the other. I'm still fuming with rage when my inner dialogue is interrupted by a tap on my shoulder.

"Are you good?" Andy asked, looking at me with a worried look on her face.

"Yeah, just exhausted."

"You sure? Cause you look like you'd want to stab someone awfully."

"No, I don't." I answered defensively.

"The dessert knife you have in a death grip would beg to differ."

I looked down and instantly released the knife I didn't even realize I was even holding.

"Rough talk with Diane?" she asks, concern etched in her features.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Absolutely. You always have this murderous look in your eyes whenever you talk to her."

"Well, it's a good thing it's just a look and not the actual action."

"Only time will tell."

"Andy!" I gasp.

"What? Most actions stem from thoughts alone. One minute you're reminiscing about it, and the next minute, BAM! You're committing a crime."

"Okay, first off, you watch too many crime documentaries. And secondly, that's my sister you're talking about."

"Doesn't stop her from being the devil's spawn."

"Diane's not that bad. She has her good moments."

"And how many of those moments have you been on the receiving end of? No, better still, when was the last time you experienced any of those so-called moments?"

I attempted to answer her question but no words came out. It's a struggle to even pinpoint the last time my sister was nice to me or appreciative of anything I did.

"You see? You can't even answer that question, yet you are here defending her imaginary niceness. Aren't you tired of her stepping all over you? Manipulating and gas-lighting you every chance she gets?"

"I am but..."

"No buts Ana. You need to grow a pair and set some boundaries."

"But she's my sister. The only family I have left."

"And you are also HER sister and HER only family. It's high time she started acting like that."

"I guess you're right."

"You know damn well I am," she says.

Just then, a sleek black Maybach is parked in front of the bakery and a man in a tailored black suit, jet black hair and dark glasses steps out of the passenger seat and walks into the bakery.

"Hello, and welcome to Bakes ad Dates. How can we help you?" Andy says, plastering her customer service smile on her face while I head to the back of the bakery, relieved that my shift is finally over, and I get to go home.

I leave the bakery and head to the opposite way from my usual route when a chill suddenly runs down my spine. I feel like I'm being watched or followed and that propels me to quicken my steps. Everywhere is dark, and I'm practically the only person on the road. I turn back and see no one, so I try calming myself down as I take deep breaths. I'm about to take a corner when I feel strong arms wrap around me and the world goes black.