Capítulo 10: Nostalgia
Sitting in front of his desktop computer in the dim-lit room of his office hidden in the confines of a laboratory, Marcus Zephanie played with the ballpoint pen in his hand, rotating it using his fingers.
His elbows were perched on the arms of the swivel chair he was sitting on. A few scattered pieces of crumpled paper littered across his desk.
He was in the middle of creating a formula for the cure. However, catching sight of something interesting, he allowed himself to take his much-needed break.
Marcus Zephanie watched with great anticipation at the scene playing across his computer screen. He felt like he was watching a movie, a very captivating one at that.
This might have been a blockbuster. He thought.
Come to think of it; it has been too long ago since he last stepped inside a movie house, let alone watch an actual movie.
The last time he went, as far as his memory could remember, was 25 years ago.
Despite himself, Marcus Zephanie smiled at the thought. It brought some fresh memories, but he denied himself from walking further down that certain memory. The finale for that wasn't pleasant. He'd rather not frustrate himself with those unpleasant recollections tonight.
Tonight, he wanted to entertain himself.
Gazing back on the screen, his subject of interest was seemingly enjoying a dinner with a dashing man whom he seemed to recognize. If he wasn't mistaken, he was the detective who had worked on his case before.
Rafael Oliver, George Oliver's son.
Despite his young age, he has quite a reputation. Both George Oliver and his son Rafael were respected in their fields of expertise.
They are somewhat alike in many ways. Genetics might have played a big role in that.
And speaking of genetics, Marcus Zephanie smirked as his memories of his subject of interest's early days were triggered, images flashing before him in his mind's eye in successive order.
She used to be his little puppet, easily tamed. She never questioned and only listened to what he would tell her.
She was like his perfect little warrior, obedient, and resilient at the same time.
With such qualities, she was the daughter any parent would wish to have.
Briefly returning to the present, Marcus Zephanie stared at the beautiful woman sitting across from the detective.
She was no longer the same kid whom he could easily bend to follow his will.
She was no longer the scrawny little girl whom everyone thought was going to die.
Looking at her now, he couldn't find any trace of that little warrior of his.
Instead, she seemed to have become a warrior for herself.
Another wave of memories hit him as images of that day came back to him. The day he realized his perfect little creation wasn't his alone anymore.
He remembered seeing the fear clearly depicted on her beautiful golden browns and the shock evident on her face when Marcus visited her at the orphanage. It had only been two days since she had the unfortunate fate to witness the murder.
Marcus knew she wouldn't tell a single soul about what she had seen. She wouldn't dare talk about her nightmares.
But he had to be sure.
In her current state, she was vulnerable. She was a mess, confused, scared. She was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode any given moment.
He needed to mitigate that and, as much as possible, stop it from ever happening.
She appeared to be clearly shaken; her hands were trembling. Marcus Zephanie put on a warm smile, dismissing the rising tension around the room they were in.
It was a room next to the director's office, particularly for visitors or potential parents who wanted to adopt.
Marcus laid out a medicine box, pulling out a syringe.
The director knew about her illness. Marcus guessed that about one half of the orphanage staff knew about it.
News such as that travels faster than lightning.
"There is nothing for you to fear, Shay. I only came here for your routine check-up." He said, studying her carefully.
"You understand you can't tell anyone about what you know, right? You can't tell anyone anything about me or about us." Pulling out a swab already drenched with disinfectant, Marcus rubbed it on her tiny shoulders.
"Remember Shay, if you tell even just one person about our secret, they would not only come to know about me and what we're doing. But they will also know about you." The fear in her eyes had intensified. She shook her head vehemently.
Marcus Zephanie smiled towards her, gently thrusting the syringe, watching her wince a little as her body absorbed the medicine.
"Good girl." He mused.
Marcus was just about done giving her the necessary medication when a young boy of about six or seven years of age casually strode in, giving him a once over.
"Who are you, mister?"
The smirk on Marcus Zephanie's face didn't waver as he came back to the present. That boy was also a subject of interest.
However, he was a nobody, and Marcus didn't have time for child's play.
Placing back his focus on that very same little girl who had grown up to be a beautiful woman, he can't help the pride swelling inside his chest.
The detective sitting across from her has obviously fallen victim to her charm.
Apparently, it appeared that she was clearly enjoying toying with the poor detective.
It was clear who had the upper hand in their little game of cat and mouse. Their little dancing around each other was quite an entertainment.
But then, Marcus Zephanie abruptly stopped playing with the ballpoint pen in his hand.
The smirk on his face from a while ago vanished.
He must have been mistaken. Noticeably now, his subject of interest seemed to be smitten with the detective as well.
As he watched the scene unfolding before his very eyes, he couldn't help but wonder.
'How long will you be able to play with him, Avalyn? How long would it take before you fall in love with the dashing detective?'
Or better yet, how long will it take before you begin to spill your secrets to him one by one?
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
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