That following morning was a morning like no other, and it felt so surreal that Maria questioned if what she saw a few hours prior was even real, even though she knew it was.

All those pictures. All those women. They kept flashing continually in the back of Maria's head like a broken film. And every time she tried to turn it off, to just reroute her thoughts for a few minutes, it came back. It always came back.

And it was for that very reason why she couldn't even turn and look at him in that bed. She couldn't turn herself to focus on the man she devoted her entire, young life to--the man who she gave her body to, and had a child with--she couldn't stand to look at him. So it was at that early hour that she quietly pried the door open and began making her way down that dark hallway to the living room. The couch was going to be the only thing she slept with that night, and it was going to be the only thing she slept with from now on.

Time seemed to have stopped, and the blank, empty feeling in Maria's chest gladly made itself right at home. As she fell onto the couch, not even the gleaming rays of peering sunlight that eventually bled through the blinds woke her up from her disappointed trance. There was a slight ringing in her ears that grew louder and louder the longer she kept her eyes opened, and it made her want to scream. Oh how badly she wanted to go back into that bedroom and harm him. It all played through her head, this fictional dream of how the confrontation would occur--she would grab him by the hair and shake him awake and once his frightened eyes opened, she would give him a whopping slap across the face. The fear in his eyes stood nothing against the wrath of Maria's, and he would surely pay for going behind her back like this, she was damn sure of it. She would question him, and yell at him, and as he had nowhere else to turn, and his cowardly expression submissively lowered so as to not look his disgrace in the face, Maria would hit him again. She sold her soul to be with this man. She ended her childhood for him. She went through thick and thin for him, raised his child, helped his poor mother around the apartment, and this was her repayment? While she busts her ass, he thinks he can continue to play that highschool player role and mess around with whomever he wanted? No.

"NO." Maria angrily squeaked out as she clenched her fists into her legs.

The sound of old sneakers skittering up the hallway snapped Maria out of her red-eyed gaze into nothingness, and her attention focused on the dark-interior threshold of the room. Out from the darkness came Kal. He had obviously just gotten out of bed, and didn't bother to do much else other than that. His hair was in strings, and his eyes were almost completely closed. His clothes looked like they were just picked up off the ground from the night before, and there was a look of annoyance on his face and across his brow. He was on the phone, and talking so low that Maria couldn't even make out the words he was saying, but what did it even matter at this point?

Tears flooded Maria's eyes as she Kal glanced over at her. Yet, she wasn't sad.

Kal's brow relaxed and slight concern found his face. He held his hand over the speaker of his phone and leaned over the counter, toward Maria.

"Are you okay, darling?"

Silence. Maria's red eyes did not blink in that long time of looking into his eyes. She was looking into the eyes that stared at that pornographic garbage probably multitudes of times, and it disgusted her. What beauty she found in them before would no longer be there today. The fact that he knew what he did, and wasn't even bothered by it proved just enough to her, and nothing else was needed.

After no answer, Kal awkwardly leaned back up, not taking his glance off of Maria. His feet started rolling backwards until his hand felt the cold metal knob of the front door, and as he opened it, he gave her one last confused glance. Then he was gone.

Why didn't she attack him.

Just, why? Why was it so easy to imagine a scene where he would pay for his actions, yet, when she truly had the chance to do something, she froze? Nothing made sense. All she knew was that her child's father was a scummy man with vulgar intentions, and he was so concocted within his own filthy mind that he was utterly unfazed by his own disgusting actions. And he would get away with it. That was the kicker.

She brought her knees up to her small chest and gripped them tightly as she sunk her tired head into the nest of her knees. Her worst fears had come to life. And she didn't know what to do.

So she let her mind wander again.

How depressing it was to have such a beautiful day ruined by those who are living lives where they don't even care about the sunshine. By those who are more concerned with their own impulses and desires. By those who are drowning in the slime of their own doings and like it.

Why do the good people always have to suffer.

Kal was greeted by a cold whisp of morning air on his face as he exited the front doors of the complex. In his mind, he knew something terrible was going to happen.

The gang was going to be exposed. That was the bottomline.The police will arrest Jackson, and with that, the entire backline of the gang's whereabouts and businesses will crack open like an egg to the public eye, foretelling everything that it accomplished and had previously hoped to accomplish. There was no doubt in his mind that Jackson would keep every single word he sent in that message. He truly is going to take everyone to hell with him.

Unless, however, Kal can do something about it. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, he thought, that he wasn't awake to read those texts when they were fresh, because he would've responded. He would've been forced to act that night, and the endgame would've more than likely concluded with crossfire. He couldn't leave the world like that. He couldn't leave Maria like that.

"Maria.." He whispered to himself as he walked down the sidewalk to the street. "What was up with her.. She, she looked at me like I was some sort of, animal.."

Given the circumstance, he thought it was plausible to think about the other, smaller aspect of his life since the larger one was about to completely fall apart. He believed that given the time, he could afford to think about his homelife, especially considering that its days could be numbered. The damned gang could wait, and so could the authorities.

But, before he could come to a consensus about the possibilities of why Maria had acted the way she did, a solid, shiny Black Cadillac pulled directly in front of Kal and the passenger window slowly rolled down. A dark, fitted, glove-covered hand seeped out and made a come-here gesture with its creepily long pointer finger at Kal. He stopped in his tracks and suddenly Maria was once again pushed to the back of his mind without a thought.

He wanted to run, and the man inside supposedly caught onto that. As Kal stood motionless on the sidewalk, the hand pulled itself back into the vehicle almost like a snake slithering back into its cold, dark den. And it reappeared with a firm grasp on a polished pistol, its aim directed toward Kal.

Clearly not wanting to get shot, he jumped out of his motionless stance and quickly waltzed over to the car. The gun kept its aim.

Kal stopped when he was around 3 feet from the window and made sure to keep his hands by his sides. He knew who he was dealing with, and he had to make sure they knew he wasn't going to try anything. He knew they were not afraid to shoot, and they would kill him before he could even hold his wounds.

"Get in the car. Mister Jackson wishes you to accompany him today in his, meeting." The deep voice said.

"Of course. My apologies for not responding sooner, sirs." Kal sternly retorted as he slowly made his way to the back of the car.

And just like that, the car was gone. No trace of it ever being there, no trace of it ever coming back, and almost no witnesses.

Standing at the front doors of the complex behind the thick, dingy glass was Maria. And she saw everything.

In the midst of that scene, an impulse came onto her that she desperately needed to take a photo of the car. So she took plenty of them.

She stepped away from the glass and firmly held her back onto the sidewall as she scrolled through her documentation. And she almost didn't notice that barely, just barely, there was the outline of an extremely blurry license plate. She couldn't make out any of the letters or numbers, but she had it. And she would definitely get to the bottom of it.

"Now it's my turn to go undercover, you bastard."