If you're reading this I'm sorry I haven't updated in a few weeks, school has taken over my life in half of my classes but I have finally finished my short story for creative writing. I have altered it a little bit to have a special one shot for you guys that I hope you will enjoy because it got raving reviews in my class. I do hope to update my stories soon since I have free time today and tomorrow at work. I am once again sorry for not updating, I feel so bad for neglecting my characters along with my followers and readers.
Calla Janes
Hospitals are white. They look like an empty void, filled with people with no emotions or care for the 'patients' as they called them, rather than 'nuisances' or ' burdens'. And she didn't like that. This particular little girl sat in a waiting room all alone, occasionally checked on by a nurse. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want her mom here. She didn't want to be alone. She wanted to go home, but the police wouldn't let her. A few officers stood outside a door marked Ivory Janes. The one watching her went to get a drink. He came back with a juice box for her. As he walked closer she saw his glimmering nametag reading Thomerson and he noticed her blank yet passive look at all the adults, he could tell she hated this, it was plastered on her face. He also noticed her ocean blue eyes, that seemed like a hurricane just ripped through and silver hair roots with the rest of her head a solid golden-brown. He gave nothing to it. He gave her the grape box and she begrudgingly took it. She didn't touch it, it just sat next to her on an old couch in a hospital lounge. She didn't want to be watched by a cop, or a nurse, or anyone really. She just wanted to go home. The one thing she couldn't get. She was tired but refused to sleep in this place. Who ever could sleep soundly in a hospital, a place notorious for death warrants, was weak. Was nothing but dust that deserved to be swept away and to incinerate. That was a little much for a seven year old to think. She didn't like hospitals because every time she went into one her mother would come out worse. And worse. And worse.
Now you might be thinking 'What about her father? Where's he at?'. Well the thing is she doesn't know her father. Her mother does or did but there's been no mention of him in the seven short years of life. He never sends anything or calls or shows up for birthdays. She doubts he knows that he even has a daughter. That wouldn't surprise her. Not the least. And another thing, she wasn't so scared of something happening to her mom, she was worried about what would happen to her if something did. Where would she go? Would she be adopted? Did she have any family? Would anyone want her? That's what freaked her out.
Several doctors had stuck heads around corners as if playing whack-a-mole and no one hit a target. She didn't like that either. They all really tired to avoid her, as if trying not to shatter her small world, they don't realize that you can't really put back together shattered glass. The next one to stick out like giraffe is the one she makes eye contact with. As if telling them Quite running. I can tell you're trying to avoid me. And they read it loud and clear, with a heavy sigh that doctor faced one demon. He broke the news that her mother was gone and that "She's in a better place." what she said made the entire ward stop and do a double take. Out of the mouth of a seven year old she said, "That's bullshit." Two words, one phrase, and no one knew what happened.
"Mom's not in a better place. Mom's gone and gone is gone. I may be five but don't you dare give me that routine of 'We did all we could' or 'I'm sorry for your loss' because you're not. You're happy because you just keep making money. So what does a life matter if you can live a high grade one? What do you care what happens unless it's yourself?" she turned to her officer "So what do I do now? I don't have a home anymore."
He was still trying to recover from her burst, "Ahhhhh- well, um.. "
"You don't even know how to handle a motherless child? How pitiful. I mean not really but ya know."
"Let's go down to the station and we can search for any family that could take you. Other than that you'll have to go to an orphanage. But before we go, do you know where your father is?"
"I know he's not here."
"Let's go, then." He was a blubbering mess, still not sure how to take this five year old, she was so mature and acted like she knew how things worked, but she was seven. What could she know?
She ended up living with grandparents for a while, until she was fifteen. She had become too much of a handful for them to take care of so she was emancipated. She stopped dying her hair like her mother made her do and let her silver locks flow, making people look at her odd, it didn't looked dyed but it had to be they thought. She finished high school and went to community college for a few years without getting any degree. On the verge of her sixteenth birthday, that's when things really started to change.
On a whim of a feeling she spun a globe and wherever her finger landed that's where she would go. Like what kids did when they were bored, just to pass time and mess around. It just so happened to land on Russia. At this time she didn't know how this trip would affect her or if would do anything for her, she just wanted to go somewhere that wasn't where she already was and like I said it was on a whim.
Now you probably are thinking 'What kind of story is this?'. Right? Well this is her story. So, without further ado, welcome to The Story of Calla Janes.
She paced around a studio apartment which was mostly packed up and away but it was mostly empty to begin with. Through the windows you could see a mess of silver rushing through as if a kitchen knife sliced through a piece of meat. But that blur was only Calla. She shoved away what little items and boxes she had to try and find anything that was hiding because it didn't want to leave this home for some unknown land, but it didn't get a say because it was an item without a conscience. The sun had begun to let a warm glow enter the room while Calla showered, dressed, brushed her teeth, did her makeup, and ate breakfast consisting of a bowl of yogurt. Once her feast was done she stood and looked at her empty home. She tried to remember at least one thing that would make her want to stay and she wouldn't get on that fight, just one thing to keep her grounded in South Dakota. She couldn't find one. Once all of her things were piled into a moving truck she locked her door and left the key to the landlord, who wasn't all that upset he lost a tenant. She left and didn't look back, even though she wanted to.
Her flight was, to say the least, long. To say the most, uncomfortable, tiring, annoying, dark, cold at some parts and too hot in others, barely edible, and long. She wanted an aisle seat but received the window so she couldn't adjust to being 30,000 feet above the ground below. Her food looked like a Stouffer's frozen meal for one but tasted like the Banquet equivalent. There was a baby somewhere in her area and the only reason she knew that was because it kept wailing like a Siren. She couldn't sleep during the flight because her biological clock was thrown out of the plane and into the ocean so her jetlag was worse than need be. Over all she did not enjoy the flight to the inhabited arctic land known as 'Russia'.
By the time she landed she was about to fall over and longed for the taste of real food, not some frozen thing that still had icy bits in each bite. She also wanted something warm because Russia is not the most tropical place, the sky was gray and looked like it was about to storm and snow dressed the ground. It all looked so bitter to her. She began to rethink traveling to Russia, maybe if she gave the globe another spin? She stood there dazed by regret and unfamiliarity and only did the moment shatter when someone bumped into her, well it was more like this guy wanted to get passed her and thought of now better way than by shoving her to the left.
"Excuse you," she snarled at the one who caused her slight dismay- it was a teenager? He had to be no more that fifteen with perfect, shoulder length blonde hair and shimmering green eyes but the most identifying trait would be the abundance of animal print barred by his shoes and shirt.
He turned to her with a face like he was ready to fight anyone, "Huh?"
"You just shoved me," she said, "I expect an apology." He just kept staring at her hair with a sense of déjà vu, he didn't even notice how she got closer to him and snapped in his face.
"AH!" He jumped back, "What was that for hag?!"
"That's for ignoring me and shoving me." He seemed to get lost in his own realm again, "What are you staring at?" He didn't respond "Hey, kid! Remember me? Listen!" She clapped in face and was so close to taking his nose with it. She clapped enough to make him fall back.
"What was that for?!" He screeched from the floor.
"Stop gazing out into the distance and apologize!" Calla's hand shook, she was so close to breaking him, any part of him.
"Alright, fine. I'm sorry."
"You can't even pretend to mean it?"
"I'm not an actor." The boy said as he climbed off the ground.
"What were you even spacing out about? Or were you just taking that long to comprehend me?"
"Ha-ha," she gave him a look of disapproval, like something a mother would give. He sighed, "If you must know, it was your hair."
Her face went wide with not shock, but more than surprise; shock-prise? Her face went wide with 'shock-prise', "My hair? You were lost in thought about my hair?" She could hardly suppress a grin, but it wasn't a happy grin it was one you give your sister when you find something out and can blackmail her, it was the sister blackmail grin. "Why my hair?" She genuinely wanted to know.
"I've only met one person with hair like that."
"Hair like what?" She felt like she had gone days without water and now he- what's his name?- was giving it to her.
"That silver, gray-ish color, and now that you're not trying to abuse me your eyes as well."
"I wouldn't call it abuse, more like 'aggressive attention seeking'- what about my eyes?"
"Someone's eager. I know someone with the same eyes and hair, it's actually rare around here."
"Okay, um well, I don't know my way around here at all, so could you tell me how to get to here?" She pulled out a little slip of paper and showed it to the boy, who groaned when he read it.
"Just, follow me." There was a tone of disappointment riddled in his voice but she was as glad as any to get out of the cold and home.
"So what's your name again?" She asked trying to keep up with this kid on the cold streets of St. Petersburg, her whole demeanor changed. She was no longer the physical embodiment of this weather but a sweet sounding girl who was reaching out to a stray cat.
All he did was sigh, he much preferred silence, "Yuratchka."
"How old are you, Yur-atch-kay?"
"It's pronounced 'Your-ach-ka'," he huffed.
"Right," she said as if she knew he was lying about something "I'll just call you Yura. So Yura, how old are you?"
"Twenty-one." If she had a drink, she would spit take and if she did it would have frozen icicles immediately in the air.
"You're twenty-one?! You look fifteen!" She started to laugh in the street causing most people to look her way.
"Then how old are you- what's your name?"
"I'm sixteen in October and Calla."
"Where are you from again? Not Russia for sure."
"America, South Dakota actually."
"You left America for Russia? Why?"
"Life sucked and I wanted out."
"Your parents didn't try to stop you?"
"My mom died and Dad has been MIA since 2000, my grandparents just got me emancipated so I'm a legal adult."
"I can see why you left."
"Hey, how do you know where we're going? Why are you just taking me to why I need to go? Couldn't you just tell me how to get there?"
"Because I'm going to the same place." Through their whole small talk she didn't notice how far they moved away from the city square. Small family homes lined the fine streets and avenues, each getting slightly more grotesque the farther they practically skated across a thin layer of ice, Yura made it look easy and natural.
They ended up outside a smallish brown, gray combination home with an old little green car that looked like it survived the war. Calla stopped to look at it all, this was her new home for who knows how long? Yura walked straight in and yelled something she couldn't understand, then an old man came into view and said something back to him. She didn't understand that either. The old man just stared at her like he knew her, like you smell something familiar but you can't place it.
"Hello," Calla said with awkwardness but confidence.
"Who are you?" He said with a heavy accent.
"Grandpa, this is the person you're renting my old room to."
"It is?"
"Yes."
"I thought it was an apartment complex, I didn't know it was someone's house." Calla said more to herself.
"Grandpa, you sent me to pick them up but told me nothing about them."
"Why am I renting a room to Viktor?"
"You're not."
"When did he grow his hair out again?"
"Grandpa, this is not Viktor."
"I'm Calla Janes. I guess I spoke with you about the room. Umm, who's 'Viktor'?"
"He's a renowned skater. He's magnificent and the pride of Russia, he's been retired for a few years but he's taken up coaching." The old man jested.
"You personally know him?"
"Yes, but he's nothing compared to Yura."
"You skate?" She asked as she whipped to face the blonde, "That would explain your frame and height. Did you also do ballet?"
"Stop digging into my childhood."
"So figure skating right?"
"What else!?" The old man yelped with pride. "Yura, show, um... Not-Viktor to your room."
"But I have practi-" he turned to Calla to directly blow her off but halted when he saw her Bahama eyes steady on him as if they were pleading 'Pretty please?' "Fine, I'll just have Viktor yell at me for being late... again."
"So he's your coach?" Calla asked as they paraded up a dirt brown flight of stairs.
"What's it to you?" He snipped as he lead her up and around a corner.
"Is there anything wrong with wondering?"
"When it's from someone who yelled at you earlier about nothing, yes."
"You bumped into me," she sassed after crossing the threshold into a dainty room, it looked like it was for a little boy with an obsession for cats.
"So here is the room, and there's the door I will now leave through-" she wandered as much as she could in the small area but practically did a backflip when he said he was leaving.
"Wait!" She yipped as she barrel rolled over the bed, "You're going to see this 'Viktor', take me with you."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because I asked you to?"
"Even more reason to say no."
"Yura, look at me." He did, "What if I said pretty please?" There were those eyes again. Yura looked as if he was saying no to a cat, more specifically a kitten, or that Viktor was throwing another fit over something his wife did. At least that's what Calla reminded Yura of. He was begging for his life internally, he couldn't take eyes that formed to lakes, especially when said eyes already looked like the ocean.
"Stop looking at me like that!"
"Why? Are you breaking?" She said different in her voice but didn't bat her eyes
"FINE! You can come but stay out of my way and off my ice."
"Can you really own it?" She said grabbing her coat after she subconsciously took it off.
"I've carved that ice, I have right enough to claim it." He turned to leave on a second attempt, this time with a manipulative cat behind him.
"Yeah okay," the cat meowed.
Ice is cold, it's hard, and in almost any form it can harm you. That's weird to think about, but it's what Calla was thinking as she walked at the heels of Yura and climbed the steps of an ice rink. Her toes have essentially frozen while her face looked over done with blush. Yura looked like he had at any other moment that day, kind of mad and wanted to punch something but at least he looked warm. She couldn't see his face but she could tell. The more he climbed the stairs or rather tried to get Calla to stop actually following him, the more he could see a predominantly Asian man waiting at the top for him. He had short black hair with matching eyes and a soft face like he was a mom that wanted to help and had a bumper sticker saying how proud she was of her kids.
"Yurio, you're late again." He said with a voice as soft as silk.
"Blame the stray runt." He said without hesitation, as if he had been working on a nickname for Calla his whole way over.
"Huh? What 'stray runt?'" the man was stunned by his personification.
"Uncalled for!" Calla yelled at him.
"Yurio who is this?" The man was struck by Calla's hair, it was so much like Viktor's when he was younger.
"Calla Janes, I just moved here!"
"That's nice. I'm Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov. You remind me of someone when they were younger, doesn't she Yurio?"
"I wonder who I'll look like this time." Calla said sarcastically.
"Have you gotten that a lot since you've been here?"
"Three times and I've been here a day."
"I'm going in." Yura said
"We should too, Calla." Yuuri motioned for her to follow.
They moved through the grand doors of the rink, Calla had never been to one before so she found it quite a sight. There were children scattered about and mothers chasing them while two girls resided behind a desk, ready to be of service. These girls saw Yura and let him through, no payment needed, they also seemed happy to see him like he was Benedict Cumberbatch or Chris Pratt. The ice was white with a blueish tint and it had been worked, covered in slices and cuts like someone who falls is covered in bruises, there wasn't a pure spot. Yura had raced ahead to try and avoid being scolded by his coach but much to his avail that was just a dream. While he was lacing his skates tighter than a cop with adjust handcuffs a man, who was very tall with silver hair fitted just for his slender face and eyes that seemed like they had been copy and pasted from Calla to him. They shared the same porcelain skin, and that was just the outside. Calla spotted him and froze ten feet from this man, This must be Viktor. She thought as everything else was drowned out from her small world.
Viktor had been hissing at Yura, as the routine goes, and failed to notice the teenage girl gawking at him until Yura halted his coach's voice and made him turn his head. Viktor stood there with the same expression as Calla, it was like a mirror. She couldn't move and he didn't want to scare what could've been a deer in headlights. But he couldn't help but utter a single word:
"Ivory," he said under his breath as if no one could hear the name echo from the walls.
"How do you know that name?" Calla asked as if she knew what to do.
"Well if you're not her does it matter?"
"Do you mean 'Ivory Janes?'" they still haven't moved.
"How do you know that name?"
"She was my mother." Calla thought about giving some remark like 'If you're not her does it matter?' But didn't want to ruin the moment, no one did.
"Your mother? She has a daughter?"
"She was my mother, she did have a daughter."
"You say it like she's dead." Viktor chuckled, and then reality hit him, "Oh, no, she is- she, she died? Didn't she?"
"How do you know my mother?"
"We were friends,"
"No," there has been no movement on her side. "There's more. How do you know my mother?" She said more firmly.
"Can't be helped, can it?" Viktor sighed and moved to sit down next to Yura, "Your mother and I were together."
"You dated? Is that all?"
"We didn't even really date, we had a few while I was in her town I left after three weeks."
"When was this? What year?"
"About fifteen years ago, in January."
"You mean more like fifteen and a half, right?"
"I guess that would be closer why?"
"You're an idiot, you know that?" She was getting angered by his obliviousness.
"I've been telling him that." Yura said to himself.
"How am I an idiot?"
"I'll be sixteen in October," she said with a sigh.
"Your point?"
"You and my mother met nine months before October in the year two-thousand."
"Are you saying-? No she would've told me."
"Unless it was right before you left and she didn't have any means to contact you."
"So you are-?"
"Calla Janes."
"Calla? Like a 'Calla Lily?'"
"That's my middle name yeah, I'm Calla Lily Janes."
"A Calla Lily is my favorite flower."
"Must be a coincidence." Calla was cold about him. The man who she has always wondered about, who left her mother and her, who brought such treatment from her mother to her, this is the man who gave her this life. Yes she had always wanted to meet him but now, now she didn't know what to do. She didn't want to be Calla Janes right now, she wanted to be someone back home in South Dakota, someone who wasn't finding her father who never bothered to talk to her mother after three weeks of whatever they were, the father that didn't know she existed, the father she didn't know she actually had. She wanted to run across the ocean and away from the dream turned nightmare.
"Viktor, are you okay?" Yuuri had asked as he took Viktor's hand in his.
"I don't know, I didn't know I had a daughter, and for fifteen long years I never bothered to reach out to Ivory, and now she's gone. I just don't know what to think of it."
"It's okay honey, it seems like she didn't know you either."
"'Honey?'" Calla said as she watched them and noticed the glimmering rings bourn on their hands, the same ring, the ring they shared. "You're married?" Viktor could see the hurt seething from her pores, "You're married? You had someone waiting for you, who named your daughter after a flower you like, somewhere else in the world and you got married." He wanted to say something to justify why he did what he did, but he didn't see what he did wrong, he just wanted his daughter to be happy, "God! I thought that if I finally met my father some terrible part of my life might be justified or have some purpose but you look like you don't care! You look like you don't want a daughter, or anything to do with my mother! I came here to possibly get away from my trash life, the life where I acted perfect as if I could please my non-existent father who NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT ME!... WHY WON'T YOU SAY ANYTHing? Why are you just sitting there? Say something, anything." The three just sat there in silence, stunned from her originally calm demeanor to this raging fire. After no one said anything she walked away. She kept walking and walked for who knows how long in the cold Russian air. She could hear someone calling for her but chose to ignore it like it was the wind. The voice got louder the farther she moved, like she was moving towards it. She eventually made her way to what can hardly be called home, and took immediate refuge in her room. She hadn't even noticed her damp pillow until a blonde boy was in her doorway.
"Why did you run?" Yura asked.
"Get out of my room." She barely breathed in a low and husky whisper but dotted with shattered glass.
"You don't know these streets well enough, what if you got lost? Or hurt? How would anyone find you?"
"But I didn't."
"But what if, Calla." The silence that followed was littered with shards that he was trying to sweep up, "There's someone who wants to talk to you."
"Well there's no one I want to talk to." Yura moved and let Viktor take his place, he looked like he was hit by a train, he no longer had a princely look but more like a hermit. He looked like he was sorry for everything that ever happened to her but wasn't sorry that she existed. Slowly he entered the room and moved towards her bed and sat opposite her.
"Calla-" he began.
"Don't."
"Calla, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't know about you. I'm sorry I never talked to your mother again. I'm sorry for every terrible thing that has happened to you, not because I care about you as a person, but because you are my daughter. The daughter I didn't know I had until today. I want you to never experience those things again, whatever they were you don't deserve that, but I'm happy that you exist. You are my daughter, and I may have just met you but from the moment I saw you I knew you had to be Ivory's daughter. You look so much like her, it's insane. Calla, I understand if you don't want me here and you can make whatever choice you want, I wouldn't hold it against you, but I just found out that I'm a father and I don't want to lose my daughter from mistakes I made with your mother. Please, let me be the father I can be if I have that chance. If you never want me to be a part of your life fine, but let me have one week with my daughter, if you're okay with that." They sat there, on an old bed with her bags still packed, in silence. But it was a comfortable one, like Calla wasn't Atlas anymore, she now bore the power of Zeus. After all these years, she thought her father would throw her to the side if he met her, that's why he was never there. But now, he's in her room, trying to make her feel better and take the blame for her life. He wasn't throwing her out, he was pulling her into a hug, literally, and trying to be the dad he didn't know he was. He wanted her to feel the warmth and protect her from the cold. He wanted to be a dad, her dad.
He had his arms wrapped around her without her ever noticing that he was doing so, not until she heard an 'awe' coming from the doorway. Yuuri was there with Yura at his side (who looked like he wanted to leave). Yuuri noticed he was heard and tried to cover his face for ruining the moment. Viktor broke the embrace and Calla noticed her arms weakly at his sides, had she subconsciously hugged him back?
"Okay fine. If you can be the dad you think I deserve then you can stay in my life. But I don't want any interferences, you need to be a dad and not a coach, make me feel like you've been here my whole life and make me want to call you 'Dad.'" Viktor looked at her how he should've looked the day she was born, like his life was finally complete and had a real purpose.
"Yurio, I'll be taking one week off for this. You can have it off too or you can work with Yuuri alone. I have a lot to do and I can't have anything else going on."
"That's not-" Yuuri stopped on Yura's foot before he could spurt out another word.
"That's understandable. I'd be happy to work one on one with Yurio." There was something about her aura that screamed 'REDRUM' but he knew he wouldn't be able to get out of this.
Viktor left with his promise and husband while Yura sat on the couch and fell asleep, his grandfather had retired hours ago and Calla was left awake in her room and debating the 'I have a father' predicament. She didn't know if he could do it, she wanted him to but was still a pessimist to herself only. The night went across the sky as the dawn approached and she was still in the same spot hoping for the good to finally bloom and she can snip the dead buds to eventually create a beautiful garden of Calla Lilies. Viktor had said he would be back that morning to begin his fight for his daughter. She peeked up from her bed and greeted the sun with a sigh as she began her morning routine, she showered, dressed, makeup, eat, teeth, cleaned her messes and waited in her room. He should be there soon, he said he would be there at ten so he could get an early start with her. I wonder what he'll try today? Over the top probably. Her watch read '9:59' with the seconds twitching by, she watched the watch as it neared the next hour and at '10:00' precisely a horned honked from outside. That's too accurate. She thought as she walked down the stairs and passed a sleeping blonde mess, she opened the door and sighed again, still on the fence about this week, about this day. She got in the car and gave a smile at the driver.
"Good morning Calla!" Viktor cheered, "You didn't think I'd get here at exactly ten 'o'clock did you?"
"Nope,"
"So, what would you like to do? If I may I want to know what you are like, any interests you may have, you favorite things, I want to know them so that I can know you." He said as he pulled the car away.
"What is there to do around here?"
"Literally anything you could want. Say the word and we'll do it. It is for you after all." She didn't know to pick, she had been there for maybe a day or two and now she was being dragged out by her father to be treated like a princess. That day they just saw a movie, but she didn't really get Russian films- too confusing. The next day they had lunch and she was more content with that, Calla knew what to expect with the food. On the third day of Operation Dad they actually did something, ice skating. Calla knew the basics of the sport while Viktor practically reformed the sport. He let her go at her pace and he went with it, if she needed something, he'd be there. If she wanted to know how to do something, he'd show her. If she wanted to talk, he'd talk to her. If she wanted anything, it'd be there. She didn't know what she wanted to do the next few days, something about that ice skating session just clicked with her, like she belonged somewhere in that arena with blades clutching her heels and brisk air spinning her hair. She didn't know what to do other than that so that's what they did. But not on that last day.
She still hadn't been able to call him 'Dad', she started by calling him Viktor and because they spent so much time together she called him 'Vik' but he threw the idea of calling him 'Vitya' instead, she liked the way it rolled off of her tongue so it stuck. On that last day where he had the chance to be they father he wanted to be he took her shopping, he let her have run of the mall. She pranced through stores finding cute things that she could go out in that could give her a better appearance, she also wanted to check out the candy shops, perfume shops, and tea shops. That day ended with the pair in Bath and Body Works, Vitya was standing near the back looking at aromatherapy candles and bubble bath, he looked if any sales were on and through the candles in his basket. He found Calla at checkout and bought all the goods and left the store, it was nothing special until they walked out of the doors.
On the second floor of the mall waiting for Vitya to leave the store, were cameras and microphones, recorders and over all, people. Lights flashed as he exited with Calla in front.
"Viktor! Who is this girl? Reports have shown you and her together all week! Is she a promising new student?"
"What can you tell us about her? Is there any future with her as The Pride of Russia?"
"Is there anything going on between you two? Anything the media should know?"
"What exactly is your relationship with her?
Viktor looked at her apologetically, he didn't want the cameras near her. He wanted to have his daughter for him and not the media, not yet at least. Calla looked back at him with a smile and gave him her bags as she stepped forward. Viktor didn't know what she was doing and let it happen, he let her be swallowed by the white lights and yelling reporters. The more she moved forward the quieter the crowd became, like she hit the mute button.
"Excuse me, I am Calla Janes. I just moved here, I came here to get away from a small town in America where everyone would know me. I lost my mom when I was young and I have been emancipated. When I came here I didn't think I would find my father, and have him actually want me. But I did, and I'm happy I did. So no, I am not a student of Vitya's, I don't think I'll be The Pride of Russia. But there is one thing that I am that'll keep you preoccupied. Dad," she turned to Viktor and took his hand to lead him through the sea of the living, "let's go." The camera's flashed more than ever at the sight of Viktor being a father, something no one thought imaginable. The jogged off through the mall as the people followed, eager to know more about Calla Janes.