Page 103 of The Pretty Psycho

We took a sharp turn to the right as we went slightly uphill, ending up on the gravelly road, passing by a couple of houses next to the road, until we reached another, smaller turn.

"Are you ready?" Adrian asked, waiting with the car turned on.

Was I? "Not even close." I chuckled sadly as I looked at him. "But I will never be ready. At least, not fully, and we're here. I want to know them. I want to know more about her."

"I'm here, okay? You're not alone."

"I know." I squeezed his hand. "But I think you should take the turn and take us to their house before I change my mind."

Adrian pressed on the gas slowly and shifted gears, and as we started going down the narrow road, I could already see somebody sitting in front of what looked like a garage. It took us less than a couple of seconds to come in front of an object, and as we did, I realized it was a man looking at our car with a furrowed brow.

His silver hair was neatly slicked back and the blue eyes I could see even from inside the car were filled with questions.

He slowly stood up, stretching his legs and pulling on the red hat in his hand over his head. My hands trembled as I unbuckled my seat belt, and before I could come out, Adrian was already out of his seat, standing outside with his door open.

"Zdravo."Adrian said just about the only word he could properly remember in Bosnian, and before the man could speak, I gathered all my courage and opened my door.

He looked almost the same as he did in the picture we got from the private investigator Adrian had hired, but the moment those blue eyes landed on me, we both knew.

I knew his first and last name.

I knew that he had two daughters.

I knew that he worked for some big company here before retiring, but he wasn't a complicated man. He appreciated honesty above everything, no matter what, and I know that life wasn't too kind to him.

I knew that he worked on this farm of his since before my mom came along and I knew that he took her in when she showed up at his doorstep begging for just a piece of bread.

But I had no idea if he would want to see me, or if he hated my mom for leaving.

"O Bože,"he said, taking a step toward us. His eyes got wider and wider the closer he came to me, and before he could reach the car, I stepped aside, closing the door behind me and standing in front of him. "Y-You're," he stammered, speaking in Bosnian.

"My name is Vega," I said instead of waiting for him to recover from his shock. "But my mom named me?—"

"Azra," he finished for me. "She named you Azra because she loved the song “Azra” by Vajta. She always wanted to name her daughter Azra. S-She… Are you?—"

"I am the daughter she wanted to name Azra," I said as we both closed the distance between us. "I am Elvira's daughter," I murmured once I finally stood in front of him, craning my neck to look into his eyes. "It is nice to meet you."

It felt as if a millennium had passed, but as his eyes filled with tears, mine did as well, and before I could turn around and try to run, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a bear hug.

"You look just like her. She was maybe your age when she came here. She… You have her eyes. You have her hair. You… My dear God." He pulled back, keeping his hands on my shoulders. "You're my granddaughter." The moment those words came from him, it was as if the dam had opened, and all the tears, allthe pain and fear and anxiety I'd been trying to hide had erupted from me, letting me wash them away with tears.

"I am."

Hasan Bektic was a proud man, that much I knew from the documents we got, but he was also a kind man. The type of man I would want in my corner.

And he wanted me.

He didn't push me away.

"Elvira," he cleared his throat. "Is she?—"

I didn't have it in me to tell him what happened, so instead I just shook my head. She wasn't with us, not physically, but something told me she was watching. As a matter of fact, something told me she was always watching. It just took me too long to figure that out.

"I hope we're not bothering you," I said as Adrian approached us, staying just slightly behind me. "I didn't know if you would want to see me, and, well," I shrugged, "I didn't want to assume."

"No, no." His watery smile told me everything I needed to know. "This is a gift for me. I have looked for her, waited, but after a while I realized she wasn't here anymore. Judging by your accent, you weren't born anywhere on the Balkans."

"No." I shook my head as Adrian placed his hands on top of my shoulders. "I was born in the US, but she taught me Bosnian. She thought it was important."

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