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"But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever"
~Haruki Murakami
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V I C T O R I A
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One month later
It's been a month since that horrible incident happened, and I can't shake off the memory of the terrible feeling of being left alone in an unknown place with unknown people.
Dominic called me after five hours, seemingly forgetting about my presence, and I could sense regret and worry in his voice as he asked about my whereabouts. As he questioned me about how I managed to get home or if someone helped me, I couldn't help but sob silently as I heard the sounds of clothes being put on in the background.
After politely replying to his questions, I ended the call without any further conversation, and that was the last call or message I received from him.
On the other hand, I constantly receive messages and calls from him asking me about that night—how I got home, who dropped me off, and if I'm hiding something from him. But I haven't shared that incident with him.
He's been at my doorstep numerous times in the past month, but each time, I've pretended I'm not home. Yesterday, he came and banged on my door loudly, shouting my name at the top of his lungs, but I acted as if I didn't hear a single word.
I'm currently in a phase where I'm completely ignoring him, both emotionally and mentally.
That night Dominic's actions served as the final blow to my already fragile heart, leaving me with the bitter realization that he may never truly care for me in the way I had hoped.
As I ran from that horrible place, I left my last hope there that one day Dominic would notice me, see me for who I am, and cherish me as I had cherished him. But now, that hope lies shattered and scattered and I'm forced to confront the harsh reality that sometimes, the people we care about most are the ones who hurt us the deepest.
The nightmares still haunt me, but I refuse to let them consume me. However, I'm still afraid. I startle easily whenever the doorbell rings or if someone touches my shoulder from behind. I find myself constantly on edge, hyper-aware of my surroundings.
Just like now As I lay in bed, trying to distract myself from the haunting memories of that incident.
I decided to get up and keep myself occupied. Grabbing my folded clothes, I headed to my wardrobe, hoping to find solace in the mundane task of organizing my belongings. For the fifth time, I began arranging my wardrobe, placing my clothes neatly on the shelves.
Suddenly, my eyes caught sight of the jacket my guardian angel had given me that night. Today, I found the courage to finally touch it.
As I pulled it off the hanger and felt its fabric, I was flooded with memories of the comfort it had provided me when I needed it most.
I was inspecting it, when suddenly an ID card slipped from its pocket and fell on the floor.
I picked up the ID card from the floor and examined it. To my surprise, it belonged to a doctor from City Hospital.
Carefully examining the picture on the ID card, I confirmed that it indeed belonged to my guardian angel. As I read the name engraved on it—Alexander Archer, Neurosurgeon—a sense of gratitude washed over me.
Truly as the saying goes, doctors are our saviors, and that night, he was indeed my savior.
As I held his ID card in my hand, I felt determined as I stepped outside of my house to finally meet my guardian angel, and thank him for his kindness.
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Author's POV
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2 months later
A room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls and a man was tied to a chair with ropes.
His entire face was brutally covered with bruises and cuts, blood dripping from them. His eyes were swollen and blue.
He looked like he had been through a vicious beating, his breathing shallow and ragged.
Indeed, to any ordinary person, it would seem like a living nightmare.
"Did you touch her with these dirty hands?"
His eyes widened in shock and fear as he struggled against his restraints, unable to speak.
"Answer me! Did you lay your filthy hands on her?"
The man trembled in fear, still unable to answer. Suddenly, a voice reached his ears, and he turned his head to see a shadow leaning against the wall in the darkness. Only the glowing end of his cigarette was visible.
"He asked you something," the figure in the shadows spoke with a cold, calculated tone. "You have one chance to speak the truth. Did you touch her?"
The man swallowed hard, his throat dry with fear.
With a trembling voice, he finally spoke, his words barely a whisper.
"N-no, I swear I didn't touch her. I'm innocent," the man stammered.
"You expect us to believe that?" the two men retorted in unison.
"You're a liar and a coward. You will pay for what you've done," the man in the shadows spoke, his voice calm yet ominous, like the calm before the storm.
The man's heart raced as he pleaded for mercy. "Please, I'm telling the truth. I didn't touch her," he begged, his voice cracking with emotion.
"It's unfortunate that you'll meet your end at such a young age, but rest assured, your dear old father will soon join you in the depths of hell," the man declared, his words dripping with malice.
The man's eyes widened in terror at the ominous threat. He knew there was no escaping his fate, trapped in a web of deceit and betrayal.
As both men approached with their weapons, the man's eyes widened in terror. He knew he was trapped, with nowhere to run and no hope of escape.
"Monsters like you have no place in this world," the man concluded, sealing the man's fate with chilling finality.
A few moments later, the sound of gunshots echoed in the room as they both pulled the triggers, ending the man's life in an instant.
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End of the chapter
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