0.1 | No Exit from Deception ✓

0.42 | Nobody Is Perfect. That's Why Pencils Have Erasers

"You gave her an injection," Mark announced like an idiot. He didn't lower his voice and naturally, Joseph heard everything as he was within earshot. "Have you gone nuts?"

Joseph slammed his glass on the countertop, rolling his eyes with furiousness.

The massive grin on Tasher's face transformed into a distasteful frown when Joseph slapped him hard in a matter of a millisecond.

"Moron! How dare you do this?!" Joseph pushed him back with pressure suffused in his hands and shook him completely as he grabbed his collars.

Before Tasher could back up his abominable act with a couple of words, Joseph pushed him to the great length of the hall. Tasher glided against the surface.

There was an exodus out of the chaos. Something hot ran in his blood, he dropped to his knees and punched him on the left cheek. The heat radiated against Joseph's palm. Mark's lithe muscles pulled Joseph away from Tasher.

A small red dot popped up at the point where his lips meet. Joseph ground his teeth and spewed, "She's not your wonted play toy. So, better keep your proclivities in check or I must take lethal action against you."

Mark loosened the grip on his waist and studied Joseph's tension as the latter sailed past Mark like Spanish galleons at war.

Tasher wiped the blood with his thumb and an unexpected punch landed on his face at the same time. When he glanced at the person, it turned out to be Mark who was looming over him. "Serves you right for this stupid transgression."

In the meantime, Ruby whisked away to the vacant room with that stranger.
He stopped at the threshold of the room while she was figuring out how to amend the rash promise. Her eyes welled up. She murmured in the gentlest tone, "Please leave the room after five minutes."

Closing her eyes, she laid her head on the bed as she knelt on the carpeted floor. She jumped out of her skin when she came in contact with someone's or the said person's flesh. "I TOLD YOU TO──" She stopped in the middle of the sentence after seeing his face. "Anshuman . . ."

Anshuman nodded and stroked her head as she cried, cried, and cried. There was no science behind why she cried so much, but reasons.

****

The next morning somewhat proved to be a little less heavy for Mrs Warner's heart as she was in the company of Mr Garfield. The betrayer whose absence from the last night's party wasn't put into question because her mind was deeply engaged.

She continued to walk left and right in her office, and unceremoniously declared, "I should have gone to her and asked her about her well-being first. But . . . it looks like I'll never be a good mother."

Mr Garfield was sitting in a four-legged position. He briskly rubbed the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray and said, "Katherine. Don't blame yourself for this. Frustration and emotional imbalance are prominently found amongst youngsters."

"Still, I don't see her fault in this. I'm worried about her." Mrs Warner pursed her lips and sat across him, squeezing her shoulders. "She couldn't open up with me."

"As I see things you need to worry about your image, your institution, and your reputation." He assuaged her so-called guilt by provoking her.

"I don't get you." Mrs. Warner mused, heart, palpitating with uncertainty ─ bringing along the only certainty of another shock.

He boomed, "They have papped Elizabeth and parlayed the distribution of such photos from one newspaper to another. There are certainly more pictures of her gyrating in a tipsy state than her formal interview with the media a day before." His unskilled finger pushed the remote button and the brown lady with a chignon continued reciting the news like a robot on TV. He was clearly guilt-tripping her to fulfill his goal of mitigating her tension.