- - - - - Mum's Part - - - - -
"ARGGGHH!"
...
..
.
*thunk!*
The former sound is of me screaming the hell out of my lungs, and the latter is of me butt-landing on the laminate floor.
Eyes wide open, I frantically get myself up off the floor. The room is still in complete darkness; I hurriedly reach for the switch on the wall and turn on the lights just to find that, besides me who's trembling with extreme fear, there's no one else in the room and everything stays in its place as it always has been.
Right... That means this room is clean; no dead body of a young man with a headshot kill, no evil gunman, not even a single drop of blood is seen anywhere, and the door is still locked securely.
Was I just dreaming?
Goddamn it! It scared the crap out of me.
I let out a big sigh once I learned that it was just a nightmare. I gotta admit, though, that it felt so real and hella scary. Look, my heart is still racing, and my whole body is drenched in sweat. I guess I must've peed my pants as well had I drunk more water before going to bed.
I shake my head at how wretched I am then sit down on the bed. For someone who never made it back to his room before 2 AM and just woke up from an incubus like me, going back to sleep is not that easy. I grab my phone and check the time on the screen.
01:02 AM
What a fucking primetime.
I'm totally awake now, and it feels kinda damp down there, so I check my boxer and thighs. There, I see...
Yeah, the trails of my juice, implying that it wasn't just a normal dream.
It was a wet dream.
Huh! I wish I could let out a bigger sigh.
It's miserable enough that I'm being too sick to go out for a hunt as I usually do, and when my body was ready to go for it naturally, I should've dreamed of ladies with booties instead of banging with a stranger.
Ugh! I would have to live in a den for good if someone found out about this. What happened in my dream should remain unsaid. Otherwise, it will become a family folktale and will be retold for generations.
I flip up my blanket and check the bed sheet. Good thing is there's no stain from my wet dream, so I use that part of the blanket in my hand to wipe whatever's left on my crotch like how a hygienic person would do. Then I put the pillow against the headboard and lay my back on it.
Well, since I'm still wide awake, let's see what's on TV right now.
I pick up the remote control and press random numbers, looking for something interesting.
Too bad that I can't shake off that nightmare.
It's so horrendous that I don't want to go back to sleep, because I fear I'll have the same dream...
Though that young man...
And our hot sex...
Still linger on my mind.
November 6th, 2018
Around two in the afternoon, I wake up again with a pounding head. Maybe the air in the room is too stuffy for a sick man like me.
I'd better get out for some pain killer.
Still drowsy, I crawl off the bed, walking out to the balcony to get my towel from the rack, then get back in and head to the bathroom.
Oh, where are my manners? Apologies for not introducing myself earlier.
My name is "Mum." I'm twenty-eight years old and I'm the owner of this room number "609" where I'm brushing my teeth in its bathroom. It's one of the almost-two-hundred rooms in this low-rise condominium in the Kaset-Nawamin area.
I also own a little bar and restaurant named "Halo," and one of the reasons I spent half of my savings on the down payment for this room is that it is located diagonally across the street. It takes less than ten minutes to get there by foot. I can even see it from the window of my room, actually.
And, yes, I'm walking there, but not before I put on this pair of light denim trousers with holes at the knees and this short-sleeve shirt.
By the way, this bar doesn't belong solely to me. I think I have to make a clear statement before you guys mistake me for being rich. I have a partner who is also my old friend; his name is Game.
It's that one, who seems so focused on a laptop screen right now, at a wooden table by the window.
He's my best pal. We both are from Khon Kaen. We went to the same school from primary to senior high. We only got to separate for quite a while when he passed the exam and got accepted into the Faculty of Business Administration of a university in Bangkok. Then just earlier this year, I came here to visit my sister and ran across him.
Friendship really never dies. We reconnected pretty instantly though our lives were so at different levels like heaven and hell... Yes, I was the one in hell, certainly. See, he had a good job in a famous company and I was just a freelance singer, hopping from bars to bars in our hometown. I spent my time during the day sleeping like I was practicing dying.
While I was still in the city, a bar and restaurant where Game always went to regularly was about to end its business for good, he bought it without hesitation and asked me to join him. He has always wanted to be an entrepreneur, and I have always been a bar hopper and spent a lot of money on this shit. Result: owning a place for a chillout has then become our new profession.
I just said that I spent half of my savings on room number 609, right?
The other half was invested here.
"What ho!" Game shouts out to me as I push the glass door to get inside. "You're all good?"
"Not yet. I'm here for some special meds." I reply and drop myself on the couch opposite to him. I turn to Nook, an employee who's busy getting the counter clean and ready for customers, and not so long after she notices me, she comes back with a tall bottle of whiskey and a glass filled with ice cubes.
Wow, don't she deserve a raise for this?
"This fuckin' golden potion, ya mean?"
I raise my brow, wanting to retort something to him, but my brain is too foggy to think of anything good. I hope a sip of this amber drink will help.
"You didn't tell your sissy that you'd come here, did ya?" Sounds like a question, but it is not. He knows that I sneaked out, so he continues, "I bet you'll get guillotined once you get home."
"Come on. Shouldn't I get praise for coming to work even though I'm sick?"
"Fuck you, man!" Instead of praising me, he's dissing. "You didn't come here for work. You just need some drinks. And you're too horny to hold it back, 'cause you haven't fucked any chick last night. That's why you're here, mofo. I know it. I know you too well."
See how he sees me through? I'm so paper-thin to him.
Of course, I can argue nothing as all he said is true, so I just give him a dry smile.
"Here. Some papers need your signature," came the voice of a woman in front of me with a black document holder.
The lady who's sitting beside me is Waen, the manager. I can say that we are so lucky to have her. Not only is she well-experienced in this field, she's also charismatic and can get everyone under control.
I pick the pen from her hand and open the folder to sign on the docu–madness or what?! What the hell am I looking at?! Why are there so many pages? And what are all these expenses? Water bill, electricity bill, rent, cost of speakers repair, part-timer wages...
This got me even more pounding to the head.
"I'd be surprised if you're not in shock."
"Are we in the red?" I blurt out a question. Judging by my buddy's expression, he must've seen all these invoices already. Plus, he's the one who collects reports of monthly sales and revenue, so he would know best.
"Nah, but we're not making much profit. I can't even see how we'll get to the break-even."
He seems a bit more serious at this point. I do understand why and I do want to help him like how a co-founder should do. Only... Only that I am too stupid. I even want to ask him what the goddamn 'break-even' is, but I'm afraid I'll get another shot of scold fire.
So, as I knew better, all I can do now is keep silent and sign on these papers to approve payments that I can't even whimper for. Then I realize someone is staring at me closely.
"What is it, Waen?" I turn to ask this sweet lady who's inching in on me.
"You look terrible as hell."
"Why, I'm sick, duh." I retort though I don't quite understand why she is paying much attention to how I look today. However, my doubts are cleared when Game continues.
"He'll do well. We can take a shot from afar. No one would notice."
"The hell are you guys talkin' 'bout?" I ask as soon as he ends his words. Why does it seem like they're using jargon when exactly they're talking about me?
Waen chuckles at my stupefied reaction then points to the stage and says, "Go grab your guitar and act as if you're playing some chords. I'll take a photo and post it on our page, letting the fans know that our pretty boy is back."
"Ah, I see." I nod my head slowly. It must be Game's idea. "A promo for Halo?"
"Of course, it is. Girls were going mad, asking about the singer all the time when you weren't here last night," says Game, chuckling, then he waves me off. "Now, go get your guitar already."
I follow their order with no fuss. As I stated before, I'm no good at business planning and development. The level of my knowledge in marketing, finance, or accounting is zero. I think only my skills in singing and grooving on a guitar comes in handy in adding numbers of customers to our bar.
Once I finished tuning the guitar and struck a good pose for the photo shoots, I walk to the kitchen to say hi to our chef, Ton, who's busy preparing some raw materials. We had a few words, then I walk out and drink the rest of the liquor. I help Nook drag the bean bags to the open-air area, then walk to the back of the bar to light up a cigarette from the new pack that I just bought. I finish the roll and walk back inside, heading to the same table at the window. I sit down and wait for its opening hours.
Halo is usually packed on weekends (including Friday, for the record), so we hire part-timers to help us out with the flooding orders, wait tables, and assist in the kitchen. As for us – I, Game, Waen, Ton, and the other two employees – we take care of those duties from Monday to Thursday.
There's actually another one who I haven't mentioned. Though she has nothing to do with the bar and already has her own full-time job, she always checks in on us and does what she can to help.
And... speaking of the devil, here she comes, that little lady who's marching toward us with a grumpy face. She has her hair tied up, so I guess she didn't wash her hair for sure.
"What're ya doin' here?" she asks sharply. Everyone, please welcome Mint, my sweet sister. "Didn't the doctor tell you to stay in and rest for five days?"
"C'mon, I'm tired of doing nothing." I give her an honest reply. I know she couldn't help being worried about me. "Plus, the fever's all gone. I'm fine now, don't worry."
"I'm not worried about you; I'm worried about the others."
Aww, man. Busted, I am.
"Don't you know that influenza is contagious? How dare you come out spreading the virus like this?"
Judging by the tone of her voice, there's no love and care in her words at all. Luckily, my innocent buddy Game comes chime in, otherwise I'll be stuck in her lecture for a longer moment.
Oh! Perhaps I would still be if she found out what Game whispers to me.
"Eleven o'clock."
I automatically look toward the direction where his imaginary clock coordinates and my eyes find a lady with long straight hair in a short black bodycon dress.
And, yes, she's looking at me too.
I smirk, making it the best looking I've ever done. I'll have to make a fast move as my mind is already visioning her body and her fine skin underneath that dress lying on a squishy bed in my room. Sadly, my planned actions are corrupted by this skinny body of someone you know who.
"Sis, move it," I say and wave my hand to expel this organic obstacle.
"Hell no."
"Jeez!" I exclaim. "What if she thought that you're my wife?"
"That'd be great, and I won't prove her wrong," replies my sissy with a facial expression that deserves a slap. I bet she can sense that I'm starting to get frustrated, so she puts more energy into her tone as if she's ready to fire another scold. "Can't you see how pathetic you are?"
"That was just a friendly greeting..." I drawl. "There's nothing else."
"Bullshi–"
I think our brawl would go on for minutes if Ping, the main guitarist of our bar, didn't break in.
"Bro, let's go impress our customers with your voice."
My heart is dancing gleefully once I know I'm getting on the stage again, If only my sister wouldn't interrupt.
"You sure you can do it?"
"Singing, you mean?" I smile from ear to ear and ask her with a teasingly sweet voice.
"Sexing, I mean," she replies in less than a second with the same intonation and the same smile as I gave her.
Yes. This is my baby sister.
We always catch up to each other. Maybe it's because there have been only two of us since we were kids. Our parents died in an accident when we were both in primary school. I was in the last year of it, and Mint was in the first. So, we moved to live with our aunt. Years later, she got married and was expecting a child. I kinda knew better that she would want some privacy with her family, and that Mint had passed the entrance exam and would go to a university in Bangkok, so we moved out and have lived on our own since.
However, at that time we moved out from our aunt's house, we had to part for like almost five years as my sister was going to Bangkok for study and I had to stay in Khon Kaen for work. Until early this year, Mint called me and asked me to be her company. I guessed adapting herself into a new environment, from schooling to working, might have dragged her down a bit, so I decided to come. At first, I thought I would stay for just a short period, but then I met Game. And here I am, having myself settled down in this sleepless metropolis.
Though there have always been just two of us alone, I've never wanted more than that.
Why?
See, she's pretty savage and my business is her business. She always makes me feel that mom never really left my side, because she's acting like one.
And look at her face now; even I laughed at her witty response, she still doesn't seem to find any fun in it at all. Instead, she lets out a big sigh and shakes her head.
But should I care? Nay. I look at my phone and turn to Ping who's still awaiting my answer not so far away.
"I'll be there around eleven."
Seriously, I'm not really into music. Not that much. What makes me feel eager to be on stage is the panoramic view I'll get to see when I do my singing there. I always have a vantage point to thoroughly scan the whole place and spot on ladies. When I've found my target, I just throw her the sweetest glare. Then I'll sing her some lovey-dovey songs and give her a toast when I get down. We'll have some small talk...
And then I'll take her to my room.
Well, that's pretty much how my daily routines look, and my sister knows it very well. That's why she's rolling her eyes.
Why? Aren't eating, shitting, mating, sleeping normal things for us people?
I just have sex more often than other people.
I get on the stage at the time I said I'd be. Tonight, I'll be multitasking: singing and playing guitar. As for Ping, he'll do backup vocals and make use of his percussion skill on the cajon.
I carried on many songs and laid my eyes on many ladies. However, eventually, I didn't carry anyone back home with me. I didn't even get the chance to give out my number or Line ID.
I gotta admit here that I'm scared of my sister. All right, you might've seen us quarrel, but I only retort when I see that she's not really angry. So, to keep the ogre sober, I walked back to the condo right after my duty was done just as she told me to.
No one complained about my early leaving even though it was not the closing time. Maybe they also don't want me to die before the right time comes, so now I've made it back to my room when it's almost half past midnight.
12:24 AM
It's not my usual bedtime, but I'm feeling so tired. I might've gone too harsh on my sickened ass, I guess. I jump on the soft bed, thinking about resting my eyes for ten minutes before taking a shower, then come back to get real sleep.
...
..
.
*sobbing*
I open my eyes slowly as I hear someone's crying. That wasn't so long before I realized that I left the lights on when I went off to dreamland.
And that is not so scary compared to the silhouette of something near my feet.
*gasp*
I instantly hold my breath and turn my head back to the same position.
A ghost, certainly.
Holy shit.
What do I do now?
Should I pretend to sleep 'til the sun's up?
But if I do that, will the ghost know that I fake? And will it get closer? Will it strangle me to death like I used to see in TV shows?
Or just... Ugh, I'll just get over it and check whatever it is.
Once I considered I wouldn't just lie still and wait for some eerie stuff to happen, I try to focus and remove all memories of horror scenes I used to see in movies, and have a glimpse at the source of the sobbing sound.
There at the bottom end of my bed I see a man crying Niagara, and though he's having his back on me, I feel like I know him somehow. His hair, his build, his skin – all reminds me of someone.
He's no other than the boy in my wet dream last night.
For minutes, I look at him as he's shaking due to the hard sob and start to figure how hard it must have been for him, whatever he's going through right now. I feel so sorry for him and can't help but get myself closer to him and gently touch his shoulder.
Then I realize something.
Oh, screw me.
Wasn't he already shot down like drop dead?
Dang it! I totally forgot the fact that he's dead. And I just touched him with empathy! What if he turns around looking zombie-like? Cracked head, eyes off sockets, torn mouth – what should I do if I see that? Will I scream like a girl like last night?
However, God still has some mercy on me and him. He does turn around, but with a normal human face. Nothing seems wrong, except the tears streaking his cheeks.
He hugs me out of the blue.
And I hug him back with no hesitation.
I pat on his back to comfort him and smell some strange odor mixed up with the scent of his perfume.
Some strong smell...
It's that metallic scent of blood.
I back up from him and quickly turn on the lamp on the nightstand. The light lets me see very clearly a thick gore spreading all over the front of his white shirt. His neck and his palms are also covered in stains of the same maroon color.
"What happened to you?" I ask as I scrutinize his thin body to check for other injuries, and I find a stitched wound at the tail of his brow and his forearm is still wrapped in bandages, just like last night.
Was he hurt? Or an accident?
But two days in a row?
But that's not what I'm really skeptical about. The blood stain on his shirt is still damp which means it's still fresh, but when I pull his shirt up high enough that I can see his torso, I don't find any wounds that would bleed that much.
Unless...
This blood is not his.