[Twelve years later...]
The vestige of the past loomed like a dark silhouette, shadowing my every movement. The memory of that night, which was shoved and kept in the farthest corner of my mind, seemed to have unleashed itself to haunt me yet again. Unnerving me to a fault.
I rocked back and forth, hugging my knees tightly against my chest. Almost as if the very act would create a barrier, repelling the pain that pulsated within my core and rippled outwards to each tendril of my body. The soft earth beneath me parted each time my heels dug deeper into the ground. My mind wished it would engulf me into its embrace instead, just to escape this torment.
Calm down, I urged myself. Usually, I find peace and solitude whenever I came to visit. The void within me would temporarily alleviate, only to be replaced with tranquility, leaving me lighthearted whenever I exited the gates.
But tonight was different.
The sadness and anger welled up the emptiness in my soul. It was overwhelming, this emotion I felt. It kept crashing through me in waves, which left me struggling to resurface.
"What does this mean?" I whispered against the gentle midnight breeze, leaving it to fate if they'll be able to get my message.
I stared back half-expectantly at the two tombstones, in lieu of my parents, and waited for an answer I'll never receive. It was the only perceptible trace that they ever existed-had ever lived, breathed and laughed. Everything else had burned into ashes, none left even for kindling.
My fingernails dug into my arms. It had been more than five years since I've last dreamt of the tragedy that took my parents' lives; somehow the move to the city had shoved those nightmares to the back of my head. Yet even so, I always find myself driving the hour-drive to the grounds of my parents' burial place, seeking comfort in time of need as a child seeks the warmth of her mother.
I lightly grazed my left cheek, the scars from that night almost faded into a faint indention. My left eye wasn't too lucky though; the incision stabbed a nerve that won't let me recover my sight and I have been half blind ever since.
Police investigation ruled out arson-they were unable to distinguish the cause of the fire. But I've always believed otherwise. They turned a deaf ear on my statement about an unseen attacker, and my cries for justice were left unheard.
The deep grumble from the dark skies signaled an impending downpour. It had been rain or shine for the past few days, due to a current storm. I snapped back to reality, away from the unpleasant memories and checked my phone for the time; 1:15 AM.
I kneeled over towards my parents, stroking a hand on each stone in an unspoken farewell. My heart ached for them in each passing second, yearned for their love and guidance. Yet fate wasn't in my favor and I was forced to face this cruel world parentless.
The drizzle began to trickle down my face, and with a last silent prayer, I was off. I sprinted against the moistened earth; the mud clung to my shoes as though part of it. I dodged the hindering maze of headstones and the rain gradually evolved into an onslaught, assaulting my clothes until I was drenched.
I finally reached the stone barricade that encircled the expansive land full of graves. Camouflaged within the vines that clustered the wall, were half-a-foot protrusions that served as a kind of step ladder, something I discovered a few years back. A testament that I wasn't alone in having unexpected midnight excursions in the cemetery.
Once I made it over the precarious obstacle and climbed down a neighboring tree, I found myself in the dry refinements of my car. I immediately booted up the heater, the warm air caressed my cheeks in greeting.
I sat there for what seemed like an hour, staring out at the obscurity of the storm. The rain drummed a beat against the roof, a calming tune to my senses. Once I gathered my scattered self, I shifted gears before backing out of the deserted parking lot.
Only to have my car backfire until it suddenly died.
I swore at my battered sedan, banging a frustrated fist on the wheel in front of me. Of all the time...
Looks like I have to start my day early.
* * * * * *
Despite the earlier rainfall, the sun shined brightly throughout the rest of the morning. The city sidewalks were crowded with people who shuffled about on their way to work while the streets clustered with ongoing traffic. The city blared with life on another brand new day.
I took in the sight; the tall buildings that towered over its dwellers consisted of both old and new architectural designs. They blended harmoniously with the tree-lined street walks which gave the city a natural edge. The mere simplicity and beauty of this metropolis always captivated me. It served as a constant reminder on how it had been a great idea to move here from the small town I used to call "home".
Although I tend to get nostalgic whenever I thought about it, I just simply reminded myself that it was for my own good. My aunt-dad's sister-was resistant on the idea at first. After the incident, she took me under her wing; she doesn't have a family of her own, which I never questioned. With her being the only family I ever had, it would seem logical that I stayed with her until I can do well on my own. But my insurgent self reasoned that it can help me get back to my proper footing, a clean slate. After further insistence, she reluctantly agreed, in a condition that I called and showed myself from time to time. I left after I graduated high school.
My back trickled with sweat as I walked the fifteen minute journey to work from my apartment. With my useless car at the repair shop, I decided to walk off the remnants of the nightmare instead. The mere thought on why I've dreamt of it again after for such a long time, was still a mystery to me.
I finally reached The Hawthorne Historical Museum, a little gem tucked in a corner amid the city. The building erected somewhere in the late 1960's, with its classical design akin to ancient Greece or Rome. Characterized with its carved decorations, pillars and symmetry, it was a wonder how it survived the pace of modernity-untouched by time.
As I entered, the workers already assembled the scaffoldings at the vast reception area-with their painting materials ready. The museum will soon be celebrating its 80th anniversary with a themed-exhibit-hence its yearly restoration. Mimi, the receptionist, was already at her circular desk, phone tucked in one ear. She acknowledged me with a tilt of her chin and jerked a thumb at one of the two glass-doorways that was on either side of the reception counter. She mouthed the word Ice Queen and I thanked her as I pushed the door.
A platinum-haired woman dressed in a pantsuit, stood amidst the chaotic exhibition room. She directed the staff as they packed the once displayed artifacts into labeled crates with protective padding. Others shifted furniture around the expansive space and carried glass cases out to the storage area.
"Careful on those, make sure you store them under the Egyptian Relics for inventory. I said careful you little twat!"
I flinched at the same time the staff did, who apparently almost let an objet d'art worth more than her yearly pay, slip through her fingers. She and her companion carefully packed the last relic and hurriedly set off as they pushed a cart with two crates.
"Good morning, Ms. O'Reilly."
Roselyn O'Reilly glared coldly at me through her gold-rimmed eyeglasses, the lines on her face contracted as she scowled. Being chief curator for more than two decades, she was beyond dedicated to the well-being of the museum. Known as Ice Queen, Slayer, She-Dragon and other profanity to most of the employees below the food chain, she tends to pierce your dignity with the heel of her stiletto shoe.
"And you?! You should have been here thirty minutes ago! Did you not read the memo?! Or did your good eye go blind as well? Just because you're under my watch doesn't mean I have to babysit you every hour!" On each word, her voice raised an octave. Everyone casted wary glances our way, as they quietly continued with their tasks.
"I-I'm sorry. I haven't checked my e-mail." I stuttered in a small voice, my face flamed with embarrassment. Even though we were of eye-level she tilted her chin forward and stared down at me-a sheer sign of superiority.
"I have no time for this! Just go and continue the inventory and cataloguing of the latest collection. Go!" She added when she registered me still standing there.
With one last cringe, I quickly dashed to the door which led to the offices and storage areas at the back of the museum.
Oh how the day escalated within the span of thirty seconds.
* * * * * *
"She was at you like a machine gun, doesn't keep her mouth shut." Lee demonstrated a rapid opening and closing of a mouth, with his hand.
I sighed as I adjusted the thermostat before I left the room-temperature controlled environment and state-of-the-art security features were the only modern updates within the museum.
It was ten minutes until seven; I had just finished unpacking the first batch of African artifacts that had been delivered. Lee, who has been waiting for me by the doorway, pushed his janitorial cart as we walked side by side.
"It's almost like she's about to swallow you whole, and vomit you out again." He continued on, his Asian accent, thick.
I sighed again; apparently The Ice Queen's mood did not improve as the day proceeded. She shoved down her fist on any throats that came her way.
"She's just pressured on the upcoming event. You know she always gets cranky during this time of the year." I told him as I shifted my bag awkwardly on my shoulders.
But despite the daily dose of O'Reilly's Wrath, I considered working at Hawthorne as my dream job. As assistant curator, I found peace and solitude while I worked with certain artifacts and relics, a piece of history itself. It was almost like I was secluded in my own little world and away from the drama of reality-just me and thousands year old treasures.
"Don't give me that bullshit; she cranky all the time."
I chuckled faintly at his buoyant approach as we walked through the empty hallway. I was quite fond of Lee's company. Ever since I started working two months ago, I barely rubbed shoulders with any of the other staff. Mostly I've been avoided, as though a host of some incurable disease, but there were a couple of exceptions-which were Mimi and Lee.
I waved farewell at Lee and as I was about to head off, someone yelled my name. I turned to the voice, only to see Mimi as she jogged towards me. At her heels, was a short haired girl who I recognized as Chloe from Administration. Breathless as though she had participated in a marathon, Mimi adjusted her crooked eyeglasses and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Chloe and I were wondering if you'd want to join us for a couple of drinks. There's a new snack bar just a few blocks from here." Mimi asked breathlessly but with hopeful eyes.
I hesitated for a second before I answered. "Oh. Um thanks for the invite, but I'll have to pass. I still have to make a trip to the store. Maybe some other time?" I gave her an apologetic smile.
The brightness of her face dimmed a bit. "Oh. Well okay, but promise you'll join us then." She insisted and squeezed my arm. She elbowed Chloe-who sported a bored expression-indiscreetly at her side. Chloe reluctantly nodded in agreement.
"Okay, I promise, next time."
We parted ways. The night's air was cool and damp from the earlier rain. I inhaled a deep breath and adjusted the collar of my coat against the gentle draft of the wind.
As I walked home, I reflected on the dream again; somehow my mind keeps orbiting back to it like a black hole. I wondered-as I had countless times-how things could have turned out if my parents hadn't died.
I automatically clenched my fists; for years the void within me only grew, being filled with hate, anger and...sadness. The unknown arsonist had robbed me of a normal life, a chance to grow old with my parents. My childhood had died along with the embers of the fire.
I've always hoped that I'd get to face him eye-to-eye one day; either through metal bars or down at his lifeless body. For some time, I've been tracking down news on any unsolved arsons within the country, but usually hitting a dead end-my hopes shattering along with it. I had given up on that idea, and had somehow moved on from that part of my life; wanting revenge. Whoever he was, he'll be receiving back his comeuppance in ten folds. Yet the resurfacing of the dream after so many years had also brought back devastating memories and emotions.
As I crossed the pedestrian lane, I was swiftly hit with an unseen force, as though being struck by an invisible wall. Mental images flashed through my head, visualizations not my own; a dark, secluded room, only lit by the moonlight shining through a small window, with a cloaked figure that stood erect at the center of the space, encircled with flickering candles-
Before I had time to comprehend what happened, a horn screeched from a distance and I was dragged roughly out of the way of an oncoming bus.
With the bus's horn still fresh in my ears, I stared at the large hand that clasped my wrist and slowly looked up to the eyes of my rescuer. The man stared back at me, his brows furrowed with concern. Somewhere in his mid-fifties, the man sported a full beard with salt-and-pepper hair. The creases etched on his face signified many past experiences.
"Are you alright" His voice sounded vague, almost distant as his grip on me tightened.
I nodded and I tried to speak, but gasped in surprise instead. A weird sensation covered my arm, almost like a jolt of electricity. My skin under his hold grew very warm, as if his hand emitted heat.
He suddenly released my arm; the current-like sensation dissipated instantly. I unconsciously grabbed my own wrist, my eyes narrowed apprehensively at the stranger before me. Who was he? I abruptly swayed on my feet, as though all my energy was drained from me. The man steadied me by the shoulders with his strong hands.
"You should be careful next time, Miss." He said almost too casually, despite what occurred earlier. I was left speechless and just gawked at his piercing eyes-glazed with a shade of honey brown. With one last reassuring smile at me, he hastily headed to the opposite direction and left me to stare after him.
"W-wait!" I snapped out of my muted trance. I steered through walking pedestrians and went after him. But after two steps, the man's figure disappeared into the sea of passersby.
That was weird. I shook off the strange encounter and the hallucination. I was definitely stressed out and exhausted which manifested in some way, playing with my head. Yeah, that's probably it. I somehow regained my strength and continued to walk.
The distressing thoughts of the past filled my head once more.
* * * * * *
As I entered the apartment, I was greeted by a strong creamy aroma of something seafood-ish. Lauren stood at the kitchen, with one hand on her waist while the other held a ladle. She stirred from a small pot which emitted a puff of steam. Even though she had on an apron over a patterned sweater paired with leggings-she still rocked the look.
Lauren and I had been friends since college. We've met at a seminar related to our courses; she took up Fine Arts while I, the Classics. She worked at a contemporary art gallery downtown.
"Hey, there she is. How's work?" She asked with a grin on her face.
"Same old, same old." I set the bag of groceries I've bought earlier from the store, on the countertop. I cautiously walked closer to the source of the pungent scent. "Oh my god is that what I think you're doing. Cooking?" I dramatically widened my eyes for a dreaded effect.
"Oh ha ha. Like you aren't used to my culinary expertise." She gave me a wink.
I rolled my eyes at her as I went to the collapse on the couch. I leaned my head on the soft cushions and closed my eyes. I emptied my mind from the stress that occurred ever since the early hours of the day.
Lauren laughed at me. "What's up with you? Been hookin' up with someone lately?"
I peeked through my lashes, appalled by the euphemism in her statement. She was literally smiling from ear to ear. I hurled one of the decorative pillows to her direction which hit her square on the face. She caught it once it bounced off her head and joined me on the sofa.
"Look who's talking. So how's your date with Nate last night?" I smirked weakly, referring to her latest suitor.
She beamed in spite of herself. "It was...fun. He'll be dropping by later for dinner." She gazed off at the ceiling while she twisted a strand of her blond locks, deep in thought.
As I was about to doze off, my phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. With a reluctant hand, I saw it was a text from my best friend, Jake, who wanted to meet up for lunch tomorrow.
Without my acknowledgement, Lauren leaned against me and stole a look at my reply. She threw me a suspicious look, with a perceptive smirk plastered on her face.
Not good.
"You know, I wouldn't be surprised if you two ended up with each other." She shook her head at me, like some lost cause.
"Lauren! That would be like incest." I have always considered Jake as a brother, no more no less.
Interested, she flexed back and crossed her arms. "You're not even related by blood, I'm just saying. You know the usual cliché story of two best friends of the opposite sex; one would always fall for the other but the feeling isn't mutual, then things would fall apart and stuff. It's inevitable."
My scowl deepened at her absurdity. "Where is this coming from? You read too much romantic novels. Maybe I should warn Nate regarding of your expectations and that he better up his game once both of you have se-"
She threw back the pillow at me before I could even finish. We both gave out unladylike laughs, amused by our juvenility. The tension that lingered from today vanished.
As Lauren headed back to the kitchen, a breaking news interrupted the usual soap opera. I searched for the remote and raised the volume. A body of a man was discovered floating on a river thirty minutes ago. A video showed how they retrieved the body by the riverbank, blurring the graphic scene. The newscaster reported that it appeared he jumped from a nearby bridge. Police were still conducting further investigations if whether foul-play was involved or a case of suicide. The TV flashed the victim's license; the man was somewhere in his mid-fifties, his head full of silvery-gray mane. His eyes glazed a familiar shade of brown.
"Oh my god." My jaw dropped as I stared at the photo, shocked. He had yet to grow a beard in the picture, but there was no mistake that this was the very same man who rescued me earlier.
Lauren, who witnessed my change of demeanor, went to my side and shook my shoulder. "What's wrong? Did you know him?" She asked.
"I-I bumped into him on my way home, he saved me from an approaching bus." I explained, still in a stunned trance.
"Wait, you almost got ran over by a bus?! And you have no plans on telling me?"
"It doesn't seem to matter, I didn't die anyway." I told her as I watched the program returned to its scheduled show. A sickening feeling twisted in my gut.
"It does matter, Alex." She sighed and her eyes narrowed. "It's so weird; he saved your life just to end his."
The doorbell rang and Lauren let out a small squeal-thoughts on the man forgotten. "He's here! Go on to your room and shower. You stink." She teased as she skipped to get the door.
With one last look at the television, I dragged my body to my room and buried myself on the bed; too tired to do anything else.
I drifted into a dreamless sleep.
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A/N: Don't forget to vote if you liked the chapter so far! And please don't be a silent reader and comment your thoughts!
- J