The Secret behind his Death

ALEXANDER BLACKWOOD'S POV Hindi ako naniniwala sa multo. Hindi ako naniniwala sa mga kaluluwang bumabalik mula sa kabilang buhay, sa mga sumpang ipinapasa mula sa isang henerasyon patungo sa susunod, o sa mga kuwentong ginagamit ng matatanda upang takutin ang mga batang suwail. I was raised to believe that everything had an explanation. Every disappearance has a reason. Every murder has a motive. And every secret has someone willing to kill just to keep it buried. But tonight… I began to question everything I had ever believed. Lalo na nang marinig ko ang sarili kong pangalan mula sa isang boses na hindi ko dapat naririnig. "ALEXANDER!" Napalingon ako sa likuran ko. Walang tao. Tanging ang mahabang pasilyo ng Blackwood Mansion ang bumungad sa akin. Madilim ang paligid, maliban sa ilang ilaw na kumikislap sa kisame. The grandfather clock near the staircase continued ticking, its sound unusually loud against the deafening silence. It was exactly midnight. I checked my wristwatch. 12:00 A.M. "Damn it." Muli akong humakbang, ngunit bago pa ako tuluyang makarating sa pintuan ng aking opisina ay may narinig akong kaluskos mula sa ikalawang palapag. Someone was upstairs. "Who's there?" Walang sumagot. Inilabas ko ang baril na nakatago sa likuran ng aking pantalon. Hindi ako basta-bastang natatakot, pero hindi rin ako isang hangal na maglalakad sa loob ng sarili kong bahay nang walang armas habang may ibang taong naglilibot sa ganitong oras. I slowly climbed the staircase. Bawat hakbang ay sinabayan ng mahinang paglangitngit ng sahig. Pagdating ko sa ikalawang palapag ay napansin kong bahagyang nakabukas ang pinto ng silid na matagal nang ipinagbabawal pasukin ng sinumang naninirahan sa mansyon. My father's room. The room that had remained locked for years. "Interesting." Itinulak ko ang pinto gamit ang isang kamay. At doon ko nakita ang isang bagay na nagpahinto sa paghinga ko. Isang pulang rosas ang nakapatong sa ibabaw ng kama. Fresh. May mga patak pa ng tubig ang mga talulot nito, na para bang kakapitas lamang mula sa hardin. But that wasn't what frightened me. It was the photograph beside it. Dahan-dahan ko iyong kinuha. A picture of me. Taken from outside my bedroom window. "Son of a bitch." May maliit na papel na nakatiklop sa ilalim ng litrato. Binuksan ko iyon at binasa ang nakasulat. YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE OPENED THE DOOR, ALEXANDER. Napakunot ang noo ko. "What the hell is this?" Biglang namatay ang ilaw. Kasabay niyon ay ang malakas na pagbagsak ng isang bagay mula sa likuran ko. Mabilis akong napalingon at itinutok ang baril sa direksiyon ng tunog. "Show yourself!" Isang mahinang tawa ang narinig ko. Isang babaeng boses. "You're still as arrogant as ever, Alexander." Nanlamig ang mga daliri ko sa pagkakahawak sa baril. I knew that voice. Impossible. Hindi maaari. "Who's there?" ulit kong tanong. "Don't you recognize me?" "Stop playing games!" "Games?" Mahinang natawa ang babae. "You really think this is a game?" May narinig akong yabag sa likuran ko. Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo. Then silence. "Look at the mirror, Alexander." Dahan-dahan akong napatingin sa malaking salamin sa tapat ng kama. At doon ko siya nakita. Isang babaeng nakasuot ng puting bestida, mahaba ang itim na buhok, at may bahid ng dugo sa kaniyang dibdib. Nakatingin siya sa akin. But when I turned around… There was no one. Fuck. Muli akong humarap sa salamin. Nandoon pa rin siya. Nakatingin sa akin habang unti-unting umaangat ang kaniyang mga labi sa isang nakakatakot na ngiti. "You're going to die." BANG! Isang putok ng baril ang umalingawngaw sa buong mansyon. Napaatras ako at napalingon sa pinto. "Alexander!" Pamilyar ang boses na iyon. Si Marcus. My most trusted head of security. Mabilis siyang pumasok sa silid, hawak ang sariling baril habang sinusuri ang paligid. "Sir! Are you okay?" "Did you see someone?" "Someone? Wala po akong nakitang kahit sino. Bakit po?" Itinuro ko ang salamin. "She's there." Napatingin siya sa direksiyon na itinuturo ko. Then he looked back at me. "Sir, there's no one." "Don't f*****g lie to me, Marcus!" "Sir, kalmado lang po kayo." Lumapit ako sa salamin at hinawakan ang malamig nitong gilid. Wala na ang babae. But something else caught my attention. May nakasulat sa salamin. Mga salitang tila isinulat gamit ang sariling dugo. SHE KNOWS WHAT YOU DID. Napaatras ako. For the first time in years, I felt something I had never allowed myself to feel. Fear. "Marcus." "Yes, sir?" "Lock down the entire mansion. Nobody gets in. Nobody gets out." "Understood, sir." "And find out who entered this room." "Yes, sir." Nang aalis na siya ay bigla ko siyang tinawag. "One more thing." Huminto siya sa may pintuan. "Find out who sent that photograph." Kinuha ko ang litrato mula sa ibabaw ng kama at muling tiningnan ang mukha ko. "Because whoever did this knows where I sleep." Tumango siya bago tuluyang lumabas. Naiwan akong mag-isa sa silid. At nang akala ko ay tapos na ang lahat, muling tumunog ang cellphone ko. Unknown Number. I answered the call. "Who is this?" Walang sumagot. "Who the hell are you?" May ilang segundong katahimikan bago ako nakarinig ng mahinang paghinga. Then a familiar voice whispered. "Alexander…" Nanigas ang buong katawan ko. That voice. I would recognize it even if I heard it a thousand years from now. "You're not supposed to be alive," I whispered. A soft chuckle came from the other end. "Neither are you." Napatingin ako sa pintuan. "Who are you?" "Someone you've already killed." Napahigpit ang hawak ko sa cellphone. "Stop this nonsense." "Do you remember the night of October 31?" Hindi ako sumagot. "Do you remember the blood on your hands?" "Shut up." "Do you remember what happened in the garden?" "SHUT UP!" Biglang naputol ang tawag. I stood there, breathing heavily. October 31. The night everything changed. The night someone disappeared. The night my father died. And the night I made a promise that I would take the truth to my grave. I thought I had buried the past. I thought money, power, and influence could erase every trace of what happened. But I was wrong. Because the past wasn't buried. It was waiting. THREE DAYS LATER "Sir, may problema tayo." Nasa loob ako ng aking opisina nang pumasok si Marcus nang hindi kumakatok. I was reviewing some documents when I noticed the unusual expression on his face. "What is it?" "Someone was found dead this morning." I slowly placed the document on my desk. "And?" "Sa likod po ng Blackwood estate." Napatingin ako sa kaniya. "What?" "May nakitang katawan sa ilalim ng lumang puno ng rosas." Tumayo ako mula sa aking upuan. "Did you identify the victim?" He hesitated. "That's the problem, sir." "What problem?" "May hawak po siyang litrato." "Of whom?" Marcus swallowed hard. Then he placed a small plastic evidence bag on my desk. Inside it was a photograph. A photograph of a woman. A woman I had spent years trying to forget. My fingers slowly tightened around the edge of the desk. "Where did you get this?" "From the victim's pocket, sir." I stared at the photograph. Then I noticed something written on its back. SHE IS COMING FOR YOU. "Who found the body?" "One of the gardeners, sir." "Get him here." "He's already missing." I slowly raised my head. "What did you just say?" "He's gone, sir. We checked his quarters. His belongings are still there, but there's no sign of him." I let out a humorless laugh. This was no coincidence. Someone was playing with me. Someone wanted me to remember. And whoever that person was had made one fatal mistake. They thought they could frighten me inside my own territory. I picked up my gun and slipped it into my shoulder holster. "Prepare the car." "Where are we going, sir?" I looked outside the window. The sky was unusually dark despite the afternoon sun. Beyond the glass, the garden was filled with red roses swaying against the cold wind. "To the cemetery." "Sir?" I stared at the photograph one last time. "There's someone I need to visit." THAT NIGHT I stood in front of an old tombstone. The rain poured heavily, soaking my black coat while the wind swept through the cemetery. I looked down at the name engraved on the marble. A name I had never forgotten. A name that haunted every dream I had. Then I noticed something unusual. Fresh red roses had been placed in front of the grave. I crouched and picked up one of them. A small piece of paper was attached to its stem. My eyes narrowed as I unfolded it. THE DEAD NEVER KEEP SECRETS FOREVER. I slowly stood up. "You're making a mistake," I muttered. A sudden gust of wind swept through the cemetery. Then I heard footsteps. Someone was standing behind me. "Alexander Blackwood." I turned around. A woman stood a few meters away, holding a black umbrella. I couldn't see her face clearly because of the darkness. But there was something familiar about her. The way she stood. The way she tilted her head. And the way she pronounced my name. "Who are you?" She took one step forward. "Someone who knows the truth." I raised my gun. "Then I suggest you start talking." She didn't move. Instead, she smiled. "You're going to regret asking." "Try me." She tilted her head, her eyes fixed on mine. "Tell me, Alexander…" She took another step closer. "Kung mamamatay ka bukas, would you still keep the secret?" I said nothing. She smiled again. "That's what I thought." Then she turned around and walked away. I was about to follow her when my phone vibrated. An incoming message. Unknown Number. I opened it. There was only one sentence. SHE'S NOT THE FIRST WOMAN YOU'VE KILLED. I looked up. The woman was gone. And for the first time in my life, I had no idea who was hunting whom. I lowered my phone and stared at the grave in front of me. My reflection appeared faintly on the wet marble. But behind my reflection… There was another figure. A woman. Standing right behind my shoulder. I spun around. Nothing. Only the darkness. I looked back at the tombstone. And that's when I noticed something that made my blood run cold. The name engraved on the grave had changed. It was no longer the name of the woman I had buried. It was mine. ALEXANDER BLACKWOOD. My name. My date of birth. And beneath it… A date of death. TONIGHT. I stepped back. A whisper brushed against my ear. "Welcome back, Alexander." I closed my eyes for a second. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being c****d. Someone was standing behind me. And before I could turn around, a familiar voice whispered— "Time to pay for what you've done." They say the truth will set you free. But nobody ever warned me that sometimes… THE TRUTH IS THE THING THAT KILLS YOU.