JINX

EPISODE 32 [pt.4]

"N-no, you're not coming. . . And I'm leaving Ash here too, now that I assure that you're her grandfather." Carlo bites his cheeks and gulps his saliva as he says those words. It wasn't even his intention to leave Ash into the house, but realizing the reason they came here is enough for him to decide that it's for the best.

"And you talked to her about it?" The older man asks as he places down his sandwich and gulps it after chewing for just a few seconds. "Did she agree—"

"I don't need her opinion on this matter, and you know it too—"

"Why? Is it because she's just too young?"

"I. . . I—"

"Listen to me, mister Carlo. I know my granddaughter Ashley for a very long time, and I've trained her to become independent at a very young age. I've seen how determined she is when it comes to the things she wanted to do or to have. . . She WILL fight for it no matter what. . . Do you think she'll back out now, now that I see her willingness to join you?"

"But she's just— I don't even know her age!"

"Well, boy, age doesn't matter when it comes to my family. And we stand for what we want, especially when we're doing it for a greater outcome. . . So, you either let her tag along and well, including me, or you'll have to face Ashley's vengeance after you make her feel betrayed?"

"Are you threatening me?" Carlo asks as the frustration is quickly rising. But instead, the older man chuckles and grabs his sandwich once again before taking a bite.

"Oh no, kid. . . I'm not threatening you. . . I'm just giving you a wanting because as I said, I've known my granddaughter for a very long time, even if just so young." He says as he continues to chew the piece of sandwich inside his mouth.

On the other hand, as Ash is ready to deliver the pitcher of juice, she forthwith her steps after hearing her name gets mentioned in the middle of the conversation.

She clenches her fist when she hears Carlo's intention, as she waited for the right moment before coming out. She feels a bit relieved by just hearing her grandfather defend her, and she knows she has to step out. . . Holding the juice at hand, she walks out of the kitchen.

Silence quickly hugs them as she walks towards the table. After placing the container on the table, she looks at Carlo with an expression of pure disappointment.

"So, you're planning to kick me out of this mission?" She asks, trying to calm herself even if her hands both balled in a tight fist.

"Ash. . . Ash, look. I'm sorry, but I think it's best—"

"If I only stay here because I'm just a kid who doesn't know what she is doing. . . Oh, right. Like, I've never heard of those exact words before." She says, now showing signs of dismay.

"It's not like I'm belittling your capability—"

"Of course you're not, mister! I mean, who would someone treat me like my age, right?"

"I saw you almost dead into that water, Ash! You're on the brink of death! Do you think I let that happen to you again!? No, because I saved you, and that's it! That's just it!" Carlo reasons out. "I can't just see you die again, alright? Because the last thing I want to do in life is to f*cking see you, or Miguel or anyone left out there, lying flat in the ground with pale skin and rotting smell. I don't like that—"

"Then let me tag along!"

"Why do you keep on insisting on coming anyways!?"

"Have you forgotten what we've talked about in the hospital, mister? I told you that I wanted to help. And this is the only way. Either I end up dead or alive doesn't scare me anymore. . . Why? Because yeah, when I'm in that water with a fresh would on my shoulder, I already felt what it feels like to be dead. And now, I just wanted to take revenge. I wanted that freaking mister clock, and that psychotic pastor feels what it feels like to feel the torture. And if you still decline to keep me on the road, I might as well want to not you let continue from now on."

"What do you mean? What are you thinking, Ash?" Carlo asks as he quickly sensed something horrible in the way.

"I think I just have someone coming to get you, so if you cut me off right now, we go now, with my grandfather. If not, then it's time for you to end here. . ."

"Are you— are you going to kill me!?" He asks as he starts to feel his sweat dripping slowly. But then, she just chuckles before talking. Her grandfather stayed silent at that moment, as his eyes tell Carlo that what he was saying earlier is not a joke.

"I'm not going to kill you, no. I'm not that kind of person. . . But when I want something, I make sure I get it. And it seems to me that you want to betray me. . . But do you want to do that?"

For Carlo, at that very moment, he's confident that he's not talking to the Ashley he knew earlier. . . This time, he's talking to her dark side. The side that he never wished to speak with.

•••

It's just right about seven o'clock in the evening when dinner came. As expected, the guests weren't invited to the main table now that they made something that might have angered the pastor. But then, they were all more than relieved that this even happened.

Rice, a half slice of potato, and a small portion of meat are in for dinner. And all of them are singing for joy to finally get to enjoy their meals without the pastor treating them like animals. They freely use their hands to hold their food as they swallow without thinking of dying anytime soon.

"Here's your water. . ." The man with fluent English tosses each of them a bottle of purified water for them to savor without worrying about choking.

"Thank you," Melissa replies shortly as she shyly nods in the man's direction. They enjoy eating without any problem as if it's just any ordinary day for just a group of people eating dinner with ease. The men who came to give them food decided to leave them, making them feel more of the presence of a bit of freedom and peace.

But then, the night is still young when the thought of ending the day with happiness comes to an end. Right, when they were just rating after a heavy dinner, the man who doesn't understand English, the same man who wakes them up every morning by hitting his thick wood into the metal door, comes into sight, now holding his loved armor— the thick baton. At first, they all stand in silence as they stare at each other, not knowing who to talk to first. Should they ask what's happening even though they already know what's about to happen, or should they just keep silent and wait for the expected things to happen, yet, in a very unexpected moment of their lives.

But no words came out into the mouth of the man, rather than bouncing his head in a speed motion to the left, bouncing it back. A sign that everyone understands, Miguel and the rest of the 'guests' stand up willingly and raise their hands at a shoulder level before the others can even lay a finger over them. With Melissa's help, they immediately understood what Melissa and her friends wanted to happen next.

"Nous pouvons nous en sortir. Nous ne voulons plus que vos mains sales nous touchent parce que nous ne sommes plus des prisonniers." [We can walk ourselves out. We don't want your filthy hands touching us anymore because we're not prisoners anymore. . .] she pauses as she keeps her gaze focused on one person. "Parce que nous sommes déjà des joueurs. Donc je vous suggère de nous traiter gentiment à partir de maintenant, si vous voulez notre pleine coopération avec cette merde."[Because we're already players. So I suggest you treat us nicely from now on, if you want our full cooperation with this sh*t.]

The man didn't look too impressed by what he heard from Melissa. His fist curls up in a ball as he gritted his teeth, too, wanting to punch the confident woman in front of him.

"Etes-vous sûr de vouloir me frapper maintenant? Je suis sûr que le pasteur Roman ne voudrait pas entendre un acte aussi inapproprié, maintenant qu'il s'amuse à nous tuer tout seul. . . Oops! Cela vous a-t-il blessé? Ai-je soudainement marché sur votre désir égoïste de mettre le doigt sur nous? Dommage que votre patron semble aimer nous tuer tout seul et ce petit Ruther qu'il a." [Are you sure that you want to hit me right now? I'm sure pastor Roman wouldn't want to hear such an inappropriate act, now that he's having fun killing us all by himself. . . Oops! Did that hurt you? Did I suddenly step on your egoistic desire to lay a finger on us? Too bad your boss seems to be enjoying killing us by himself and that tiny Ruther he has.]

This statement made the man even look angrier, but a "one-point" ahead for Melissa, now making a full realization of what can make him mad.

"Putain de salope, tu penses que tu peux me parler comme ça? Eh bien, voyons ce que pense le pasteur." [You f*cking b*tch think that you can talk to me like that? Well then, let's see what the pastor thinks.]  He snorts before taking out his walkie-talkie. A short static radio erupts for a split second before he talks, keeping eye contact with Melissa as the others wait in anticipation.

The man talks in a low voice as they start looking at each other as if they're trying to guess what he is saying. On the other hand, Melissa didn't even budge, as she decided to keep her confidence, even if it's already torture for her to just stare at an intimidating tall French guy. Seconds of conversation later, the man presses something on his walkie-talkie before speaking to them, still keeping eye contact with Melissa.

"Quelle putain de salope chanceuse. . . Vous devriez être heureux que le patron soit plus prévenant que n'importe quel autre jour. . . Allons-y maintenant avant que le ciel ne change d'avis." [What a one f*cking lucky b*tch. . . You should be happy that the boss is more considerate than any other day. . . Let's go now before heaven changes his mind.]  He says before walking out of the room. Melissa turns to her friends as they waited for her to translate what he just said.

"Let's keep moving, guys. . . They seem to agree with our proposition." She says that makes them nod at him, with a smirk suddenly appearing into their lips. They all walk freely but still being cautious with every step they take. As promised, no one dared to t9uch them, but they're close enough to make still them feel a bit suffocated. It wasn't what they want to feel, but they are more beyond grateful not to feel a tight grip nor a bag covering their heads as if they're some type of meaning, ready to be sold in public markets.

The same routine happened— they waited as the man with them and the one that's guarding the door chats for a bit before opening the door for them; they walk inside the darkroom; they waited as the chills of the rook brushes into their skin; the creepy sound of water dripping from the tubes above them, the whistling of silence invading their peaceful mind, and of course, the violent throbbing of their heart as if it makes them feel that its the last day of feeling their hearts to pound that heart as if it's a preparation that they will die. The feeling is already inevitable, even if the scenario keeps happening simultaneously, in the same place, but on different days. These scenarios should have made them get used to the feeling already, but no. They're not.

Why?

Because anything can happen, and they still couldn't trace who's time is up.

"Good evening, my little lambs. Are you ready to burn some calories tonight?"