Bound by Fate

Chapter 4

Vincent

The rumble of the engine vibrated under me as I trailed the bus, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. Suddenly, chaos erupted inside. The doors hissed open, and a man sprinted out, fear etched on his face. Genevieve, her normally calm demeanor replaced by a fierce determination, was hot on his heels. But despite her valiant chase, the distance between them remained.

My hand clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white. What has happened? My first instinct was to jump out and call out to her, but then her eyes darted towards me, a flicker of recognition before she disappeared back onto the bus.

The door handle felt hot under my touch, but I hesitated. Something was wrong, I could feel it. The bus pulled away, leaving me parked at the curb, the silence deafening.

"Excuse me," I stopped an elderly woman disembarking, my voice tight with urgency. "What happened on the bus just now?"

She looked up, her gaze clouded by the remnants of the incident. "A disgusting man," she spat, her voice shaking with indignation. "He harassed a young girl, brazen and unapologetic. But the girl was brave! Stabbed his hand with a pen, threatened the police, cameras – the whole lot! Sent him running with his tail between his legs, that's what she did!"

A smug smile played on the woman's lips. "He must have felt guilty, that's for sure!"

"What did the girl look like?" I pressed, my heart pounding with a growing dread. "I saw someone who might have been a classmate..."

The woman furrowed her brow, recalling the details. "Pretty girl, student-looking," she mumbled, mentioning Genevieve's hairstyle and clothes.

It was her. My blood ran cold. Genevieve had faced something unspeakable on that bus. Satisfied with feeding the her gossip appetite, she sauntered off, oblivious to the storm brewing within me.

I narrowed my eyes, scanning the street where the bespectacled man had fled. Without a word, I climbed back into the car, slammed the door shut, and ignited the engine. The tires screeched as I pulled onto the side road, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Four wheels were faster than two legs. It wasn't long before I spotted him, hunched over on the sidewalk, clutching his injured hand. I slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt.

He muttered curses under his breath, fear widening his eyes as I emerged from the car, my shadow engulfing him. Bullies preyed on the weak, feared the strong, and this man was no different. Even with distance separating us, he felt the invisible barrier I erected, instinctively cowering with each step I took closer.

His bravado crumbled. I pushed him with a single, firm hand, sending him stumbling back. "What did you do to her?" my voice was a low growl.

His eyes darted away, his bravado replaced by a pathetic whimper. "None of your business!"

I smirked, a cold smile devoid of warmth.

My fist connected with his face before he could react. A satisfying crunch echoed in the air as a tooth went flying. He crumpled like a ragdoll, eyes rolling back in his head, the bravado replaced by whimpers of pain. He deserved every bit of it.

Pedestrians on the sidewalk were startled and steered clear of us. Some hurried away, while others glanced back repeatedly. I knew that with that punch, an ordinary person wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. I lit a cigarette, took a couple of puffs, approached him, and stepped on his hand, grinding it. The pain jolted him out of his daze, and he screamed like a pig being slaughtered.

"Keep your hands to yourself," I flicked cigarette ash on his face, "or else I'll beat you every time I see you."

"I won't dare! I won't dare! Cough, cough, cough!" He choked on the cigarette ash, tears and mucus streaming down his face.

What a coward.

I released my foot, took out my phone, snapped a few pictures, then turned and got back into the car. I hadn't finished my cigarette yet. I sat in the car with the window open, observing as he slowly picked himself up, seeming to float away as he walked. He glanced back at the car as he moved, quickening his pace, but then 'clang,' he collided with the utility pole in front of him.

I chuckled, exhaled smoke, and scrolled through the photos on my phone. The pitiful sight of the creepy man with tears and mucus was truly nauseating. I scrolled forward, and a slender figure appeared on the screen.

I have been searching for Genevieve at school these past few days—once you set your sights on something, you naturally want to pursue it. The issue was, I found this girl quite elusive.

We attended different campuses, albeit close ones. We rarely crossed paths during classes, and during lunch hours, Genevieve always left early, shuttling between the cafeteria and the dormitory, always busy.

She didn't reside on campus either; I heard the school provided her with a room in the old residential building. After school, she vanished.

Today, I parked my car directly at the school gate before her last class dismissal, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Little did I expect her to sprint past my car.

At that moment, I might still have believed she genuinely didn't notice me or hear my honking. After all, horns don't call out names, they all sound the same. But somewhere in between, as she disembarked from the bus, she glanced in my direction.

Suddenly, I had the intuition that she knew about me—she recognized my car, knew someone was tailing her.

But she evaded me.

Intentionally.

I stared at my phone, my gaze penetrating.

I had a few blurry photos of her that I had taken. The clearest one captured her holding bags filled with takeaway food boxes, her mouth biting a meal card. Her bangs were blown up by the wind as she ran.

I've seen many beautiful girls, but never one so indifferent to her appearance.

I stubbed out my cigarette and rubbed my chin. What kind of life was this?

Looking up, the bus had long vanished. I had no intention of chasing after it anymore. If my hunch was correct, she should be heading somewhere for a part-time job.

She might not realize that a girl as beautiful as her shouldn't be living this kind of life.

That's alright, I'll make her see that there's more to life than just hardship.