Beneath the Burking name

Chapter Five - love

I sat there, phone pressed to my ear, staring at the city below. My pulse thudded in my chest.

Maybe it was curiosity. Perhaps it was guilt. But something deep inside me whispered that this wasn’t over, that last night hadn’t been a random accident.

By the time I got home that evening, the house was quieter than usual. My father’s car was gone. My mother’s lights were off.

I stood in the grand hallway again, staring up at the chandelier. Everything was in place, everything was perfect, yet polished and lifeless.

And yet, something felt… wrong and different.

The note she’d left me that morning was still in my pocket. You were safe here. Don’t worry.

Safe. The word rang in my head like a spell from another world.

I climbed the stairs slowly, taking every step heavily.

In the distance, thunder rumbled suddenly.

And deep down, I knew in my heart that the calm that had settled over my life since that night was only temporary.

Something was coming.

Something tied to her.

And it was about to change everything the Burking name stood for.

There was a soft knock on my door, and as usual, I realized it was my mom. She wore a silk straight dress with hints of tiny, shiny pearls. “Son, where is your white car ?” She asked. I immediately realized that I had left it at the parking lot the last night after I went clubbing. I sighed and told my mom I was going to get it later in the week, but she didn’t have it at all. “You know, your dad hasn’t noticed it yet, so I think it’s best you go ahead and get it now,” she said sternly, without breaking a smile. She walked out of my room shortly after, and I went ahead to get the car.

I first decided to go to the hotel and ask for more information, since the number she called me from was a pay phone number, and I couldn’t reach her back. When I arrived, I asked the receptionist for the key to the same room. She didn’t hesitate, and she handed the keys over to me swiftly. I went into the room and stood at the window as usual. The morning air was really sharp, the kind that could cut through a hangover but not through the fog in my mind. I stood inside the same hotel where I’d woken up days ago, the glass façade glinting in the sunlight like nothing unusual had ever happened inside.

But for me, the place was a memory to behold; it was a silent witness to something I couldn’t quite name. Something I could feel in my soul was that it was going to change my life forever. When I came down from the room, a new receptionist had taken over. I recognized her from the morning after the night I had slept over. The receptionist equally recognized me instantly. “Good morning, sir,” she said politely. “How may I help you?”

“I was here two nights ago, and I know you remember me,” I said, while leaning on the counter. “I’d still like to find out who booked the room I was in. She paid cash, but… maybe she left some detail. A number. Anything.”

Her smile softened into something almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burking. We don’t have permission to share guest information. It’s against hotel policy.”

“Please,” I said, lowering my voice. “It’s important.”

Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard. “It’s not like I don’t want to help you, but sir… there’s nothing. She checked out early. No record beyond a cash payment.”

My heart skipped a beat. “So there’s Nothing at all?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, sir .”

I nodded slowly, stepping back. My reflection stared at me from the polished counter, with hopeful eyes and frustration written across every line of my face.

“Thank you,” I murmured, though the words tasted and felt bitter.

The next thing was to get my car from the parking lot.

The parking lot shimmered in the afternoon sun. I spotted my car exactly where I had left it; it was spotless, cold, and lifeless. I unlocked it and slid into the driver's seat, bringing back memories of my encounter again. Once in, I sat down, holding on to the wheel and staring up ahead of me while thinking out loud.

The silence within the car felt very heavy.

Why does she matter so much to me? I couldn’t explain it, even to myself. I barely knew her name. I didn’t know her story. But the memory of her voice, calm and trembling at once, had rooted itself somewhere deep inside me. Maybe it wasn’t her; perhaps it was the moment we shared, the fact that she showed me something I hadn’t felt or received in a very long period of time.

The way she showed concern and care when I was at my lowest, how she stood by me and made sure I felt okay. She saw a side of me and didn’t feel disgusted or pissed, but rather sympathy. She wasn’t even afraid that I would hurt her. Wow.

But now she did run from me, after showing me such kindness and getting into my head. She ran from me. But why? I asked myself, and all my efforts to find her have proven futile. But I won’t give up. I know I’ll see her one day. Just not now perhaps.

The thought of going back home blurred out my little happy-sad moment. I just imagined how my dad will act again the moment he sets his eyes on me when I get home, he’ll, as usual, think I went to sleep with another woman. I kept thinking as I drove home, hoping not to run into my dad again.