Chapter 3 – It Was Him
1083 Words
Chapter 3 – It Was Him
* * *
I made it to my house without much ruckus.
Nobody will be able to say how lucky I was after escaping that mess. If not for the awakening sound that I heard, I’m sure that I had already fallen into the predatory hands of that disgusting molester.
Flop.
My body fell to the ground as I started to digest the severity of what happened to me. Strength escaped from my knees and legs as fatigue coupled with fear dawned on my body.
I wanted to cry, to at least exhaust all the emotions bottled inside me, but no tears came out of my eyes.
Hopelessness. It was not a foreign emotion that I had never heard of. Two years ago, when I was still a mere student who could only live with my parents' support, was the same year that I abandoned that word.
I was able to escape the hands of those people, yet here I am sitting on the ground of my tiny apartment while feeling the same type of emotion that I had two years ago.
Nothing had changed. I was still the same pitiful brat who couldn’t defend herself from her predators.
Thinking about the past might have been a senseless thing, but my mind can’t help to indulge in such foolishness. Being alone has its merits, and, of course, it comes with its own demerits as well.
One of those disadvantages is what I am suffering from now. I have no one to comfort me or even listen to the stories that I have experienced.
I need to stand on my own and get over this to be able to continue my normal life.
And so, like how I surpassed all the disappointments of my life, I stood from the ground and walked over to my cabinet.
It was pretty big compared to the personal stuff that I have. Anyone who could see this will definitely say that I’m wasting a lot of space by keeping something unnecessary.
However, the right portion of this cabinet is serving as my one and only emotional support.
*Screech*
An almost ominous sound could be heard inside my room as I opened the wooden cabinet. There is not a single piece of clothing or hanger awaiting my eyes, but just a vacant dark space that houses nothing.
I stepped inside that space and let my body occupy that forbidden space.
I fit right in without any trouble, and before my eyes were able to adjust to the lack of light in this cabinet, my hands swiftly closed the wooden plank bringing in nothing but utter darkness.
Sublime and comforting. Some people might find this questionable, but a tight space with nothing in it has always been my source of comfort.
I was once trapped by my half-sister inside an old cabinet when we were young.
She is waiting for me to shriek and beg for help, but my silence pissed the hell out of her. After all, what I found inside that empty cabinet is not fear but solace.
Their hands wouldn’t be able to reach me in this space.
I could cry and wail all I wanted, and no one would be able to criticize me. Cursing them at the top of my lungs will never be a problem either.
A space filled with nothing, but my sorrow is the kind of value this cabinet has.
As expected, the emotions bottled inside me after that incident came rushing down after I felt the familiarity of this place. Snot, tears, and sweat combined escaped out of my body together with all the negative emotions that I had.
This is my space and I control everything that this place has to offer, no matter how cramped it is.
And as I wake up tomorrow morning, I’m sure that none of those horrible thoughts will still be lurking inside my mind.
* * *
“A man was found dead in the dumpster this morning by a …”
Water started to spill from the pitcher to the glass. It was dark and my mind was not that clear due to the tension, but I’m sure that it was that man.
I remembered every detail of his face. My brain can still recall how he smelled and how his rough hands felt disgusting to touch.
And yet, here I am standing in front of the television while listening to his death. It was impossible. He could not have died just because I bit his tongue.
Did I turn into a murderer over the night?
All I wanted was to escape his grasp and defend myself. How could things end with this just because of the only hope that I used to save myself?
“… He was strangled to death and found with multiple wounds. It was said the weapon used was a normal ballpen.”
It was improper, but I smiled at the reason for my assailant’s death. At least it wasn’t me who dealt the finishing blow to him. I was not his murderer.
That fact is more than enough reason for me to breathe a sigh of relief. No matter what the reason is, as long as my existence has nothing to do with his death, then I can continue my life as is.
Some might call me a cold-blooded b***h, but that was the extent of it. That man deserved it, and it might have been his karma that he encountered a bloody killer on his way.
It was his fault, to begin with, and I just so happen to be one of the last people that he came across before his death.
Wherever he is in hell, all I can say now is that he deserved that ending more than anything else. He should’ve been happy that he would not experience the embarrassment of being reported as a molester.
Moving forward is the only choice that I have as I turned off the television. That man can’t rule my life just because of a chance encounter.
However, my mind came to a stop when I remembered the saving point of my life.
That “thud” and the sound that I heard when I was escaping from him were obviously out of the picture.
Someone else is in that place.
And whoever that man is, I’m sure that he played a bigger role than none of us could ever imagine.
- Writer
