CHAPTER 5 : THE LIFE WE LIVE
1051 Words
~ Westbrook Pigstand club ~
( 8pm )
Eliza finished three full glasses within five minutes. She poured herself another.
"Hey, take it easy. You can get drunk," Belle said, pulling the wine glass from Eliza's grip.
"Just one last glass. For the toast — you know, the mission," Eliza said, pouting.
"Okay, just one," Belle said, handing the wine back to her.
Eliza poured herself a full glass and raised it high above her head.
"Let's make a toast," she said. Belle raised her glass too. She had to pull her hand down so their glasses could meet.
Eliza gulped the entire wine in a blink.
"Easy, girl!" Belle shouted. The music volume suddenly spiked, and they had to yell to hear each other.
"How much was it?" Eliza asked.
"What?" Belle asked, lost.
"Yesterday... the money," Eliza said, her voice dry. Her eyes looked sleepy.
"Twenty-six million." Belle paused. "Why do you ask?"
"You saw the woman who collapsed at the bank, right?" Eliza asked.
"Yes, I did."
"Looked like she had a heart attack."
Belle stared at her, expression unreadable. She heard her. She just didn’t understand why Eliza was bringing it up now.
"So are you proud of this?" Eliza asked again, eyes fixed on her empty glass.
"Proud of what?" Belle asked, confused.
"The life we live."
"Not like we have a choice, Eliza. We have to," Belle said, bowing her head like she was ashamed. Maybe she was.
"Can't we live like ordinary people?" Eliza paused, searching for the words.
"You know... get a decent job, walk around freely. Without any mask. Without running and hiding," she said, pouting.
"You know why we have to do this. We must get that money. We need it," Belle said, trying to make her feel better.
"Can't we work to get that money?" Eliza asked, staring into Belle’s eyes. That’s when Belle realized Eliza was drunk.
"How much can we earn to pay off our debt, and to take care of ourselves?" Belle asked, her tone now soft.
"It doesn't matter. It only takes time," Eliza said, eyes teary.
"That’s what you don’t get. We have limited time. How many years will we work to get that amount of money?" Belle asked, her face serious — like Eliza’s words had scratched an old wound.
"So we must hurt others and take away all they have?" Eliza asked, tears running down her cheeks. Belle was surprised. Why the sudden sobriety? They were having a good time.
"For the sake of our freedom," Belle said, eyes almost teary.
"So we take away people's joy," Eliza whispered, eyes filled with buried pain.
Belle was speechless. But Eliza kept going. Tears were flowing, yet she spoke.
"If Mrs. Reeds was robbed... her entire shop. The one she struggled to stock up. And within a few minutes, everything is gone..."
Eliza didn’t finish. Belle’s broken voice cut her off.
"Enough! Enough, Eliza!" she yelled. Her heart ached just imagining her mother in that predicament.
"You see how it is? I really feel—"
"No! I’m not listening to this anymore," Belle cut in, wiping her face and pulling herself together.
"Let's go," she said, serious now.
"Where?" Eliza asked, eyes dizzy.
"We're leaving," Belle said sharply, grabbing her purse.
She stood and called Victoria.
"Vicky, tell the boys to get to the parking lot now."
"Why are we leaving this early?" Vicky asked.
"Just let them know," Belle said, ending the call.
She grabbed Eliza's arm and pulled her to her feet.
"Put yourself together. Caleb will be fuming if he finds out you're drunk."
Outside the club, the boys were waiting. They appeared at the entrance — Belle dragging Eliza by the hand. She looked dizzy.
"What happened to her?" Marco asked, staring at Eliza.
"She got drunk," Belle replied, looking unbothered.
"What!?" Damien was astonished. The others looked at her in disbelief.
"What do you think Caleb will say?" Marco asked, dead serious.
"I don't know, okay," Belle said, getting into the van.
"You should have thought of that before!" Damien yelled.
"Not like I forced it down her throat!" she yelled back.
They all knew how Caleb acted when something went wrong with his sister. They didn’t know how to face him. Marco had promised to take care of her, and now he was worried.
"Guys, this is not necessary. What do we tell Caleb?" Vicky asked, trying to steer things to safer ground.
"I honestly don't know," Marco said, ruffling his hair, trying to come up with a solution.
"You know what? Let's just go. Who knows, maybe he's not home yet," Julien said.
"Yes. We haven't been out for long. We might get home before him," Vicky added.
"So we hide her from him," Damien said, smiling like that wasn’t exactly what they meant.
"Exactly," Julien said, so he’d feel heard too.
"Okay, I guess that’s our only option," Marco said, sliding into the driver's seat.
"You wanna drive?" Julien asked.
"Yeah. You look drunk yourself," Marco answered, snatching the car keys from him.
"No, I'm not," Julien sneered.
"Of course you are. You had five bottles," Damien said.
"Shut up!" Julien snapped.
"We don't want to die," Damien teased.
Julien smacked his head. "Ouch! That hurts."
"Get her in. We're leaving," Marco said. Belle was already in the car, acting unperturbed, staring out the window. Vicky and Damien helped Eliza into the van. She was leaning on the car the entire time.
They drove home in silence. About an hour. Eliza dozed off in the car, looking innocent in that vulnerable state.
Soon they reached home. The atmosphere was suddenly tense. The rusted grey gate stood at the entrance. They parked outside. The compound was clear. The dim light on the porch was still on. Maybe Caleb wasn’t in.
They got through the squeaky gate. Damien and Vicky were still holding Eliza. They walked in slowly. One step at a time. Their own home had suddenly become uncomfortable. The air was cold, but some of them were sweating.
As they drew closer to the porch, the tension soared. Eventually, they got there, standing quietly. No one wanted to open the door.
The door felt heavy with anticipation for what was about to be revealed inside.
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- Writer
