TO KILL IS TO SERVE

Chapter 19: The Question of Murderer

 Two weeks have passed and I am yet half way in catching the liar in this case—Mister Kenshin Park or Alora Weller. Two weeks more to come and I can finally s*******r someone by what weapon suits them. I’d like a silenced gun directly into Alora’s head and katana slashing Mister Park’s neck. Alora’s creative mind or Mister Park’s deceiving leash? 

“What are you thinking?” I acted like surprised when a cold can of coke touched my cheek. “I thought I was the one who needs to breathe here? Why do I feel like you have something to say as well?” She chuckled and sat down beside me. She is not wearing any eyeglasses today; probably she tried using contact lenses. And those chuckles were too heavy to sound genuine.

“How was it? The dinner night yesterday?” I asked then picked up the can of coke she’s handing me. I was actually thorn between killing who. Answering the question in my head, I smiled as I wait for her answer. I was certain that this woman’s blood will splatter two weeks ago… I guess even a pro-assassin such as myself, also commits mistakes. I almost thought I am a god, though.

“Just so-so.” She replied and exhaled through her nose. “How about you? How are you?”

But I think it is extremely rude not to look at someone when you’re asking him, right? I kept my mouth closed regarding her attitude today since I know something’s up. She wouldn't call me to meet her here in this park on a Saturday morning if nothing's wrong. And according to what I've overheard because of her wrong dial yesterday night, something indeed has happened. “Why do you ask? You’re curious?” I chuckled when she elbowed me—still not looking my way after that brief glance earlier. “Just so-so.” I mimicked her reply and we stayed silent after that. “Do you like this park so much?” I talked again, asking.

Alora heaved a sigh, opening her can after a little time of sitting still. The spitting sound of her can opening broke the awkward silence and she has finally looked at me properly, even with her puffy, red-shot eyes before taking a gulp. “I am sorry for taking you out with me when it’s your day-off.” She smiled and I nodded, smiling as well. My day-off is not until two weeks. I thought with a calm face plastered. “It’s just that… I had too many glares yesterday night that despise me; I needed to see someone who feels nothing or just neutral looking at me.” She looked down at her can of drink and exhaled heavily again. She’s been exhaling too much, I lost count.

It’s obvious. I wonder why Mister Weller agreed on taking you there. It’s given that he wants you to go back to your original self by socializing with the people you’re used to, but f**k that idea when it’s clear that you’re just suffering. Hanie’s mother and stepfather, my client, were definitely there, and both of them most certainly glared at you and told you about your manners and attitude for the whole night. According to your hostile relationship with Manasseh, I bet his family stopped getting fond of you too, thinking you might be a bad influence to their son and kill him as you did to Hanie. I concluded without voicing out anything while looking intently at Alora, who’s now watching the children again. Yesterday night, my prey was everyone’s prey.

I chuckled and opened my carbonated drink after shaking my stares and thoughts off. “Alora, are you sure, though?” I leaned forward to catch her attention piercing on the kids playing on the playground or just staring blankly at the horizon. She glanced at me and rolled her eyes, thinking I was spouting nonsenses. “Are you sure, though?” My eyes are feeling maliciously blissful while seeming neutral as they look at you. Honey, they are deceptive and deadly. I hope you manage to see through things sometimes because you need that skill to survive.

“Then, fine.” And she stood up in a cold tone, about to walk out on me.

I put my can beside to where she used to sit and tugged her hand. She didn’t look at me and just sighed. I want to chuckle but it is better not to. f**k. f**k. “I was just jok—” But I stopped when I heard sobs coming from her. Her pulse is rising as well and she jerked her hand, trying to slip from my grip. I don’t know why she’s crying right now but it’s f*****g annoying. I shook my head, stopping my cruel thoughts of a woman who’s crying in front of me. I pulled her back into her seat but before that, I’ve already swiftly removed the can using my other hand. She sat back, still looking the other way. “Sorry, I was just kidding.” And provoking you, in additional. I placed her hand on my lap and leaned in to catch her eyes. “Alora, I’m sorry.” I have been saying this multiple times today, I am becoming nauseous. Girls are really fragile and emotional creatures and that make them annoying.

“No, I was just too dramatic.” She uttered, clearing her throat. Good thing you’re aware of it. I thought and stared at her with my eyes coated with lies of comfort. “It was just too much for me. I thought I’m already done with this but…” Her pulse began rising again and she kept clenching and unclenching her hands. “Grei, it sucks to be labelled as murderer.” She turned to me as she says those words, with a pitch higher than her usual one and expression lying between coldness and warmness. I have seen her ice cold, outgoing, weak, meek, aloof, weird, independent and authoritative sides, but this is the first she looked like someone I know—she looked like me when she said those words.

It was brief but I definitely saw it—the eyes that hold millions of pain and regret. I slowed my breath, in accordance to my calm heartbeat. It sucks to be labelled as murderer, you say? I didn’t ask her but myself, although the question was meant for her, rhetorically. “What do you mean?” I asked in another way impossible to connect to my current thoughts. I know I am doing a great job at calming my heartbeat and composing myself but I would definitely remember something I tried so hard to forget for seven years. This is not a good f*****g time.

Her tears stopped and her face froze, like that of a struck expression. She held her temples with her left hand and turned to me. “Grei, am I a murderer?” She asked with voice cracking depressingly while slightly panting like she's confused of herself.

I did not know what to say. The reason is not because I do not know the answer, but because I am completely losing my composure. I am—