TO KILL IS TO SERVE

Chapter 11: The Phone Call

It’s vibrating. I thought and got my work phone out of the bag—but it wasn’t this one. I picked up the other real vibrating phone with only one contact on the contact list… and she is calling me this late night. “Hello?” I spoke right after I answered the phone.

So this day couldn’t get any worse, right? Really, right? I asked myself while waiting for Alora to answer.

“Where you?”

“Why don’t you complete your sentence first, you lazy kid?” I sighed and continued walking, leaving the unconscious Damian behind. I am so tired of everything and yet I have to deal with this woman, now. Who in the f*****g world knows that I would meet Damian here? And he will pick a fight with my unhappy assassin self? No one.

“Just answer me and stop complaining.”

“And why are you ordering me around? Are we even friends?”

“Okay, that makes sense. I’ll end—”

“I was kidding.” I replied before she could end the call. Based on her straightforward attitude, she’ll definitely end the call right away. “I’m outside my condo, why?” I lied about my location as I walk back to my condo.

“Can you talk to me for a bit, then?”

“Of course but what’s up? It’s already 12AM, why aren’t you sleeping yet?”

“Hearing that from someone who’s outside his condo feels like a joke.” That was her always rude and insensitive phrases, but this time, it seems like she’s teasing me.

“Rude.” I muttered and she chuckled. I saw a local drug store after some time and decided to stop by to buy some band aid to cover up the bruises for I cannot enter the condo building with a face like this and I also cannot spend a night in my hideout. They would think that I got into a fight—which is never true. I do not get into fights; I control the fights. And spending a night on my hideout will cause suspicion I don’t want and need. “So, what’s up?”

“I’m painting right now.” She answered.

I can hear that. I wanted to blabber out but better not to. I can really hear the brush brushing against a canvas, mixing of colors in a palette and her humming while thinking of next thing to put. I can hear her passion through her painting like I’m some kind of synesthetes

“Hello?”

“Sorry, the signal’s a bit fuzzy here.”

Alora laughed without a context. She told me lighthearted stories I would never want to hear on a normal daily basis but it is better like this than to end the call.

“Did you know that I hate to draw hands?”

“No. Why?”

“I just do! I mean, hands are beautiful but mine aren’t. Seriously.”

“That’s your reason?” I chuckled and extended my left hand upfront to observe. “Mine looks manly.” I confidently uttered.

“Mine as well.”

We stayed silent until I broke into laughter. For f*****g real. I inserted my hand back to my pocket as I calmed down. “Probably because you’re painting too much?”

“No. I got this from mom. Her hands are very unfeminine as well.”

So you don’t f*****g got that from your father? “I see.” But I did not say what of my thoughts out loud and just agreed.

We continued talking about random stuff. She described her painting without me asking. It’s been a while since I had a phone call without talking about clients, meetings and whatsoever.

I lived and am living a life of blood and assassination, what should I expect? I unintentionally scoffed at my thoughts and Alora gasped on the other line.

“Why, what’s up?” Did I just say my thoughts out loud? I pursed my lips as I wait for her response. I wouldn't want to resort to this but if I just did, I need to kill her right now.

“I was confused when you jeered and accidentally mixed green and pink, instead of white and green.”

I chuckled on her complaints and also because I know I was just about to kill her earlier. “What color is it now, then?”

“Ugly.”

“That’s not a f*****g color!”

“But it’s ugly!”

I wouldn’t think and it never crossed my mind that I would hear Alora calling a color, ugly. “Fine, I’ll search it myself.” I went ahead and put the call into speaker mode and searched for the said mixture of color green and pink. It’s… “It’s ugly.” I muttered as soon as I saw a color seemed to be unidentifiable to my eyes. “It’s like grayish or brownish. Either way, it’s a no for me.”

“There, fixed it.” Alora said on the other line and I heard a stirring of water. She's probably cleaning her brush in a cup. I put back the call into handset. “I added some more pink and used it as whatever.”

“What the hell?”

“I can’t describe it well, you know.”

I ended up cackling helplessly since I couldn’t ask her to describe it and I don’t see the reason for her to describe it. It just won't make sense; so okay, no need to do description and shits.

Alora was talking to me all night while I was walking home from the asylum. She made me forget about how upset I was earlier at the tribute and how brutal I was to that goddamn Damian. She calmed me down until I reached my condo.

“It was suddenly quiet.”

“I’m inside now.” 

I’ve been walking for almost two hours. The first hour was where I met Damian and almost killed him out of anger—not at him but at Dad, probably—okay, but also at his petty fight-picking, and another hour was until I’ve reached my condominium building whilst on the phone. I’ve planned on resting for a while in my hideout but since I was talking to Alora, it unexpectedly slipped my mind. I am sure I was actually thinking of going back to my condo right away earlier.

“So, are you going to attend class tomorrow?”

“Probably. My father wouldn’t let me stay at home. He said that he paid for my art workshop, so it doesn’t make sense if I won’t go.”

No, honey. He wants you to stay out of your house as long as possible for your own safety as well. As a police, he’s doubtlessly getting all the threats, together with ones with your name and picture in them. He’s getting them all and he’s afraid that you might encounter one of the senders inside your residence without him around. That’s why he’s wary when he saw me intruding your house before.

“I’ll be coming too, then.”

“Why am I the basis of your attendance?”

“You’re the only real artist in that class, Alora.”

“You’re so mean! How about Manasseh?”

She’s becoming more and more comfortable with reacting and talking to me. This is all because of my hard work—I’ve spent a week trying to get her attention. This is the reward I f*****g deserve—or is this a f*****g curse? Again, I’ve spent a week and I only got her attention, and only a minimum of it, if I may add. What a slow pace.

“Do you usually talk to someone when you paint?” I asked and threw my bag on the bed. f**k. I should’ve headed to the hideout first. I groaned silently as I remember that my gun, knives and mask were still in my bag. I need to hide this well for I won’t be going to the hideout for a while. I don’t have any plans to catch misgiving from people around me.

“Nah.” She replied. “I just want to tell you something. So I called.”

And now I remembered that I was talking to Alora. “Tell me what, then?” I asked and bit my lower lip. I also recalled Info saying that I’ve been speaking my mind out lately; did I just do it now? But Alora seemed to not hear anything, so maybe I did not?

“Wait, no. Not actually tell you something, but I want to talk about it while I can.” She emphasized the you.

“I see. What is it about?”

“I am painting Manasseh and Hanie.”

My eyes widened and I smirked. That’s definitely uncalled for but interesting. I sat down properly to hear her well. “I am listening.” I uttered.

I heard her sigh gently, “I’ve been friends with Hanie since grade school and Manasseh since high school. Manasseh was the typical cold-guy-next-door and Hanie was the cutest sweetheart and the most terrifying genius. They were my only friends and I wouldn’t ask for more. I was happy to be part of their group.”

Stuttering and sighing too much. I can notice her brushing became a bit soft, as well as her voice.

“I see. So you’re friends with Manasseh.”

“I was.” She replied right away. I didn’t ask the reason and waited for her to speak again. I don’t think the reason of their splitting friendship is necessary. “So, should I change ‘I have been friends with them’ to ‘I was their friend’, or something?”

“You do you. I will be listening.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m just suddenly nostalgic of the past, so I decided to paint them both.” She paused for a while, with soft sad hums are escaping her mouth. “Sorry, I’m blabbering randomly.”

If you kill a friend, you wouldn’t sound so devastated, even though it is a product of guilt. She sounds like she is genuinely missing the feeling and not feeling guilty of killing Hanie, if what Mister Park said was true. If Alora killed Hanie, how could she unsympathetically mention her name, thrice even?

“Hello?”

“Sorry. I was used to listening without responding much. Go on, continue.”

She must’ve taken this in for a long time that she feels uneasy opening this up and being unheard. I want to ask her how could she tell me this now but I rather listen than ask anything. This is a f*****g great step and I won’t ask for more for the mean time.

“You see, Hanie is dead now…” Her voice cracked and I hear no more brush stroking a canvas. “She died a year ago. It was… quite…”

“You sound as if you killed her.” I butted in as I hear her stutter. That was a wild yet on point provocation. She sounded cautious so I won’t dig deeper. I am more cautious, girl. “If you weren’t ready to talk about it, then don’t. You shouldn’t force yourself and just enjoy painting.” I am so f*****g curious to hell but I want to find out everything myself. This is my pride. I smirked while thinking of how prideful an assassin could be and I couldn’t just comprehend. And this is the f*****g reason why am I going so slow in this investigation as well.

Alora stayed silent for a while. The sound of a brush touching a canvas was all gone. I checked the phone if the call was dropped; but there is no interruption in this hour-long call. I stayed silent and waited. My insides are getting tingly and excited to hear anything—this is the well-known bloodlust. I pursed my lips as I patiently wait. Patiently. Patiently. f*****g patiently.

After a moment, I heard a deep exhale from the other line. Alora with a soft gulp, uttered in the lowest voice she thought would prevent me from hearing her, “I killed her, Grei.”

What the f**k?