I walked inside an office with desks separated by opaque window glass panes. Each desk has a set of computer paraphernalia. The room fit perfectly as a computer laboratory except for the standard black telephone beside the keyboard where you can see the number of the caller if it rings. You can hear ringing everywhere and everyone seemed busy. Pretty normal day, or so I thought.
I went straight to the upper rightmost desk and put my backpack underneath the table. As soon as I pressed a few keys to log in, as usual, a call came up immediately. I answered it through the phone panel on my computer.
"Hello! Thank you for calling—"
"Don't trust anyone," a familiar but stern voice said, interrupting my opening script.
"I think you got the wrong number—"
"Just don't" she said coldly and then she hung up.
I shift uncomfortably on my chair and thought it was just a prank call but my mind was actually confused whether to believe what I was thinking.
I was about to leave my desk to go to the comfort room when the telephone rang again. I picked up the call first only to hear an automated voice like a robot's.
"If you still want to live, stop whatever you're doing and go directly to the storage room and lock the door. Do not call the police. Do not sound the alarm. Stay put until we tell you to move," it says.
Everybody seemed to receive the same call because they started going to the storage room as said by the caller. Panic and shock painted their faces but they still followed.
"Maybe it's a prank call?" someone shouted.
No one bothered to care. If your life is threatened and a dozen of people received the same threat, what would you do?
'Do not trust anyone', the first caller said. So I did. I ignored him and my urge to pee and cramped myself into the storage room. There was an awkward silence. Everyone was too scared to even talk. Not until someone suggested, "Why don't we make a run through the fire exit? Besides, it's only three floors down and we're free again."
I think it is a good idea to move than wait for your death. No one seemed to hear anything so I volunteered to speak.
"Fire exit is the easiest and most obvious escape if you're in a panic. I say we go down through the car park," I said, sounding mighty and brave. I believed what I said but apart from that, I don't trust him. He might be leading us into a booby trap.
"Why don't we split up, then?" he sounded irritated like he just lost in a competition.
...
Continued on the comment section.
She was immaculate; she was beautiful. A lady of everything, a package in full
Her eyes were true, her lips were real. She was someone whose looks could kill.
She was admired; she was loved. As if she were a saint or a god
So people come to her and pray for food; And she became their prey to loot.
She thinks of herself unclean, a rotten trash A lady of nothing, a discovered stash
Her eyes that cry, her lips that lie She was someone who wants to die.
She was feared; she was hated. As if she were a demon that is aberrated
She bears the weight of an unbearable cross From an unwilling and forced intercourse.
She cried but she was unheard. She prayed but it never worked.
They said she was at fault; For how she behave and the way she clothe.
She was the victim in the crime; But she was blamed for tarnishing her prime.
She was a sinner who did not sin; Whom they said who brought herself in.
And now she stands alone in a den; A woman living in a world only for men.
What was once a gift turned into horror when things became much worse than before.
"Do not think about it too much," Fernand said firmly while searching for twigs that would help build the fire up he was making. "It's not as if you can do something about it."
"Well, maybe because I can," I snapped. "But I just don't know how.. yet," I said, my voice cracking and slowly fading with every word.
"See, that's what I'm saying. If you can't think of a solution yet, save it for another day. You'll go crazy any minute now if you stay like that. Besides, you need to rest. We need to go before sunrise."
"Sure, I'm already crazy anyway. Why would we run away, in the first place, if I'm not?"
It has been almost a week since we left the tribe. Our home. Fernand is a close friend whom I caught up with. Honestly, I can't remember how we ended up together. It should have been only me whom they are after. It's my fault anyway. It was my mistake to trust this superficial, unknown-to-the-universe magical power or whatnot.
"Monica," Fernand spoke of my name calmly as he placed both hands on my arms. It was tight and his hands were heavy but I did not complain. I suddenly felt safe and secured. "You'll get this over with. Trust me. I'm with you, remember?"
My face got warmer as if steam were going round my body instead of blood. I hope I'm wrong that colors began to fill my cheeks. "Thank you, Fernand. I mean it. You know, I probably won't be here right now if you're not with me. So, me being alive right now is all thanks to you," were all the words that were swarming around my head but a "Yeah, sure," was all I can muster.
Fernand removed his grip and walked the other way but he stopped abruptly. He turned towards me and gave me a straight face.
Not good.
I noticed small bright orange flickers and moving dark figures where Fernand was looking. Not so long, I heard shouts of a "Bitch" or a "Witch" or maybe both and realized that a swarm of villagers carrying long torches were coming our way. And I knew they were calling me.
Images flashed my head of people with bodies contorted into weird positions I can't make out. Children with white liquid and bubbles gurgling over their mouths. Men and women alike with bloated stomachs and open wounds. I crouched and tried to shake off the images out my head. My vision became blurry and tears flowed endlessly. For some reason, they became like that because of me. I did that.
Fernand crouched beside me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.
"Come on. Save your tears for later. We need to run."
