I just keep on nuzzling Taddeio’s neck. I don’t know, but I got addicted to it. There’s something about his smell that attracts me, and at the same time, it’s comforting. We’re sitting on the couch and his arm is all over my shoulder, gently tapping it as I continue to sniff him. He’s humming too, but I do not seem to catch what the song is by just listening to the tune. I literally have no idea when we arrived at the studio because I’m stuck on what happened. I got abducted and nearly faced my death. I’m not in the right state of mind to notice where we are going and the time. I wanted to ask him how he knew where I was exactly. I am nervous about asking him about things because I know that I’m scared to hear every word that will come out of his mouth. It scares me to think that it will be happening again soon.“Taddeio,” I call him.He answered me with a hum and looked straight into my eyes.These eyes... they seem to be longing for something I can't place. It’s powerful and beautif
"Hello?"I was taken aback when I heard it again. That icy voice sends shivers down my spine every single time my ears catch the sound. It is my father."Hello?" He said it twice. I still vividly remember that before, when I was in middle school, it stopped at one, and he would end the call and never answer it again."P-pa…" A long silence is witnessed after that. No one dared to speak, and it’s starting to get awkward and threatening. One thing that my papa did when he was mad was to remain silent and never utter a word. I’m certain that he’s still mad at me.I cleared my throat first and then started talking again."Pa, how are you?""Why did you call?" I thought he wasn’t going to answer me. I feel somehow relieved that he’s still talking to me.It took minutes before I answered him."I have something to ask, Pa.""Ask about what? I thought you’d be independent as you have the balls to run away from this house without consulting me first." "Pa..." It's almost a whisper, and I bet
I gasped when I saw a bag of blood inside of the Styrofoam. I’m feeling nauseous and I don’t think I can accept the upcoming surprises that it can provide. It smells awful that it is circulating all around the room. With the small amount of courage left, I picked up a small note behind the packet. It had been smudged with blood. My left hand made a move, and it directly covered my mouth when I read the note. It’s not that much, but when you’ve been kidnapped once and someone tried to deplete your existence. You will understand me. What did I do to deserve this? Having someone threatening your life makes you think twice about whether to believe it or disregard the idea that someone has given you a death threat.“You will not last. You will not escape this hell. And if you will, I will exert my abilities to find you, even in the deepest part of the underground. Hide Merchaiass. As you will always do.” It was written in blood. I tried to scrutinize the sides and back of the note, but th
Three days have passed, but I still don’t know where Jacques is. He’s too hard to find and even though I contacted his sister who I found on Facegram, she doesn’t have any idea about the whereabouts of Jacques. I am in my room, facing my laptop while having dinner. I bought my dinner, which is a bowl with rice and side dishes, at the convenience store near the studio. On my third bite, something chimes. It’s a notification from my Facegram, a friend request to be precise. I didn't know the guy as well as his name, so I disregarded it and continued eating when my Facegram inbox flooded with messages. Who the hell is this guy? I opened the messages, and I was startled when he introduced himself as Jacques. Even though I don’t remember his face, I took the risk and talked to him.Jacques Joliggo:*Cai! I haven’t heard from you for the last two years.What happened?I heard you got into an accident.And you were in a state of coma after that.Do you remember me?I heard from my sister tha
It’s near 6 pm and I can’t sit still knowing that I will now have answers to clarify what’s going on in my life. I was fidgeting while listening to my last class, which was all about the contemporary world. It was boring, and I was trying to listen attentively to my professor, but the way he teaches is not the way I want, and plus, my mind was traveling somewhere. It continued for God knows how many minutes and the only clear thing that I heard was our dismissal. I hurriedly fixed my books, put them inside my bag, and ran to the convenience store. I was catching my breath when I arrived and immediately checked my Facegram inbox to see if Jacques had any new messages, and apparently there weren’t any. I entered the store and bought myself a drink before sitting outside. It’s for the better as I can see people going in and out of this particular place. I took out my phone and called Jacques to see where he was because it was getting late.Merchaiass Maquerio:*Where are you?I’m right o
After that meeting with Jacques, I became aware that I was not okay. I don’t know what to believe anymore. Myself? Or Jacques’ word? When I came back to the studio, what we had talked about flashed in my mind. It’s like a projector that has a broken remote button because it has been repeated as long as my mind is awake. I tried closing my eyes in the hope that it’d stop. I’m tired. I’m tired of everything. I wish I could travel back in time or control the time machine so that I could rewind and redo what I’ve done in the past. I feel like I've been punished for what I’ve done. Above all, why do I have this feeling that all of Jacques’ words are baseless? I mean, I nearly took his words as my truth, but I realized that it should not be. My truth is my truth. But what if I didn’t remember my truth? Would another person’s truth be considered my truth? I don’t know. I badly need a rest. In that case, I tried to relax my mind and think of happy moments to ease the tension building.“Jacque
I was woken up by a voice calling my name and telling me that I was crazy. I opened my eyes and there it was, no one in front of me. I thought it was real. I believe it was. I slowly put my arms down and looked at the person beside me. It’s my first time seeing him. He showed his smile while shaking his head in disbelief. I’m certain that he thinks I’m mentally ill. Well, I don’t care. It’s not something that’s believable. I finished my bathroom routine and looked at the guy first before going out of the shared bathroom. I could feel his glances behind my back. I continued walking as if I hadn’t done any embarrassing acts in front of a stranger. It was my first time seeing him, and I think we’re about the same age, judging by his physique. My head’s twitching when a thought crosses my mind. It was about the guy who I met in the bathroom. He seems familiar, and I’ve seen him before. I’m not sure where, but I know that I saw those eyes before. I shrugged off the thought and immediately
I saw Jacques leaving the coffee shop. He looks like he’s scared and someone is threatening him. I need to find out about it. I didn’t finish my coffee and left it hanging on the table. I rushed down the alley to see where Jacques went, and thankfully, I still have a visual of him. Relax, Merchaiass. You are now one step ahead of your plan. I have followed him quietly for some time now, and he has a lot of destinations to stop at. We’ve arrived at a place where the squatters are currently residing. He stopped again, for the ninth time, in a house painted green and entered. He lasted for a few minutes before he went out of the house with different clothing and a sling bag on his shoulder. Where is he going? I can tell that he took a bath too, as his hair is damp. I don’t know if I should continue following him as the other side of my brain says to stop and go back, but the other says different. I watched him take a big step, and it seemed like he was in a hurry. I decided to trust my g