"Are you f*****g serious?" I grabbed my apron off my body. I rushed to the kitchen, grabbed my bag, and bolted off. If they really mean what they said, Mom is in trouble. I still don't get it but my gut is telling me to go to her.
I remember her first nights when she would cry and struggle in her sleep. I thought maybe it was trauma because of what she had been through with my father's beatings but it never occurred to me what it might be. Mom had been staring out of nowhere sometimes, mumbling to herself things like 'I don't want to go, 'let me go, and such. My father had been so abusive, I really thought it was because of that. But now, I'm not sure.
I reached my apartment after a fifteen-minute run. I was exhausted and out of breath. My knees felt like jelly and my lungs felt like they were being compressed. But nonetheless, I ran five flights of stairs until I reached my door.
It was unlocked and unlatched. s**t.
"Mom!" I rushed inside, opening the door wide. My house is dark and only the light from the outside enlightens the small, tight box.
It was a mess. My center table was turned upside down and the chairs stand sideways. The mini fridge was on the ground with the things inside scattered. The drawers and cabinets were a mess too. My bed lifted up and rested on the wall. In its place is a pool of blood. My tummy turned and I felt my lunch on my throat, ready to explode because of the scene. There is also a trail of blood which I didn't notice before, from the bedroom to the outside.
Double s**t.
I ran outside and looked from left to right and vice versa, looking for any signs where they are. But instead, I found a note on the ground. It's an address and a p.s on the end saying: "Come home."
Filled with worry, I grabbed a handful of my clothes and the money I had saved. I hailed a taxi and gave the driver the note.
"To the hotel, Mam?" Hotel?
"Yes. Whatever, just go."The taxi bolted off.
Hotel? Why? I fished for my phone and then typed the address and yes, it is a hotel. One of the 5-star hotels in the country. Why there? Who sent the note? What the hell is 'come home? What the f**k is happening? I don't have the slightest idea.
My mind spins back to my life before I ran away.
My mom was a mess, and I can tell that she still is. She would often cry in a corner, numb and violet from the beatings of my father. If not, she'll be lost in her own world using drugs. I technically raised my brother, but not before my father sold him. He was small with deep brown hair, much darker than mine, and a lot straighter compared to my loose waves. He's quiet and sticks to me all the time. He would always cry when he saw mom and me being beaten but kept it silent or he would be next like I thought him.
I do wish I could see him again.
It was a two-hour drive. I was dozing off when the driver called out to me.
"Miss, we're here." I paid him, almost giving him my savings. But my gloomy emotions is cut-short because they turned to awe when I saw where I was standing.
I am in front of a luxurious building. Lights were everywhere, it was almost blinding. People came out of rich cars wearing lavish clothes and jewelry. The status of people is very evident here. People from high-class standings are served by people who always keep their heads down and greet them like they were gods. A mistake would be chastised, making them lower their heads even more.
I suddenly became aware of what I'm wearing. I have a varsity jacket, a white dirty shirt, and ripped jeans. And I'm still wearing my clogs from work. I wonder if they would let me in.
But I need to find my mother.
I walked to the entrance. The outside we're blinding, but the lobby is majestic. Overly splendid. My mouth was still in an O shape when I reached the front desk.
The clerk in front of me wears her shiny black hair in a bun. Her lips are red, as well as her cheeks. She has a big smile on her face as she looks my way.
"Good evening, Ms. Rivera. Here is your card."
She might have caught my puzzled look and asked, "You are Ms. Leilah Rivera, right?"
"Yes. No. I mean, yes, I am. How do you know my name?" She breathed relief but only smiled at me. She didn't answer my question but instead, rang a bell and a bell boy came over to me.
"This way, Mam." I was taken away from the counter by a tall, dark man with a heavy accent. He leads me to the elevator.
"Press Lower Ground, then scan your identification card on the scanner." He instructed, smiled then turned his back on me.
My gut tells me to run to the door and never look back. To save me from the dangers I might face, because I certainly feel danger in all of this. But I got on the elevator, pressed the LG button, scanned my card, and waited for my doom.
I felt the elevator move down. It passed the upper ground, then the lower ground, but it just kept going down. I admit I am confused. Where this metal box taking me is beyond my real reason. Am I going underground?
After a few seconds, the door opened.
Outside, there are two men wearing the same black suit from earlier. No matter how much I want to force them for answers to my unending questions, I dare not make a scene.
Passing these two guys is a very dark place. It looks like a very private, exclusive, and high-end bar. People look evilly rich. Everyone wears luxurious clothes in black or red. It is stanching with smoke and alcohol, and expensive heavy perfumes. The lights are low, mostly on the floor, giving dark shades to everyone's faces. Whispers and shouts mixing with lusty talks and inappropriate hand movements around me almost make me feel dizzy.
As I walk towards nowhere, trying to make out my destination's probability, I try to avoid bumping into anyone. Looking around, I found red doors at the far end with heavy men guarding each door. My gut is telling me to head that way. But I can feel someone staring at my back.
As I turned my head around, my gaze went directly straight to dark piercing eyes. A man. Wearing a tuxedo hung loose on the red polo with 4 buttons open. His arms are spread across the couch he is sitting at, embracing two women almost wearing nothing. His left leg is on top of his right knee, his back casually leaning on the sofa's back. As the girls' hands travel across his body, he stares at my soul.
I felt like drowning, Melting.
"Leilah Rivera." The call to me brought me back to where I am standing.
Standing in front of me is one of those goons back at the diner. He is tall, with a built body and broad shoulders. He is not wearing his glasses so I can see his scarred left eye. My body stiffens as I try to stand firmer, taller.
"Where is my mother?" I balled my fists, ready to throw my strongest punch if needed. Although, I doubt that will make any difference as this man is almost a foot taller.
"She's waiting for you." He smirked an evil one. "With your father."
Aksara