CHAPTER TWO
THE KEY OF HOPE
'I should have stayed at the office," Mai thought, feeling weary and uneasy as she walked down the road in haste, never minding the fact that she collided with some of the people in her path. She didn't think that her day could get any worse. Well, from the looks of the looming dark mass of rain-filled clouds above the sky, the term 'cursed' would probably fit better than just 'bad luck'. Maybe dropping her lucky charm in that damned manhole was the reason for every mishap that was recently happening in her life.
The heavy rain started to fall. Great.
Letting out a tired sigh, Mai squeezed her way through another crowd and nearly bumped with the man who swayed in front of her.
"Hey!" The man shouted angrily.
What now? She took a deep breath and turned around impatiently, her hands raised apologetically. "I'm so sorry, sir but.. ouch!" Her eyes widened, her arm was suddenly yanked forward as the man pulled her close. The smell of alcohol and something else.. something brackish and metallic like.. like.
Her face suddenly paled, recognizing the smell of blood, then, her eyes went round with fear upon seeing the faint red color streaming on the ground and coming from his shoes. Abruptly, the image of a woman with her body tied on a chair and her head covered with a black cloth flashed into her mind. She was crying and pleading frantically.
"Please.. I'll do everything you want.. I'll do anything-
A shadow- of a man, swaggering ever so slightly- came into view, his teeth gleaming and curving into a wicked sneer. Then he raised something in his hand. It looked like a small sack soaked with blood dripping from its bottom.
"Do you know what happens to a traitor like you?" He said icily.
"No.. no.." The woman whimpered.
Mai was shaking now; the emotions of the woman flowing into her. Fear.
"No!"
Mai jerked her hand away just as the sight of the woman dropping on the floor, her throat slit into half and blood was flowing incessantly on the floor.
Oh, god..
She ran.
"Hey!" The man shouted.
She didn't stop, didn't look back until she rounded the corner of the street and into a less crowded area of the city. Good, he didn't follow her.
What the hell was that?..
She took a deep gulp and gripped her forearms tightly, her nails digging almost painfully on her skin.
The vision was without a doubt a paranormal reaction that came from the physical contact with someone involved in a recent crime; the vision wouldn't come crashing into her with such force and intensity if it wasn't. But the one who channeled the vision into her was not the woman because the vision would have turned green after she was killed.
So, who sent her that vision? Mai thought.
There was someone else there and whoever that person is, he's still alive.
She had to call the police. But after grabbing nothing but air- her shoulder bag suddenly missing- Mai cursed viciously under her breath.
Great. She must have dropped it when she ran.
She paused, trying to remember where, but then again she would have felt it, unless the man took it when he yanked on her arm.
Oh, no.. her shoulders slumped.
Dear god, what kind of trouble have I gotten into?
….
He had to get out, but the rusty gate wouldn't budge. That bastard must have locked it on the other side. His dainty fingers slipped just as his hope was the very minute he realized he was truly trapped in this warehouse. There was a small window for ventilation but it was too high and there was nothing to step on for him to reach it. Climbing the walls was nothing if not a stupid thing to do because it was made of thick and solid concrete. Apparently, praying for someone to save him was not going to work because no one knew this place aside from those mafias who killed his brother and sister, and probably would kill him too if they found out that he was hidden in here.
"Onee-chan." He whispered, but his call was futile for his sister lay in a puddle of blood- her body in the same kind of sack where they crammed his brother after killing him in cold blood.
He turned around, his back against the door as he slowly slipped to the floor in a heap of tired limbs and bruised skin. He started humming, for there was nothing else to do but wait for his death.
He wondered how long it would take them to find out that he was not back in the house or anywhere for that matter. They would wait until night fall before they came back to bury the dead body of his sister in order to avoid the risk of getting caught by anyone. Then, they will bring out the dozen packs of illegal drugs and give them to their distributors and to the hidden link of flash houses in the city.
There's probably at least four hours left before that happens.
And what else is there to do other than kill yourself and save the torture until you reached hell. Unless he could escape.
Slowly, he took the small key from his pocket and wondered why he was even trying to be optimistic.
He rolled the key between his fingers absentmindedly. Well, ever since he got the small thing, he seemed to change his perception of the future. That there was still a chance that god would take pity on him. Even, now he was still nurturing some hope that someone would come and save him. Even a divine intervention seemed believable even though he stopped praying a long time ago.
He looked at the key once again, wondering why he felt odd the very first time he touched it and still does. When he hid in the manhole a few days ago so that he could avoid the mafias when they came barging into the house, he accidentally stepped on the small thing. It was nothing special; it couldn't even be sold for all its worth, but it looked oddly clean from the rest of the baubles and garbage inside the tunnel. So he took it and felt even more odd when he felt suddenly at ease because spent his whole life running from debtor's prison or the mafias whom his father borrowed a large amount of money from in order to pay his debt after losing two hundred thousand at the card table. That was the only thing he could do to earn money after being labeled a wanted man for killing his adulterous wife.
They were always sleeping with one eye open- always looking over their shoulder- always living with one foot in the grave. Never did he feel safe or at ease in his whole life except when his sister sung to him a lullaby. So, he kept the trinket and wondered if it was a sign.
God, he desperately hoped it was..
…
To be continued.
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