Truth Behind Curtains

[ BRYAN ]

"John Bryan Gutierrez, you can now go." The detective, Jack Hoffman, said as he uncuffed and assisted me outside the cell.

There was a feeling of me being surprised but I cannot meddle with it because I was thinking of Becca for the past few days that I'm here. I never had enough sleep knowing I am in a police department despite being innocent. I missed Becca so much, I want to hug and kiss her. Days have been really messy and still, we are caught off guard by these travails that are trying to devour us.

"Oh thank God - did you catch the culprit already, detective?" I asked him with my hands now hanging free on my side.

"With that, buddy, I can't tell. But you're free to go now."

I smiled after hearing his declaration. "Thank you very much, detective." I answered.

I hurriedly went out of the NYPD with my mind still fixed on getting home to Becca. I feel happy and excited since it's been a very long time. I miss her, that's fore sure.

You know, those times I spent inside the cell made me think about the times that I wasted, and the memories I had with Becca. I was mourning of my dad's death but sometimes, things are just serving itself. Justice, for my girlfriend: for Becca.

To be honest, I am feeling awkward every time I claim Becca is still my girlfriend. She never conform to the idea and I kind of feel a sense of being 'self-acclaimed' boyfriend to her. Though, whatever this is, at least I'm a free man now. I can prove my feelings for her.

As I went out the door and tread towards the road, I immediately stood beside the bunks and waited for a lift home. This time, I have nothing with me; not even my car nor my wallet for I left them all at the hospital. I feel broke as hell.

What could I have for Becca as a surprise? A flower? A chocolate?

Uhh - no. I have a lot but I am broke right now. Shit.

A truck was about to pass by after few minutes of waiting. I lifted my right thumb up as a sign that I need a ride. The vehicle stopped in front of me and the guy at the driver's seat opened the door from the passenger seat as a response to my call.

I hopped on the truck and closed the door right after, smiling at him as a sign of gladness.

"Thank you, sir." I uttered.

"It's fine. Where are you about to go bud?"

He tilted his head towards me while his hands are still fixed on the steering wheel, foot on the pedal.

"Uh, Right across Greenbelt Street, passing 8th Avenue."

"Right. Got you buddy."

He kicked the pedal and started revving the engine of his truck. He tilted his eyes back to the road as we go.

I am happy now that the department have proven I am out of this. To be honest, I still care about who killed my father, but right now, I think of Becca even more. I wanted to surprise her and tell her that I am fine and that we can now go back together. I always had daydreamt of her in flashes and this feeling of longing kept me awake at night.

I missed her so much.

I was smiling on our way to her house. I have been thinking of a massive surprise, like flowers or some romantic stuff but I am broke, really. Not even a single penny on my pockets as of the moment. It makes me feel angry! Ugh this issues. I'm not having it. Phew.

Moments passed us by without me nor the driver talking about stuff. This truck that we're driving look like a construction delivery whatnot. From here, I can see how this man beside me is kind of filthy with cement, and other stuff.

But he's nice anyway.

"Buddy, we're here."

As the guy beside me had my thought interrupted, I look past down the vicinity and I never saw how time flew that fast in minutes: I am now here in front of Becca's house. Silent neighborhood, not even a single person outside of their home.

"Oh, thank you sir. I really appreciate it."

"No problem buddy. Now go home and tell your momma I gave you a ride, haha."

I smiled back at him as he laughed, and yanked the door of his truck open.

As I hopped off the vehicle, he immediately went on driving after waving me goodbye.

I took steps nearer at Becca's house and knocked at the door.

"Becca!? I'm home." I called but no one answered, so I tried knocking at her door for the second time.

"Becca, this is me, Bryan." This time a louder call.

I tried knocking multiple times but no one's answering. I held on the knobs and as I could say it's a bit dusty, like no one had been here for days now. I guess she never went home after I was falsely arrested.

"Excuse me, are you John Bryan Gutierrez? the son of that doctor at South Coast Med? The one on the news?"

A voice talked from my back. In my startle, I turned around and saw a woman, in her 30's, standing a few meters from me. She might be living in this neighborhood since she has a dog that she's having a walk with.

"Oh, yeah, yeah I am John Bryan." I responded.

"I knew it was you. I recognized you from a distance, haha. But, what are you doing here?"

I started to fix my posture, trying to appear nice and composed to her.

"I was uh.. looking for my girlfriend. Rebecca-"

"-Tyler. Yeah, I know her."

I sensed a feeling of joy as I know I could probably trace where she is from here.

"Great. Did you happen to see her somewhere?" I added to ask.

"No, uh.. actually I did not. She never came home for days."

"Oh. She's been out for days, I see."

"Yeah.. But, don't worry. I'll tell her you came here."

She smiled at me with her dog still roaming around her current stance.

"No, Please don't bother telling her. I'll just.. uh.. meet her some other day."

The woman just went straight faced.

"Okay then, Mr. Gutierrez. If that's the case, then, I'll get going."

"Yeah, Thank you, ma'am. See you around."

The next thing that came up on my mind after she left was to come and visit her best friend, Gina. Maybe they stayed together at her apartment.

***

[ STEPHANIE ]

After a day of recollection to myself, I came up with an absurd guess -- that maybe, Rebecca Tyler is one of this and she's playing us all. How come the package came from her address? How can she have these pictures with her and act like she does not know anything about it?

I tried to rearrange the puzzle pieces and I felt a sudden collision in my mind. Rebecca Tyler could have been playing us all. I am doubting her right now.

What is she up to?

I am now alone in my apartment, and nobody's here with me. All I have in my hands are these pictures with caution of who's who, the culprit and the victim. Brandon is out somewhere with his friends and I never knew when he went out.

Alone right now; conflicts on my mind.

I feel like the last thing that I had to consider doing is to know what is going on with Rebecca Tyler. I stalked her social media and saw nothing but a bunch of pictures taken a month ago, and a lot of things that hasn't given me anything regarding the situation. Of course, social media. We will do everything to look like life is fancy as though everything is fine.

As I looked at her different pictures and tweets, I saw nothing. Even a slightest touch of what she's up to. Nowhere to be seen.

I feel like-

(Phone ringing)

Upon sitting here on my room, I heard a phone ringing in distance interrupting my self talk. It might probably someone calling me so, took a quick glance to my cellphone beside me but it's not the one that's ringing. The sound is coming from elsewhere.

I stood up from the chair, and followed the ringing phone.

It directed me on Brandon's room.

As my curiosity piled up, I twisted the knobs of his door and it clicked -- his room is not locked. As I open the door ajar, I can see his phone vibrating, emitting light through the screen on his desk. He left his phone for the first time.

I entered his space wholly with my mind fixed on taking up the call.

I took steps nearer and immediately took the phone in my right ear after hitting the 'respond' button.

"Hello? Brandon? I need your help" the voice from the other line uttered. I never spoke back as I listened and I can confirm that it was a woman, sounding agitated and afraid.

"Brandon? Please answer. I - I'm afraid here. Cop cars are wailing in distance and I couldn't keep myself easy, please help me."

I never responded. The woman sounded frightened of cops. But why? Is she a criminal? But if she is, why would my brother be around someone like her?

"Brandon please hel-"

The line disconnected. My mind froze for a minute.

I took the phone out of my ears and saw the name written from the call history: Hayley - call duration: 20 seconds.