CHAPTER 42: A DESPERATE MOMENT
THE GIRL WHO CAN’T DATE
By Eleventh
CHAPTER 42: A DESPERATE MOMENT
“I thought I was gonna die that night. But when I saw him, I know I’m gonna be okay. I felt safe. When he is around, I always do.”- Ira P.
AT THE PINEDA RESIDENCE
“I’m sorry, Chief. I guess you were pranked. You know kids nowadays.”
Scratching his head with a simper, Mr. Doroja lied to the two policemen, one slender and one plump, who came to check his house after receiving a call. The rain stopped trickling but his sage green shirt was sopping with rainwater and sweat and his pants were covered with dirt and mud.
However, the chief officer who had a slender body was quite suspicious when he glinted his flashlight at the entrance of his house.
“Can we at least check your place, sir? Just to make sure that everything’s alright.”
“Erm… sure.” Mr. Doroja hesitantly answered.
The policemen invited themselves in, walking calmly on the brick walkway and pointing out their flashlights at every corner of the yard.
“Got no lights?”
“Erm… the service switch got broken and I’m still fixing it, sir.”
When they reached the front entrance, they were bemused to see the crack in the door.
“What happened to your door?”
“Oh, I happen to, erm… break my door because I lost my keys.” He replied sniggering at the wary officers.
“Are you sure you’re the master of the house?” the plump officer queried.
“Seeing that you have no keys with you and you broke the door, you could be a culprit.” The slender officer declared.
Mr. Doroja lost his smile and began to feel annoyed with the situation he is in.
“What must I do, then, to prove myself that I live in this house and that I am not a thief?”
“You can show us some proof like perhaps a photo? Any photo you can take from the inside,”
Mr. Doroja let out a heavy sigh for having to go through such hassle. He had no photo of himself to prove that he was the master of the house.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I am not fond of photos.”
The officer with a slender body clicked his tongue while taking out his handcuff from his pocket.
“How about you go with us to the precinct and explain yourself?”
Mr. Doroja stepped back putting his hands up in the air and tried his luck to get out of the mess.
“Wait, sir! I can tell you the parts of this house just to prove that I live here. It’s a one-story house with eight rooms including the living room, one master bedroom, and a study room. At the back of this house, there’s a shed where I keep my gardening tools.”
The plump officer made a grunting noise. “I’m sorry but that’s not enough, sir! For all we know, you could have checked the place already before we got here.”
The old man groaned and pulled his hair in frustration. “Alright! Alright! I can prove that I live here, okay? In the study room, I have my keys there hanging on the wall and I can show you what keys will open each door of this house because after all, I am the master of this house.”
The officers looked at one another. In the end, they gave Mr. Doroja a chance. They followed him as the old man led the way to the study room. But when Mr. Doroja opened the door, he was surprised and flustered to see the hook empty. He traced the wall with his hands but there were no keys.
Perceiving that Mr. Doroja could not show any proof, the officers quickly handcuffed the old man and dragged him to the police car. They left with the sound of the siren wailing on the road.
When the alarm died as the police car had driven far from the village, Skye left his hideout and began to limp his way to the shed. His back was badly injured when he accidentally misstepped on the stairs and fell into the basement. When he rolled down, his left leg got stabbed by a protruding big rusty nail.
He endured the scorching pain of his wounded leg as he walked to the shed. He has been hiding in one of the rooms when he saw Mr. Doroja dragging the unconscious Ira out of the house and there could be no other place to hide her but in the shed.
When he got there, the shed was locked with chains. He looked around to find anything that could help him break the chains and thought of the ax. He remembered Ira carrying it but had no idea where she could have left it. He looked again and opted for a big rock. He picked the biggest rock he could find and hammered it on the chains. It took him a little while before it broke out.
When he opened the shed, he was about to burst into tears to find three people inside – Tristan, Carlos, and Ira – wounded, tied with a rope, and unconscious.
He rushed to Ira first and began shaking her.
“Ira! Ira! Please wake up! Ira! Please…”
He placed a finger on her nose to check if she was breathing and felt relieved to have felt air coming out from her nostrils. He went to check the boys and had another relief to find them breathing. But they needed to be sent to the hospital as soon as possible, especially Carlos. He was badly bruised and all of his cuts have turned purple.
Then, he went back to Ira and gently tapped her face to try to wake her up.
Ira made a grunt and faintly opened her eyes. When she caught a glimpse of Skye, she heaved a sigh of relief and closed her eyes again, and rested her head on his chest.
The pain in his leg discomforted Skye so he sat beside Ira to rest while thinking of a way to get out of there. His chest was pounding and he was breathing fast. He closed his eyes. What a desperate moment he was in! How will he get these three people out while he is as wounded as them? If he screams for help, he doubts someone will hear. The houses are a bit distant from one another. If he calls the police, surely they would not come.
He took out his phone.
He can only call one person for help.
He hated him but he got no choice.
He dialed his number.
It rang.
And when the person on the other line answered, he spoke to him in tears.
“Claude! Help!”