Planning to get away

C h a p t enr : 3

I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling a bit disoriented. My fever was gone, but so was Jessi.

Scratching my head, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water. Afterward, I went straight to the bathroom for a shower. I don't know why, but lately, I've been irritated by people with poor hygiene—even those who can't properly brush their teeth.

Maybe this is what they call trauma.

My house is simple—nothing fancy, just enough to support everyday living. I chose this house. It's decent and pleasant enough.

Honestly, when I was discharged from the hospital, Jessi offered me a place to stay. The moment I saw it, I left immediately.

I felt like I'd owe him.

Not just a debt of gratitude, but actual debt. I told him that, and he said he was willing to let me stay there for free. I shook my head so hard it almost fell off just to decline his offer. What if he'd later make me perform like a circus animal or pretend to be a monkey to repay him?

Safety first.

In truth, I can't bring myself to oppose him. He feels like a father figure, someone who looks at me as if we share an important connection—not just as best friends.

Sure, I could punch him or jokingly slap him if I got annoyed. He's patient with me, though. But it would never reach the point where I'd do something to genuinely upset him. Still, I feel like he did something in the past that made me scared of him.

Maybe he used to be my stalker?

Jessi would probably choke me if he heard that, but come on, with his wealth, I doubt he's a stalker. Anyway, it's just a hunch. He scares me, but I trust my instincts—they've never failed me.

After my shower, I got dressed and spruced myself up: a bit of perfume, lotion, and some alum. Why potassium alum? I prefer it over deodorant. Not because I can't afford deo, but my armpits are picky—they're for the elite only.

Even if the rest of me isn't.

I'm allergic to deodorant, and I even asked Jessi about it because, you know, he's supposed to be my best friend.

And what did the jerk do?

He rolled his eyes and said I must've caught it from sitting next to Paul. Like, what does Paul have to do with my deo allergy?

He's clearly just messing with me.

I let him be the mystery of the year and stuck to alum. I have a conscience, after all—I don't want to kill anyone with body odor. Honestly, it's unnecessary since I don't sweat or smell bad, but every time I think of the person I was with yesterday, I can't help myself.

Anyway, I used some alum for now. At least one of us smells good.

I put on denim shorts and a simple black t-shirt with "ň ə v ə x" printed on it. I even struck a pose in front of the mirror. Then I cringed at myself and stopped.

I headed to the kitchen and cooked some carbonara. To lift my mood, I brought it to the living room, turned on the TV, and switched to the Movie Central channel.

I squealed when I saw what was on.

Twilight Saga!

I've always looked forward to seeing Edward. Of course, Bella has her moments too, but let's be honest—if you're as gorgeous as Bella, you've got my blessing to take Edward.

There was one time when watching Twilight nearly got me into trouble. I can't remember which movie it was, but it had this swoon-worthy water scene. I was screaming my heart out—

Crash!

Suddenly, a rock smashed through my window.

"Ow—!"

Glass shattered.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it were just the window, but the rock hit my head too.

"Hey!!! I haven't even paid for this house yet!" I shouted, on the verge of tears.

I hadn't finished paying my rent, and now I'd have to fix a window—and deal with this throbbing head of mine.

But because I'm a forgiving person, I set their laundry on fire, put the ashes in a jar, and left a note: "Condolences. :>" Then I went back to watching.

Seriously, why throw rocks at your neighbor when you can settle things peacefully? Good thing my face—which only graces the world once in a blue moon—wasn't damaged.

Halfway through the movie, someone interrupted me.

*Ding dong!

Oh, for crying out loud.

"It's their moment!" I grumbled, carefully placing my plate on the table.

"Who's the fool disturbing me at night?"

Frowning, I marched to the door but peeked through the broken window before opening it.

My eyes narrowed.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is."

I wasn't surprised to see Paul standing outside my house, wearing ripped jeans, a gray t-shirt, and black rubber shoes.

*Ding dong ding dong!

"Hold on!"

Annoyed, I opened the door slightly.

"What do you want?"

"Lch…" he said, stepping closer.

"Wait." I motioned for him to stop and keep his distance.

He looked confused but complied. "Good. Now proceed."

As they say, prevention is better than cure.

"I'm sorry for what I did. You know why I did that, right? It's because I love you. I don't want any man touching you except me—" he said pleadingly.

Oh, the nerve.

I nodded, gesturing for him to come in.

Welcome, sir! May you leave as soon as you enter.

Tsk. As if I can do anything about this guy. He's just going to pester me outside my house anyway, and then have the audacity to act like he's the one inconvenienced.

Fine, let him in. I already feel sorry for my house anyway. Next time, it won't just be my windows that get shattered; maybe even my skull—just for good measure.

Not because of the neighbor throwing rocks, but because of Jessi smacking me so hard I might lose my brain, all because he'll be the one footing the bill for my windows again.

I've spent all my money fixing the windows, paying for checkups, and of course...

Eating.

But if that day comes, I'll beat him to it and turn this guy into my personal armor.

"Thanks, babe," he said with a smile, kissing my cheek.

Eugh. Damn it. He got me again.

I forced a smile and quickly closed the door before I gave in to the urge to slam it—on him.

Control yourself! Hold it together, Lch!

"Paul, want some carbonara?" I asked while switching the movie to Noli Me Tangere.

"Of course! Do you have any?"

"Yeah, go get some."

He just smiled at me, acting as if he hadn't caused a scene earlier. Now he's here pretending he just came by to hang out?

Really?

To top it off, he had the audacity to prop his feet on my coffee table.

"There's food there. Don't put your feet up." I scolded.

"What? My shoes are clean, though."

I shut my eyes tightly.

You can do this. You let him in, so stick with it.

I muttered curses in my head. I don't usually curse, but this guy really brings it out of me.

What a pain.

I took a deep breath and calmed myself. If I didn't, I might snap and lose control—possibly even strangle him.

I decided to get Paul some carbonara from the kitchen since he clearly wasn't planning to get it himself. When I got closer to him, I noticed he was talking to someone—on the phone.

"Oh yeah—shhh, she's here. Stop it."

Even though it sounded suspicious, I chose not to overthink it.

Whatever. Maybe it's just his sugar daddy or something.

I walked over to where he was sitting and placed the plate down. "Here, Paul."

Once I handed it over, I moved to the single-seater couch.

"Oh, why are you sitting so far away? I thought you forgave me already?"

What? Forgave? Where'd he get that idea?

What I meant earlier was get in before I beat you up.

Should I strangle him now?

I have two couches: one long one and a single-seater. To avoid any further irritation, I opted for the long one. The moment I sat down, Paul's hand crept around my waist.

"Let's watch now." he said, grinning.

I smacked his hand away. But since he was glued to the TV, he probably thought I brushed it off accidentally. He put his hand back.

The second time, I smacked it harder. This time, he looked at me. I glared back at him with a look sharp enough to cut steel.

Try me. I dare you.

---

The movie ended, and thanks to his insistence on a movie marathon, it was already evening.

Finally!

He stood up and grabbed his stuff. "Lch, I'm heading out. Tomorrow's your birthday, right? You should be the one to prepare something since it's your day. I'll just drop by tomorrow, okay? Love you. Bye~"

Yeah, right. How about you don't show up? Ever.

The last thing I heard was the sound of the door closing and his car pulling away.

I've wanted to break up with him for a while now. At first, I thought he was okay—seemed nice, sane, and I even hoped I'd learn more about my family by sticking with him. But I guess I was wrong.

Over the months, I started noticing strange things about him—and about myself too. Turns out, I was right to doubt, because I was completely wrong about him.

A little while later, an idea struck me like lightning.

"Yes! That's it!"

HAHA!

Let's see if we're not breaking up after this.

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