Chapter 3

Due to the different tone of my phone, I was pulled straight out of my sleep. I reached an arm onto the table  and my fingers tapped, trying to find where my phone was. As I felt a touch of a solid rectangle device, I grabbed it and accepted the call. Not bothering on seeing who the caller was.

"Xyla! You're fired!" 

With that voice, I could easily tell that it was my manager. I frowned when the words he said seemed to have echoed inside my head. 

I easily recalled that on the very first day of my shift, when I was late, he contained his anger in a jar. But clearly, it was about to burst. He reminded me of the rules, especially the first one–to not be late, once happens, employee gets fired.

I stayed up all night. Anticipating that  I would find out who the prankster was. Or maybe, murderer. That person could've killed my aunt! 

If I wouldn't have stayed up all night until whatever the time was before I fell asleep–I shouldn't have been fired.

I lifted my face up and groaned in frustration. Life is getting worse than before. While all I ever thought is it would get better but it didn't.

I pulled my arm down slowly, careful on not damaging my phone. I instantly realized that I fell asleep on my table when my eyes caught sight of an open book.

I spent the rest of the night reading it as I waited for the stranger.

But there was one paper whose tone is different from the book’s pages. I slid my finger under it and brought it up to my face.

The familiar handwriting with scribbled words pulled me back to yesterday, from whence I received a letter.

Hello Xyla, just spend the rest of your time having fun. While you still have lots of time to live. ; )

I bit my lower lip as tears welled up in my eyes. This was the second time I received a letter. The murderer sure did took advantage to scare me considering that I’m living alone.

The little paper was still on the same spot I left it since yesterday. I picked it up, dialed Officer James’ number and waited as my phone rang. 

On the first ring, Officer James accepted my call.

“Officer James Exchaure speaking,” he answered. His voice was loud and clear enough to be heard. 

“Morning, Officer,” I greeted sheepishly. I felt my heart pound hard against my chest. My hands were getting cold. These were such extremely exaggerating body reactions just because I was asking for help from an officer that I once had a crush on for 5 minutes or less, 2 days ago.

There was an awkward pause coming from the other side of the line, “Xyla, what a great morning, isn’t it? A fair maiden woke up and decided on calling her prince,” the loud and clear tone of his voice quickly shifted to the same tone he did on me when we first met,–soft and teasing.

I rolled my eyes, “Not so great. Well, for me.”

“You received another one, didn’t you?” 

My head bobbed once and I cleared my throat and answered, “yes.”

Officer James advised me to divert my thoughts from the letter by keeping myself busy as I wait for them. I don’t even know how many they were going to be that would come here and it made me worried; I didn’t want to cause a scene.

The letters I received were placed underneath a book. I didn’t want to read those horrible words as I hoped to spend the rest of my day alone and with nothing to worry about.

I got out of my room and went straight to the kitchen, still in my pajamas printed with cute ducklings. It was already 9 in the morning and my stomach just wouldn’t stop screaming like a banshee.

When I opened the fridge, disappointment kicked me in the gut. There were nothing else inside but a rotten passion fruit that has been in the fridge right after aunt Nana’s funeral. It simply reminded me of her since this was the only fruit she loved the most. 

I missed Aunt Nana so much. If only I could turn back time and should have slept more with her in her room at night, give her warm hugs and feel her soft kiss on my forehead.

Shaking off the depressive thoughts in my head, I shut the fridge and started rummaging to every cabinet I could see where food can be stored. Sadly, there are none left. 

I shouldn’t have raised my voice at Officer James and insisted on not driving me home, if I really did–I would have lots of food to devour.

I brought my hands up to my face and groaned frustratingly. I just got fired, I didn’t get paid for this month and I don’t have any more food.

My hands felt rough, tiny particles rubbed against my face and I knew the second I felt those, I needed to clean the house.

Maybe cleaning would divert my thoughts from all these frustrating events that happened in my life.

I huffed and plummeted myself down on the couch. I redecorated the entire house. I’ve taken a refreshing bath–it was what my soul and body needed after the tiring day.

 My guts had gotten sick of the same view of it which came to the extent that I needed to create a different view and change. Me and my lonely self need to move on from the past.

But the letters coming from a person whom I presume was my aunt Nana’s murderer would still be stuck poking my head unless the case is already solved.

For the entire day, I spent my time cleaning the house. I have swept the floor, mopped it, wiped the windows, did the laundry, replaced the curtains and my sheets but did not bother on rearranging aunt Nana’s bedroom but, of course, I replaced her bed sheets as well.

While I really intend on moving on, somehow, I just feel her presence, like she’s with me. 

However, that could only because we can move on but the memories stays as what it was.

The most important and frustrating part I did all day was to skip both breakfast and lunch. My stomach has been driving me wild for hours.

Two knocks erupted from the main door, I hesitated. It could be Officer James with so many cops with him. Another set of knocks came and I panicked. 

My feet shuffled across the floor as I made my way to the bathroom. I needed to make sure that my first meeting with other Police Officers with James will go smoothly. I faced the mirror and felt satisfied that there was nothing wrong with my appearance.

I got myself out of the bathroom and rushed to thee living room. Impatient knocks and shouts from a masculine outside the door stopped when I opened it widely.

“Good afternoon, Officers,” I greeted.

“Ah, the damsel in distress,” Officer James smirked.

Before me, stood two officers–one which I do not recognize. Officer James’ partner looked at me with his chin up and a grimace, obviously displeased.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I ducked my head. 

Officer James seemed to have notice the tension growing, that he cleared his throat and said, “May we get inside?”

“Oh,” I looked up at them and smiled sheepishly, “of course.”

I moved aside for them to enter. I led them to the living room and nervously fiddled with the bottom hem of my shirt.

They both sat down on the couch. The partner was, I think, maybe 20 years older than Officer James. He lifted up his watch and the displeased look of his face worsened.

“You’re wasting my time here, kid,” he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the couch.

“Please wait, spare me just a second,” I stuttered. Officer James brought only one cop with him. Just one cop and it made me real nervous. I have never been into such serious situations before. 

I took long strides to my bedroom and I felt stupid. My head’s been itching to be pounded against the wall due to my stupidity. They’re Officers, Xyla! Waste their time? What are you thinking? 

Snatching off the letters from underneath the book, I dashed outside and immediately handed the letters over to Officer James.

“I crumpled that letter yesterday and the other one is what I received today. I don’t know what to do anymore Officers and I hope you can help me.”

“This is a prank,” the older Officer said.

“I already told you Officer Adrian that this is not a prank,” Officer James remarked.

“I promised your father that I will take care of you, divert you away from all these bullshits and yet, here you are, helping a girl like her, fully knowing that this crap is a prank,” he shoved the letters to Office James’ open hand and stood up.

“It’s not a prank…” I muttered. The words barely voiced out as they were stuck under my breath. This man—Officer Adrian, could be the person that hung up on me yesterday. 

“I swear to the Gods, James, if your father knows about you involving yourself in the pranks of teenagers just like how immature and irresponsible you are, get out of my sight,” Officer Adrian walked out of my house and left Officer James with me in an awkward silence.

“I apologize in behalf of my uncle’s rude behavior,” James started. He pushed his chin up to look at me with an apologetic look.

“It’s fine,” I whispered and plopped down on the couch, a seat away from him.

“I’m really sorry, Xyla.”

“I already told you that it’s fine; I can do this on my own.”

“You know you can’t. You’re alone and weak.”

“Come again?” My eyebrows knitted together and I glared at him.

“No, I mean, I’ll be living here with you to solve this ‘prank’ or so what my uncle said,” He rolled his eyes.

“You are not allowed!” I bluffed and my voice went  almost a shout. His words have quite stunned me. Him? Living with me? Nope!

“Did I ask for your consent? I’m quite sure what I said wasn’t a question. I’m living with you here from now on, period.”