Chapter 4 - Michael Garvin, an Angel From Orphanage

            "Micha, Micha !!"

            That's the special greeting from the residents of the orphanage for him. Those who come in and out every year, their age development, and the way they are educated are also monitored by Michael, or what is often called Micha until he gets older- twenty years old-. Since he was a child, seeing his friends one by one meeting their new family, he was a little disappointed because not many people gave him any attention. Even if there were, none of them would have been made to adopt him, keeping him in this orphanage until he was an adult.

            "Micha, is it true that you will leave us?"

            “Micha, Micha. That's a lie, right? "

            “Micha !! Then what about your promise to teach me to play the piano? "

            A crowd of little children whom he knew so well swarmed around him like flies. Two of them were climbing their feet, and one of them was busy climbing onto a chair to get onto his back.

            Those who were bombarded with questions only laughed a little while trying to step into the back yard by dragging his legs that were carrying two toddlers. Not to mention his troubled hands carrying a large bucket full of wet clothes. Today was his washing schedule, which his younger siblings should have helped, but everyone was busy making him dizzy.

            A teenager came over to him. Her long hair was tied in a ponytail, with hollow cheeks that added a sweetness to her smile which helped him to squeeze water out of the pile of clothes there.

            "Michael, is it true what I heard from mother, about you will be leaving the orphanage on Monday?"

            Ah… again it was discussed when the man himself was reluctant to remember it. Actually a thing which is very, very natural if everyone asks him. However, they should have known it clearly, because the orphanage regulations require all children over the age of twenty to leave the institution and inevitably have to live independently.

            It is impossible for the orphanage to continue to accommodate them at the same time more and more children are being abandoned or are simply being 'sent' to the orphanage. It is adult people who must be go out, after all they have to learn to support themselves and start building relationships. Whether it's for work or romance.

            "Of course .. don't you guys know the rules in this home, hm?" he replied after a long pause.

            "Ahhh I hate being an adult" the little girl who was clinging to her legs seemed to be advancing her lips. “She doesn’t love us, right? That's why we will be thrown back when we are adults” She said, which surprised Michael.

            "Hey sweety. Where did you hear that from, hm, evil words like that? ”

            “Isn't that right, Micha? We are unwanted children, aren't we? that's why we're dumped to the orphanage. Then when we are grown, we are again thrown away by the mother.” The name of all the children for the orphanage mother who takes care of them until they 'offer' them to prospective new families.

            "Hey, listen to me, sweetheart" Micha cupped her sister's fat cheek. He already considers everyone who has been there to be his brother or sister, no matter if they already have a new family someday and forget about him.

            "Mother took care of us from childhood .. until we met a new family. Do you think that mother will not be sad to hear what you say, hm? " Michael said with a gentle smile that still accompanies. "Besides, for us older siblings, leaving the orphanage is a must, because we have to learn to earn money, dear. Then later we will be rich, and buy new toys and books for younger siblings? "

            "Toy???"

            "Of course. You like toys, don't you?” Which was answered with a dubious nod accompanied by regret in her beautiful eyes. “Wash your hands then hurry to find mother, hug and apologize to her. Understand?" again and again only greeted by hesitant nods from the little girl with flat bangs.

Aldeolos

            Heavy rain water did not stop him from running. A little cursing because he was late at the bus stop, making him have to run to his current destination. The bus arrival schedule to its destination is around thirty minutes for each bus that arrives. He who already knew that he was late could not possibly wait half an hour for the next bus, nor could he order a taxi which only wasted his food money for two weeks.

He ended up spurting his feet to run, tucking himself in among the crowd, not caring about the curses of people who nearly killed him because of being hit, also ignoring the heavy rain soaking him. Twenty-five minutes he was treating his own lungs, until then he arrived at the back door of a luxury restaurant with a service that he said had the best system.

Hurriedly entered, put her wet bag into the locker after taking out the uniform which was always kept neatly in the locker room. Fortunately for him, because for every employee, the uniform will be changed once a month with the best laundry system facilitated by management, an effort to keep customers comfortable with their employees.

He changed his old shoes. Putting his wet socks on the locker, hoping that when he came home it would be dry, then he also replaced his footwear with standard shoes which was also facilitated by the management.

He entered the restaurant area. Silence against one wall waiting for someone in the area to raise a hand to call him. He knew for sure that his manager saw him not far away, glancing at his expensive watch to determine how many minutes he was late for work. Looks like his meager salary will be cut back this month.

A customer stretched out his hand as a gesture to call out to him. He carries a menu book with a very classy design, offering a number of expensive wines that are the favorites of the people there. Give the report to the kitchen then will come back again to pick up the food that has been ordered.

After the rich people who excess money was done with his meal, he would return to their table to pick up the dirty plates. Not infrequently his colleagues, who for some reason all shirked at each other several times nudging their other colleagues so that the plates fell off, were humiliated by guests and were sure to be cursed at by their superiors.

Michael tried to get along with his colleagues - though reluctant because they were a bit of a scoundrel, but still had to make sure he didn't make up for the cost of those super fantastic plates. Sometimes he also hopes to get a pretty big tip from his guests.

Friday to Sunday is the busiest day for people who work at the restaurant. Not infrequently his hands felt sore because he repeatedly had to lift three to four plates at a time, with the weight of the plates quite heavy. She wanted to massage her wrist a little, but her manager's watchful eyes sometimes made her shrink. He realized he needed this job and didn't want to mess around with his boss.

The four grueling hours were over. He, who should have been able to leave, could not help but have to stop himself from listening to the curses issued by his superiors. It's too ordinary. It hurt enough, but he got used to it. After all, what a twenty-two-year-old man with the status of only a high school graduate and a shabby little rented house expected to pay quite a bit. At least it is expensive according to the financial category.

He went out through the back door of the restaurant. Again crying for himself because it turns out that the rain has not stopped, or it is falling again when he comes home. It's seven in the evening. In one hour he has a schedule to look after the minimarket in a place that is quite busy until midnight.

Tired? Of course. He is human. But he still needs to eat, he still needs to pay rent for his place to live. At least that's the encouragement to continue living like this.

Before changing shifts with his coworkers, he had to go into the locker to get his work vest. Enter a room that resembles a giant refrigerator to refill drinks and ice cream that will be on display. Do not forget the large snack snacks that run out faster than others.

When he's behind the cashier, he still has to focus on taking care so that no one steals things there. Of course, the person who was on guard at that time would replace the money from the item that had been stolen.

Not to mention when it was low hours for visitors, he had to clean the table full of mini market food junk that was not thrown away by his customers. Collect trash into one big sack, wipe the table, and return to display the items that have run out. Until the working hour ends.

But somehow it happened, he woke up in a bed which he thought was quite soft and clean - in contrast to the bed in his room -, equipped with an IV which turned out to be connected with a needle that had pierced the back of his hand.

This was a hospital, and he didn't know why he ended up there.

The distinctive smell of medicine filled his sense of smell. His eyes moved uncomfortably as he tried to adapt to the light that suddenly hurt his retina the moment he opened them. Trying to sit himself down but the pain rushed over him He gasped. Suggested that he would be fine with regular breathing. Once again he tried to sit himself up even though the pain hit him again to the tendons in his back.

His hand lightly felt the source of the pain earlier. His stomach is wrapped in bandages, around his back, in layers. He took off the patient's clothes and then saw a number of red blushes penetrating his wound.

Was he hurt on the way home? He was unconscious. What he was bothered about at the moment was why he was there, why he was there, and how he paid for all the treatment which of course can be very expensive.

Why don't people just let him die? Was his appearance not poor enough to prove he was penniless?

His eyes glanced at the sofa beside his bed now. Her clothes are there. Complete with an old wallet containing only identification cards and a few coins. At least it's enough for him to get on the bus and eat instant noodles or rice that are made thin until he finally gets his monthly salary back.

He got up, grabbed his belongings and then limped out of the hospital area silently. It seems lucky for him to steal hospital clothes. At least it is thicker than the clothes on and will be comfortable to sleep on.

He boarded the bus which he had been waiting for eight minutes, leaning his head against the glass, remembering that from this bus stop, he had to pass through a very, very large field belonging to one of the richest men there, with a path that was only equipped with street lamps already dim.

No, Michael is not at all afraid of ghosts or satan or demons or whatever people call them. He is afraid of humans. For some reason, since he was little, he was more afraid of meeting humans even though he could be called very, very friendly. He only makes his persona easy to approach so that it is easy for him to ask for help from others when he really needs it.

Then the fear of fear happened today.

God, forgive Michael if he's been sinning and cursing a lot lately, but he'd rather die of hunger or die from being hit by a bus than die at the hands of a psychopath.

He cursed himself why running away from the hospital at midnight like this. Forgive himself but he also cursed the girl why she returned to a lonely area at midnight like this until she ended up having to become a victim of a crazy psychopath.

This is weird. He usually has an excess of patriotic attitudes in him, perhaps because he grew up in a peaceful environment at an orphanage, so he can't stand seeing people being abused or being bullied. However, it seems that her fear overcomes her current patriotic attitude.

He just stood behind a big tree, afraid of being caught by the crazy psychopath. He could clearly see how the psychopath tied his victim's hands up, stuffed her mouth with the girl's own panties, forced open her shirt, not to be harassed, but to slice it slowly, as if enjoying how the girl's small screams were restrained, enjoying how it felt. fear accompanied by tears emanating from the eyes of the victim.

Michael could see clearly that the psychopath had ended up strangling his victim until she lay limp. Michael could clearly describe when the psychopath was ready to mutilate the victim's body, the victim regained consciousness. Out of nowhere, she pushes the psychopath, then accidentally the psychopath's knife turns back to himself, hurting him.

Not accepting the treatment of the victim, he blindly attacked the poor girl. Stabbing the knife repeatedly in various places until the victim actually drew his last breath in the human bastard's hand.

Michael couldn't take it anymore. He settled quietly, ran back a little to his slum area not far from there. The edge of the field is visible, he will arrive at his house, which although small, he feels safe for him to hide.

He quickly entered his house. Pushing away an old owner-provided table to clear the door. He was really afraid of being caught by the psychopath and ended up being a victim too.

Minutes had already passed. His rough breath had softened again. He moaned softly holding his stomach which he felt hurt again. Lay himself down on his bed, then enter into dreamland.

Aldeolos

If you think because he's scared, plus his stomach is injured, he can cherish himself with a temporary holiday from work. After all, he worked on an hourly basis. During the last two years he was never allowed a day off. But no. He continues to work with a wound that doesn't seem to have dried up. Enduring pain while still giving customers his best smile as he brings out plates of expensive food made by professional chefs.

He nimbly provides menu books and recommendations for the best tasting expensive food or drinks when requested. Smiling happily because today some customers gave him quite a big tip. Blessings for working when you're miserable.

It seems that God still loves him.

Or not.

Because he, who had just returned from the bathroom due to an unbearable urge to urinate, was shocked by the police gang who arrived when he returned to the restaurant area.

Ignoring the shocked expressions on the faces of their superiors and colleagues, let alone the shocked expression on their faces, the policemen hurriedly handcuffed them. Saying a sentence that made him dumbfounded but astonished at the same time.

“Michael Garvin, you have been arrested for serial murder of five victims in the last two years. You are being held on a charge A crime against life under section 338 of the penal code. You have the right to remain silent or call a lawyer. Now come with us to the police station "