1 Regrets Always Come Last

Charlie

What in the hell am I doing? It's the middle of the night -- 11pm, and here I am, driving back home with two random strangers in tow. My hands stiffened against the wheel as I nervously drove along the main Brevida freeway.

The sounds of the metro traffic resonated amidst the late-night radio. I looked to the two strangers I picked up, sitting on the backseat of my car. One was a defenseless kid, about seven or eight years old, napping on top of the older person's lap, sleeping soundly. His brother, the more cautious one, was much older, in his early twenties. He looked at me through the rear-view mirror and his sharp mahogany eyes added fire to the already brewing tension among us three.

"We're almost there. The long holiday really brought on a load of traffic volume." I gave him a forced smile as I maneuvered through the hellish capital traffic. I totally forgot about the long-ass holiday coming up. I sighed as I remembered my plans for an 'ultimate relaxation day' filled with binge eating and a long, well-earned sleep. Yet here I am, tired, stressed and bringing in two new adoptees.

Of all the things, why people. Not cats or dogs, people. Bank and Lemon are going to throw a fit.

But I couldn't just leave them there, not when... They were being chased.

By those men.

No doubt sent by 'him.' I recognize those uniforms, those coats. And their tattoo-ed hands. The black jasmine mark, a tattoo composed of five sharp swirls, held together by an inverted triangle as its core. It never reminded me of jasmine, no, to me it looked like an octopus swirling around its sharp tendrils of darkness. I trembled at the memory.

"Thank you for your kindness, but I would like to let you know that this is just temporary. My brother and I will move out as soon as I find a place for us. I'll also repay you for the trouble." The older brother said in a low voice.

My eyes shot up and looked to the rear-view mirror. And so, he speaks. His voice was deep and his accent was normal. They didn't seem like folks from the province, my eyes assessed their clothes and stuff as I my car halted before the stoplight.

"It's really not a problem. The kid – I mean your brother needs a suitable place to rest. That hiding spot was eventually going to get demolished anyways and I can't let you guys stay in prison while it's a holiday." My reply was only met with silence.

From the looks of it, he didn't seem like the talkative type. His deep brown hair was all over the place and almost reached his neck. Stains marred both of their shirts – mostly dried mud from their stay in the gardens. They stayed there for quite a while. I remember meeting his younger brother a week ago all energetic and innocent. That kid had the guts to talk to me, a random stranger dressed in her 'corporate look' fresh from the caves of immense pressure and competition.

I sighed once more as I recalled the backlogged paperwork from my superiors. I have so much to do, and this holiday was supposed to give me the ample rest and time to accomplish it. Yet, I took on a new responsibility. My thoughts came flooding in over and over as I processed my choices.

Reports, deadlines and presentations.

Payables, the café, my licensure review.

The get together.

I placed my head on top of the wheel and groaned in exhaustion. Regrets clouded my head. I have to get through this…somehow. But first, go home and sleep. A well earned deep sleep.

The whopping sound of car horns tore forced me back to reality as various motorcycles rushed ahead while I kept the cars behind me at a halt.

I changed my gears and drove forward. As do most people of Brevida functioned, plowing forward day-by-day through their corporate work. The high skylines of the capital state shone the brightest during this hour. "The Syndicate City" is what the outsiders often termed Brevida. A state where billions fo funds are transferred per minute and corruption runs amok. Almost all of the provinces despise Brevida as it kept most of its investors and foreign capital confined within its walls, only furthering its own while leaving the crumbs to the rest of the forgotten districts.

Truth be told, Brevida does not live up to its hype. It's just like any cosmopolitan state. Imagine New York, but bigger and with more highways and wider buildings, composed of various specialized cities ranging from entertainment, food paradise, education, commerce and the like.

My place is located in Eton City, situated in the middle of Brevida capital. A budding city with rising rates, where construction occurs after every corner. Big-time residential moguls are desperately trying to revamp this city from its slum-filled history to a fresh and hip place for the party-hungry youths and the neo rich.

I turned my car to a nearby corner cafe where artisan lights framed its front interiors and where a small chalkboard with listed specials was placed just outside the storefront.

I set my gears on park, switched off the AC and turned to the boys at the back. "We're here." I smiled and whispered, "Welcome to the complex."

Both of them were asleep. Great.