Chapter # 3

It was almost noon, the red-haired girl frantically climbed down the bus, making her way towards the bench she occupied in the morning.

Zubie was looking for the book she handed over to the stranger in the morning. It was of utmost importance as it held the recipe for a cure for Isabelle's illness.

'Maybe the man was considerate and left the book on the bench?' she thought, hopefully.

She examined the bench and surrounding area, but to her dismay, no sign of the book or the man himself.

Zubie fell on the bench, her head in her hands. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't even remember the full recipe or the ingredients used.

Her thoughts were all muddled, nothing coherent. Her train of thought was broken by the noise of an ambulance. It passed by the stop, going in the direction of the block she was living in.

She nothing special of the ambulance and hoisted herself to her feet. With what little strength she had, she strode towards her home.

Zubie's heart snared at the sight of the ambulance standing just outside her home.

"Zubie! You are finally here!" the old baker from the next door exclaimed as soon as he noticed her presence.

"What-what happened?"

Behind him, the medics were taking a sickly pale Isabelle on the stretcher.

"I came by to drop the bread and muffins as usual but no one answered the door. Forced the door open, and saw Isabella unconscious on her bed." the old baker was out of breath, explaining the situation with the frantic movements of his arms.

Zubie froze, her senses finally catching up to what he was saying.

"Zubie, I think you should sit---" She sprinted towards the ambulance, forcing the door open.

"I'm sorry miss but we need to take her to the hospital---" with shivering hands, Zubie takes her mentor's wrist in her hands.

Zubie dropped the hand, making her way down from the ambulance.

The old man baker looked at her with pity in his eyes.

"Zubie, I---"

"Could you leave me alone, please mister Baker?"

"Of course, Zubie, if you need anything just ask."

She bobbed her head, licking her dried lips. Her lifeless limbs lead her to the small foyer, sitting on the tiny set of stairs. Zubie wanted to cry, scream, and let out all the negative emotions bubbling inside her. She wrapped her arms around her knees, swaying herself slightly, like a child on a swing. But no, she will not cry, because she knew who to blame. And the blame was all on the white-haired man for the death of her mentor.

The past week has been a blur for Zubie, with people coming and going. Saying their condolences to the old pharmacist. Her father also came, taking her with him to the village for a couple of days.

That did not help in lighten up her gloomy aura as most of her family members liked to overlook her existence.

But she did not mind that at all, it has been like this for a long time, ever since she was born.

After a week of sitting idly in her parent's home, Zubie decided it was time for her to head back to town and carry on with her life as always.

She said goodbye to her family and caught the first ride to the town.

When she came back, the lock on the front door was still broken just as she left it. But the door was barricaded from the inside.

Zubie walked around the house, all the way to the back door. She unlocked the door and stepped in. Her eyes took in the familiar interior, it was a little dusty and looked haunted. She went to her room, placing her belongings there.

Zubie decided to clean the whole house, excluding her mentor's room. She swept the floor and polished the wooden furniture. Washed the laundry and did the dirty dishes laying on the sink.

After she was done cleaning, she decides it was time for her to finally open her mentor's room as well. With a heavy heart, she twisted the door knob, entering the familiar room.

With broom in hand, she started cleaning.

While dusting the room, she caught sight of the old box on the nightstand. The box has belongs or rather belonged to her mentor.

Zubie has never seen what was inside of it. She picked it up, admiring the detailed art on it. It has delicate patterns of some kind of flowers on it that she didn't recognize.

Shaking her head, she placed it back on the table. When she was done with cleaning, Zubie decided to take a visit to the local market and buy some groceries.

(---------------------)

The market was lively with every type of vendor and kinds of meats, vegetables, and other assortments.

Each individual there was busy in the little world, their creation. Zubie smiled, she loved seeing the crowded places like these. The places like these gave her assurance that everything was normal, just as it should be.

She bought some vegetables and chicken, thinking of making some stir fry and rice.

When she was done, decided to head back taking the shortcut home. The shortcut was in distance from the market, the streets were much more darker and gloomy.

Zubie has taken this shortcut all her life, nothing unusual has ever happened to her or anyone.

The old pavement made a thumbing sound with her every step, Zubie shifted the bags from one hand to the other.

Her walk came to a halt, in the distance she was sure she saw grey haired person in the low lights of the streets.

She squinted her eyes, trying to take a better look at the person. Even though she can only see the back, she was sure it was the same person from the bus stop that day.

The man had his hands in his pockets, as he strolled down the alley. Zubie's heartbeat scampered to the roof, she can get her answers from the man, but how?

The man turned and disappeared into a narrow alley with a stinky smell that wafted from the sewage.

Placing her bags on the side, Zubie followed the man inside.