Chapter 5: Miss Author

"What if I just carry you home?" Antoine offered.

"No need." I answered while staggering like a drunk man. "I am just...fine!"

I stumbled.

Again.

The fight with the aswang* left me exhausted and dizzy that I can barely walk straight. He approached me and without any warning, lifted and carried me on his shoulder.

(In Filipino folklore, a shape-shifting monster who feeds on human flesh)

"Hey! I'm a lady. I can manage!" I refused and jumped out of his hold to free myself. "And besides, you should be more concerned about yourself. Let me check on that scratch."

He was quick to step back and avoid me.

"Later." he told me so discreetly.

"No-uh. Let me see." I persisted. With a swift grab of his arm, I rolled off the sleeve of his shirt, only to find some minor scratches, which I assumed to be deep. "You heal very fast!"

He rolled back his sleeve and shrugged his shoulders. "It was never that deep, really." he denied, even if I saw that he bled badly when he got injured.

He is really bad in lying.

"OK. Whatever!" I continued walking in very slow strides. He patiently followed me from behind.

It was still dark and I can barely see the road. I saw the house on the right side of the field and proceeded to it, wondering why Antoine's house became smaller and with iron railings.

"I am just too sleepy." I convinced myself.

"Do you have two gates?" I asked while trying to open one.

"I think you should not go there." he interrupted.

"Why?"

"Because that's the pigpen."

"Oh!"

I felt my cheeks burn red. Too good, it's a bit dark and he can't see how I blushed.

Maybe, he did not.

Or, maybe he did.

I really don't care as long as I make it out of this world alive!

"This way." he finally led me to the right direction.

It was about four o'clock in the morning when we reached the house.

"You may rest for as long as you want." he told me. "This had been very tiring for you."

I was not able to sleep at all. The ordeal really scared me and it made me realize that I am vulnerable in this world. Even if I wanted to close my eyes, the bloody scenes that I witnessed with my own eyes made me shudder. Without noticing the passing of time, I heard the clock alarm at six in the morning. I took a bath and proceeded to the kitchen, thinking of preparing breakfast or do errands for Hermana* Auring.

(Spanish term for "Sister")

She is already in the kitchen frying eggs while on the corner, Antoine is mincing garlic for the sinangag*.

(Filipino's version of garlic fried rice)

"Good morning." I greeted. "I'm sorry if I came late. Let me help."

Hermana Auring warmly smiled at me and waved her hand with a ladle. "It's fine. I'll train you to clean the house later. Sit there and relax."

"Hi!" I addressed the master of the house who is busy mincing garlic.

"Can I help?" I inquired. "Please?"

Antoine gave me two potatoes to peel. He never uttered a word the whole time we were in the kitchen.

While we ate in the dining room, he was unusually silent. Sometimes I would catch him staring at me. When I try to look back, he would shift his gaze somewhere.

"I need to go." he said as he stood up from where he was sitting.

"You haven't finished your food." I tried to stop him.

"I'm full." He went to his room and stayed there until afternoon. I wondered if I did something wrong to displease him.

"That's just him." Hermana held my hand to console me, probably noticing my sad expression. "He does not open up to anyone so easily and may seem like a snob but he is really nice. You'll see."

I know.

As seen in my dreams, I saw him as to be very kind and humble. If only "real men" im my "real world" would be like him, no girls would be crying. His gentle demeanor, incredible patience, and respect to women makes him stand out among all men.

Sadly, his kind rarely exist in my world.

Or, have completely disappeared.

Hopefully, I could turn this fiction character into a real one so that there will still be hope for mankind.

"Beautiful flowers!" I happily declared as I poured water on them. It became my habit to talk to plants because my grandmother told me that if I speak with them, they will produce more blooms. "Ooh! You've got a new bud there! Good rose!" I praised.

"Good rose?" I heard Antoine speaking beside me. "Will she answer back?"

"Yaiiks! How long have you been there?" I blurted out. surprised that I did not notice his presence.

"Ten minutes ago."

"You're a little sneaky, haha! Like a cat!" I quipped. My joke still kept his face deadpan. Both of us became eerily silent for a while.

"Can we talk?" he started. "I mean, we are already talking but can we go inside?"

"You can tell me anything, here. What is it?" I put the pail of water down and shifted my full attention on him. I looked straight into his eyes and smiled. "OK. Tell me." He was quick to break eye contact with me. A faint blush formed on his cheeks.

"It's...very important."

My heart's beat began to race.

Will he turn me away?

Oh no!

I need to be with him.

As much as I want to be anxious, I preferred to retain my composure and never show myself as a maiden in distress.

"S-Sure." I obliged.

We sat on the living room. My hand nervously tapped the round table and waited for him to start talking.

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. He clasped his hands together.

"Maria Clara." he muttered my name. "MC."

"Y-Yes?" I stammered.

"Wait here. I am going to show you something."

When he came back he handed me a book.

My eyes widened in shock.

It was the novel I created about him.

"Where did you get this?" I asked while flipping the pages of the book.

"I saw it on the spot you mysteriously appeared. Maybe it's time for you to tell me who you really are."

For unexplainable reasons, he sounded desperate and pleading. His stared at me like he was trying to get through my mind.

I just bit my lip and shook my head.

"I've read it. I want you to be honest. Why does it say almost every detail about me?"

"I don't know if you will believe me." I began to admit. It is his right to know and lying will do no good. "Do not be shocked, OK? That book is really about you."

Antoine let out a cough. Surprisingly, his reaction showed no trace of bewilderment.

He was so calm.

"Make it clear. Who is this author...Bianca Ann Torres?

"Why do you want to know?"

"Please, just tell me." he insisted.

"OK, I give up!" I raised both of my hands to surrender. "Alright, she is me. My real name is Bianca. Yes, I wrote about you."

Antoine removed his eyeglasses and stood up in haste. For a second, I thought that he will pounce at me. He inhaled deeply, pulled a chair towards my direction and sat beside me. He was so close that my face was inches away from his.

"Are you telling the truth?" His gold eyes glittered as they stared into mine.

"What will I get if I lie?" I reasoned while pushing my chair back as I was already feeling very uncomfortable with the way he acts. "Can you move farther, please?"

Instead of moving away, he took my hand and placed it on his chest.

"Miss Author." he said so sweetly.