Chapter 2

FOUR HOURS.

It's been four freakin' hours since I walked through those library doors and I haven't gotten out of the pile of books I took from the shelves. Yes. I am that serious to ace this math assignment.

Some might call me as an all work and no play kind of guy or as Terrence would put it, a party-pooper and stoic statue, but it doesn't get to me. I'm just that serious in keeping my grades up. I don't want to disappoint my parents again like the previous year.

In truth, they were a bit hesitant to let me be on my own living in the dorm rooms at Harrington. But Dad eventually came through and convinced Mom to allow me to stay here provided that I would be on my best behavior. That I would be more disciplined and responsible with my actions.

A lot has happened the last year. The issue of my parents' divorce and the break up I had with my first girlfriend. The rebellious phase I thought I could never grew out of. Eventually, with the help of the people closest to me, I realized how fucked up my actions were. Hence, me deciding to turn my life around and try to make up for all the mistakes I've made in the past.

"Pulling an all-nighter again, deary?" asked Helga in a frail and soft voice. She just finished returning the books in their rightful sections and appears to be done for the night. She was carrying her purse in one hand and a fuchsia pink coffee tumbler with small hello kitty stickers in the other.

Helga is our school librarian. She's 72 years old but could pass for 80 with her ruffled pink blouse and ankle-length green skirt. She always wears this tattered maroon cardigan and square-framed glasses the size of gum balls. No doubt you'll know she's nearby whenever you smell mixed scents of birch wood and cat fur. However, don't be fooled by her intimidating demeanor. She is actually quite nice. Well, to some people.

"Not tonight." I smiled. "I have to meet the gang by eight for a movie night." I glanced at the grandfather clock beside the counter which tells me it's already thirty-three minutes past seven. I still got a few minutes left.

"That's new." She pursed her lips and nodded approvingly. "But that's great. It's no good being an outcast from your peers. You should go out and have fun while you got the chance. I remember when I was your age, I used to be the leader of a biker gang."

From her cardigan pocket, she pulled a slightly ripped, black and white Polaroid and ushered me to look. I saw a mean looking woman, that's probably a younger version of Helga, with puffy hair and too much eyeliner. She was wearing a leather jacket and spiky boots on top of a Harley with black skeletons designs.

I scratched the back of my neck with extreme awkwardness. Why an old woman carries an old photo of her young, gang-like self in her pocket, I don't even wanna know.

"Ah, those were the days." She cackled, eyes sparkling at the vivid memory. "And I looked hot in this photo. Even now my hotness still doesn't dissipates, all those handsome old men fighting over for my attention at the bingo club." More cackling with amusement.

Okay. Ewe. It'll be difficult to erase that in my memory.

Finally, she bid me farewell and appointed me to close up the library because I'm the only one left here and she had to be home early tonight to meet her daughter and grandkids. Most students are probably out tonight anyway smoking pot and getting drunk in bars and cold, dark alleys.

I bid Helga farewell as she shut the library doors behind her.

"Huh." I huffed. "Now that's the weirdest conversation I never want to relive in. Oh well, back to the books."

I stood up to stretch my aching limbs. Then, I adjusted my seating position for comfort. I turned on the desk lamp for better lighting before reading again. Seconds passed, I let out a small yawn. My eyes are beginning to feel droopy. I shook my head to let loose and try not to fall asleep while searching for the easiest formula on how to solve x in this stupid Math equation. But not even the pinching or the slapping can force me to stay awake. I yawned twice. I checked the grandfather clock yet again. It's already seven fifty-five. I should wrap this up and meet the gang at the Observatory.

I yawned for the last time. Fatigue and sleepiness fogged my brain to think of anything else. I rested my head on the desk and without even realizing it, I fell into a deep slumber.

WITH EACH STEP SHE took, she becomes more and more agitated.

Treading her way into the dark streets with only a few lamp posts that serves as her source of light, everything soaked in silence. From the bar where she came, she drowned herself with alcohol to ease the pain after she caught her boyfriend red-handed cheating on her with another woman. Yes, she was devastated but rage started boiling inside her. Why do some guys never value the concept of faithfulness and trust in a relationship? What's worse, she didn't just saw him making out with some stranger. That would have been tolerable. However, having an affair with her best friend is like a huge slap in the face.

At that moment, she wasn't just angry - she was seething mad. The infidelity and betrayal left a bad taste in her mouth. After the confrontation which definitely caused a scene and the declaration of a break up followed thereafter, she went into a local bar and got wasted.

At two in the morning she decided to walk home. And that's when she first heard it. . .

Footsteps following behind her.

Her blood ran cold. Her whole body shivered, this time it wasn't because of the cold night air. Her heart was racing and perhaps, the spirit of alcohol lost its control over her because her mind cleared. Her senses sharpened. One thing is absolute.

She was being followed.

By some creep or maybe a pervert.

She walked faster. As fast as her lanky legs could carry her. From behind, she heard the footsteps matching her pace. Her fear grew. This time, she ran.

The whole neighborhood was quiet. Most of the residents are now enjoying the comforts of their homes and the warmth of their beds. It's rare to find someone still awake at this late hour. But she needed help. Some creep is following her and she wouldn't want to find out what he'll do to her if he catches up.

She made a turn towards her street when she felt someone grab her arm. Hot tears spilled from her eyes. She writhed and kicked, squirming to break free. To her relief, his grip slipped and she fell on the ground. Pain erupted from her knees because of the fall but it didn't match the intensity coming from her arm. With the help of the light coming from the lamp post she's under, she saw three red scratches, bleeding and staining her skin. She bit her lower lip as she took off her scarf and applied pressure on her bleeding arm.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for him but found no one. She was all alone in that street. It's like he suddenly disappeared without a trace. The thought of her pursuer hiding in the darkness made her feel more anxious.

On the other side of the road, just behind the bushes, a figure stood, eyeing the staggering woman who was oblivious of its presence. It tilted its head from side to side, curious of her. When the wind blew, its head rose and smelled the air. The sweet aroma of blood was enticing and definitely salivating.

The temptation was so strong, it cannot contain itself. It advances.

A small hint of movement, her ears perked and she heard it. Small, light footsteps approaching her from behind. Every step it took was so light it barely made any sound at all. Flesh against the asphalt, as if the person wasn't wearing any footwear intentionally to avoid being heard.

The woman stood, still clutching her bleeding arm. Slowly, she turned and came face-to-face with her attacker.

A silhouette of a tall man was standing two lamp posts away. She couldn't see his face because he was hiding in the darkness but what made her tremble is the two glowing red orbs with black slits on a featureless face, glaring at her like a predator. He took one step forward and that prompted her to run.

At the far end corner of the street, she saw a light coming from a house. She felt hopeful. Thank goodness, someone was still awake at this time of the night.

Her attacker was gaining on her and she barely reached the porch. Once she was near the front door, immediately her hands rammed against the heavy oak.

"Help! Help! Please, open the door!"

She continually pounded on the door. With every passing minute, she desperately hoped and prayed for someone to at least hear her and open the door for her.

"HELP ME!"

Without warning, someone grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and pulled her into a black hole leaving no trace of her existence.

Everything became silent again.

Inside the house, Helga checked on her sleeping grandkids before kissing them on the cheek. She just came down from their rooms when she heard loud knockings behind her front door. Who could it be at this late hour? She wondered.

Beside the hat stand, she grabbed her baseball bat just in case. It wouldn't hurt getting a little too cautious.

Without hesitation, she unlocked the door and yanked it open only to see no one on her front porch.

"That's odd. I could've sworn. . ." Her voice trailed off when a thought occurred to her. Immediately, she scowled. "Those damn prankster kids." She muttered before slamming the door.