Officer Raymond Gavia

I woke up at six since my body clock won't allow me to oversleep. Being suspended didn't make any difference with an actual school day since I had to wake up early and do all housework. Though I no longer see the house as a home, I still don't want to live in a dirty and stinky environment. Dad was nowhere in the house when I went downstairs to get some water to drink. Maybe he left early to open his automotive shop that barely has any customers.

I was starving since I hadn't had dinner last night, so the meal above the table caught my attention. I walked closer and stared at it. Dad cooked fried rice, egg, and bacon for breakfast, which I can tell was for me because of the note beside it saying,

"Dad's a little too drunk last night, sweetie. I cooked your favorite breakfast."

I didn't know what I would feel, so I crumbled the note and threw it somewhere before I took the plate outside to feed it to the stray dogs.

It's been four years since I stopped eating anything Dad had prepared for me. And ever since that day, I had sworn to myself that I would never ever consume or use anything he had produced with his hands or bought with his money. I would work for everything I need so I won't be at a loss when he dies someday.

I went back to my room to make some money to buy food from a nearby bakery. I plan to go grocery shopping around 4 in the afternoon after doing all the chores since the two days given by the school— for sure— would be long enough to finish all my tasks.

I started in my room. I rearranged all my stuff from my books, shoes, clothes, and painted and empty canvases stored on the side since I've seen in an article that a clean environment boosts mental health. I relocated my study table on the east side, near the window where I can see the full view of the grassy lawn and the road in front of the house.

I changed my sheets and pillowcases and then went downstairs to the laundry area to wash all of Dad's and my dirty clothes. I checked the washing machine and see that it was working again. Glad I won't have to do these dirty clothes by hand. The rest of the housework requires an extreme amount of bleach and soaps, and I need to buy them because we've already run out of supplies.

I had two cup-noodles for lunch since I was too busy with all the laundry; I don't have the time and energy to cook a proper meal for myself. Luckily, I finished the laundry thirty-three minutes after 3 in the afternoon; I had the time to rest for a while before taking a bath and leaving to go grocery shopping around 4:30. I need to buy groceries, or I would starve to death in this hell— which is the last thing I would ever choose. I am currently preparing to leave this place; I only have to make sure that before I do that, I'm sure that I'm ready.

The grocery store is a 15-minute walking distance from my house, and since I am not a rich kid who could afford to pay for a ride, I walked. Thankfully I brought my phone to save me from boredom as I took thousands of steps to the grocery store. However, what I saw on the internet made me realize that using my phone to pass the time while I walk is one of the thousand terrible decisions I have ever made in the 18 years of my life.

I saw a familiar face on a not-so-popular article written by a local journalist, and upon reading the title pasted above a picture of him and his niece, side by side, I stopped walking.

[Sta. Rosa City Police arrested a 43-year-old tricycle driver from Bgy. Dita, after medico-legal, revealed the cause of death of his 8-year-old niece.]

I'm from Dita, and the suspect in the news article is the tricycle driver who frequently drops me off at school. His name's Cesar Ambrocio, and he's known to be a goofy yet kind-hearted guy. He's humble and polite, and nobody thought he could do such a horrible thing to his family. He killed his niece by letting her drown in the river after sexually abusing her. He disguised his crime as accidental death, but the truth has come to the surface.

I've seen his niece many times before since he drops her off at school every day. Whenever I would pay for a ride to Elton High School, I would see his niece with him. They looked pretty close, and his niece seemed fond of him. Hence, this article almost didn't make any sense until I saw this line, "...The suspect, Cesar Ambrocio, is currently on the run, that's why the Sta. Rosa City police ask anyone who could report any lead to help catch the suspect."

I turned my phone off and let my right hand fall to my side. How could that man call himself human?

I brushed my hair backward and sighed. There's no point in getting mad over a news article.

I abhor his kind. I loathe all sex offenders, and there's no way I would ever forgive anyone who did the same horrible thing I had experienced to any other girls, especially to young kids who are way more powerless than me.

When I was about to take a step to continue walking to the grocery store, my eyes landed on someone with neatly styled bronze hair standing eight meters away from me, staring at me, and he seemed to be watching me the whole time while I stood here. He's wearing shiny, black leather shoes and a blue uniform. The Glock 40 caliber pistol on his rigged belt and the badge in his blue uniform scream authority, which had me thinking about anything I did wrong to receive such a look from a police officer.

I blinked two times before looking round to see if anyone was behind or near me, but when I found no one, I confirmed that he was indeed looking at me. I bit my lower lip as I nervously took a step forward and attempted to walk past him but stopped after hearing my name.

"Miss Faye Nase," his voice was low yet gentle. "May I have a word with you?"