SONG RECOMNDATION — KATY PERRY —ROAR
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Earlier, on the other side of the city, Jessa tried many tis to reach Sara, but her calls were not going through, and Jessa had to drive to Sara’s apartnt.
She knocked on the door many tis, but there was no response. It was still early, even though Sara had left for work, she could still pick so personal calls, and there were still a few minutes left before working hours. This worried her a lot more because she had attempted calling her as early as she had ended the call with Bernice in the morning, but there was no reply just like now.
"What happened to you, Sara?" Jessa muttered to herself. Rummaging through her bag, she found the spare key Sara had given her...She demanded for the key, and Sara was "more than happy" to give it to her.
Placing the need into the keyhole, she unlocked the door and made her way inside, and her frown deepened. Nothing seed amiss. Everything was neatly arranged, and this was a red flag to Jessa, who knew her best friend well enough to know that there was never a ti when sothing was not out of place.
Sure, Sara was sort of a clean freak, tidying up a lot. But there was always sothing left undone as if to give her reason to do so work when she was less busy or had nothing to do. Perhaps maybe a throw pillow could be left out of place intentionally or sothing along the line, but this...? No.
Walking towards the room, Jessa called, "Sara... you in there?" She asked, taking careful steps to the door. She twisted the handle, and it opened up, but sothing caught her eyes. The fra was... she examined it again.
"A stone or...a bullet," she said, and fear crept into her. She knew exactly what a scratch caused by a bullet looks like. It was too smooth to have been a stone. With what Sara told them the other day, she feared that the worst had happened.
Taking her phone again, she repeatedly called Sara’s number, but the outco was the sa. Was she too late? "No... I can’t be," Jessa uttered in denial, but she never stopped trying and hoping that the call would connect.
And just as she had hoped, the next connected, but the voice she heard was not one she had expected to hear. A man’s voice.
"Hello?" the man said, causing Jessa to valley her fist.
Jessa wanted to scream into the phone and demand where her friend was, but she held back her voice, took a deep breath, and asked calmly,
"Who is this?" There was a pause on the other side before she heard the man speak. But her patience was growing thin.
"Give a mont..." but he was interrupted by Jessa.
"Where is the owner of the phone?" she asked with desperation in her tone even though she tried to keep it hidden.
"She is unable to answer your calls now, but I’ll give it to soone who can. I believe he will explain things better to you," the man said, and Jessa heard him open and close a door, followed by the sound of his hurried footsteps.
Jessa refused to hang up and keot the call going. Her heart raced with each step that he took, and although it was less than a minute until he spoke again, Jessa felt that ages had passed just within those few seconds.
"Is the boss free now?" The man asked soone whose voice Sara couldn’t hear, but she did hear murmurs. "I found Madam’s phone earlier, and her friend is calling,"the man said.
Each word he said caused the crease on Jessa’s brows to deepen. Who was their madam, and who was the boss he spoke off?
"I will take it to him," a lady’s voice was heard, and Jessa assud she was the person he was talking to.
A while later the woman was knocking on another door. "Young Master," she called and Jessa frowned again. Just what was going on? "Max found Madam’s phone and..." the door opened and both Jessa and the woman sighed in relief.
"You may leave," a deep yet familiar voice was heard causing Jessa to strain her ear just a little so she could ascertain whether she heard it right.
"Miss Winters," Jessa heard her na being called and beca startled.
"Who... who am I talking to? Where is Sara?" She asked imdiately she got herself back together.
"Sara is fine but can’t speak to you now," he replied while she tried to put a face to the voice. But no matter how hard she tried, it reminded a mystery to her.
"Where are you then? I am coming to see her," Jessa seed a bit calm. Whoever he was, he didn’t seem to have I’ll intentions.
"Opulent Oaks. I believe you know where that is?"
Jessa was stunned but then, she quickly nodded. "Yes, I’ll be there soon," she replied hung up. She walked out of the apartnt but not forgetting to lock the door behind her.
Whoever had Sara right now was loaded. For as far as she knew, there was only one building there in all of Amberfell with that na. She got into her car and drove off.
°°°
Sara didn’t know how long she had been asleep or even where she was at the mont, but she found herself standing before a scene she was very familiar with but fhad forced herself to forget.
Before them was a woman who could be said to be the spitting image of herself. The woman held a smaller version of her, shielding her from a stranger pointing a gun at them. Fear was evident in the eyes of the woman but she never let go of her little daughter. Not even when she fell on her knees begging the strange man.
"Just let us go, please. They will never see us again, I promise you that," she earnestly pleaded but only received a sinister smirk from the man.
"It her we are her for. Once she is gone, it won’t matter whether you live or die," the man with the gun had said and directed the gun to the child she was desperately trying to hide behind her back in an attempt to protect her.
"Mum," Sara whispered as she stared at the woman and her younger self. She felt her heary constrict painfully as the event tha was about to unfold resurface in her mind. Before the man could pull the trigger, Sara found herself standing between the man and her mother but the bullet whisked through like she was air.
But the pain in her heart only amplified itself. Hearing her mother and her younger self scream and then falling to the ground with a loud thud, her heart stopped beating. Just like it did that day. And the only reason why she was still alive now.
Her body went still long before her mother’s. She was drenched in a pull of blood, seeing ut now, it looked as though ut was her own blood unknown to the man that it was Shelly’s blood. She had taken the shot just at the very last second before it could co in contact with her.
"It’s okay, you’ll be fine," Sara heard her mother whisper. She never heard these words before because she couldn’t. But standing here now and watching everything unfold again....
The man approached them, taking deliberately slow steps and when he heard the woman’s words to her unconscious child, he laughed in moockery and then rcilessly shot her the second ti. The bullet went through her head. He even waited until she lost consciousness before he left. Withdrawing into the shadows and disappearing like the wind without a trace.
Sara couldn’t help the tear that trailed down her cheeks. This was a mory that had scarred her and left a permanent imprint in her very soul.
It wasn’t long until little Sara woke up to the biggest frieght if her life.
Her mother’s body was cold and her eyes that were still open, stared at her blankly. There was no heartbeat and no response from her no matter how much she cried, shook or pulled at her.
"Mum.... Mum...," she scread that na like her life depended on it but still nothing changed.
°
Sara opened her eyes and found herself back the sa room, but her eyes were filled with tears, both she’d and unshed tears. Thay incident had traumatized her.
No child would see its parent in thay state and remain unaffected and she was no different. The sight of blood. Her mother’s pale, cold and lifeless body. And those hollow eyes. Eyes that used to be filled with warmth, stared at her blankly.
These were mories she had forced herself to forget and that was how she overca her trauma. Forgetting everything about it and all that tied to it, before and after it happened, she forgot it all.
But this experience had triggered that again and it was back to haunting her dream just as it did it the past.
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