[Past Eric Luster POV.]
"Mngh," I groggily rubbed my eyes as I reluctantly climbed out of bed. The alarm had been blaring incessantly, and I swiftly silenced it. I made my way to the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, and began my morning routine, scrubbing away the remnants of sleep. A quick shower followed, invigorating my senses and preparing for the day ahead.
In a rush, I picked out my clothes, determined not to be late for school. But before I left my room, I couldn't help but steal a glance at the shelf adorned with trophies.
"Man, I need just one more to fill that entire shelf," I mused with a grin. Martial arts had been my passion for as long as I could rember, and I had devoted countless hours to honing my skills. I even competed at the national level, proud of my accomplishnts.
"Eric! Hurry up, you'll be late for school! Jasmine is already waiting downstairs," my mom's firm voice echoed through the house, urging to move faster. With a burst of energy, I sprinted out of my room, excitent and anticipation filling my heart.
....
"Good morning!" I greeted cheerfully as I entered the living room, finding everyone already gathered there. My mom, dad, and Jasmine were all waiting, sharing warm smiles.
Yes, my parents knew about Jasmine and the special bond we shared. They were incredibly supportive of our relationship, which ant the world to us.
My dad, a journalist at a prestigious TV channel, and my mother, a dedicated housewife, were exceptional parents. They had always been there for , despite my knack for getting into trouble. I loved them dearly, and I knew they felt the sa.
"Eric, I swear if you make late for school again, you owe an ice cream treat," Jasmine pouted playfully, earning a giggle from my mom.
"Mom, can you believe she's extorting money from your own son?" I protested, feigning an offended expression.
"So what if she is? It's your own fault, don't bla Jasmine," my mom playfully scolded, embracing Jasmine affectionately. A smug expression danced on Jasmine's face, reveling in her victory.
She had beco more like a daughter to my parents than I was a son. With a playful huff, I took my seat at the table and indulged in the delicious breakfast my mom had prepared. Although, between you and , my dad was the true culinary master in the family. It was an unspoken truth because ntioning my mom's cooking skills often led to hurt feelings and sulking. They say my talent for sulking cos from my mom, and I couldn't deny the resemblance.
As I savored the al, I couldn't help but feel imnse gratitude for my loving family and the joy that Jasmine brought into my life. It was monts like these that made realize how blessed I truly was.
As we made our way to school, walking side by side, I couldn't help but notice the occasional glances from people passing by. It was a common occurrence whenever Jasmine and I were together.
"Looks like they're gazing at you again," I chuckled, my voice overlapping with Jasmine's.
"Huh?" she responded, equally puzzled by the situation.
"Huh?" I echoed, mirroring her confusion.
We burst into laughter, realizing our simultaneous reaction. It was a lighthearted mont, a testant to the synchronicity we shared. With smiles on our faces, we continued our journey to school, unaffected by the curious gazes of others.
"Hey, tomorrow is a holiday, right?" Jasmine asked, and I nodded, understanding her signal.
"So, we're bunking school today, huh?" I said, and Jasmine flashed a playful smile, pulling along towards the hotel.
"We can't do it when our parents are ho, right? And since tomorrow is a holiday, it won't be a problem if we have a little more ti for ourselves," she explained, her eyes filled with mischief.
...
Standing in the small hotel room, facing Jasmine, my heart swelled with a mixture of nervousness and affection. Taking a deep breath, I gazed into her eyes and spoke, letting my emotions guide my words.
"Jasmine," I began, my voice tinged with vulnerability,
Jasmine's smile softened, her eyes filled with understanding. She reached out, delicately taking hold of my hand, her touch providing reassurance.
"Jasmine, I love you," I whispered, my voice brimming with sincerity.
In a soft, heartfelt whisper, her breath mingling with mine, she replied, "I love you too, Eric. With all my heart." Jasmine's lips brushed against mine, sealing our love with a tender kiss.
And after that, the whole damn room was filled with the noise of constant moaning for a continuous four hours. It's shaful to admit, but we were at it like so beasts.
I Wish everything stays like this forever.
....
[One Month Later.]
"Eric, take care. If you need anything, know that Uncle is always there for you," the person at the door said, and I simply nodded, feeling the emptiness of his words.
What does he an by "uncle"? I've never t him before when my parents were here.
I closed the door behind , the echoes of the departing relatives fading away. So of them had even offered to take in and start afresh, but I declined their offers. I couldn't simply start over.
Walking into the now-empty house, I couldn't help but feel like my life had unraveled within a matter of days. Everything had fallen apart, and my world had been snatched away from .
The faces of those individuals still haunted my mory, etched deep within.
Entering the living room, I noticed a bottle of wine displayed in the glass cabinet. It was an expensive wine that my father used to enjoy on happier occasions.
"What's the use of it now? Anyway..." I approached the glass cabinet and took out the wine bottle.
I held the wine bottle in my hand, feeling its weight and the mories it carried. It was a bitter reminder of the happiness that once resided within these walls. With a mix of sadness and defiance, I made my way to the kitchen and searched for a corkscrew.
As I uncorked the bottle, a subtle aroma filled the air, mingling with the scent of loss and solitude. Pouring myself a glass, I stared out the window, the world beyond seeming distant and detached. The liquid swirled in the glass, reflecting the dim light that perated the room.
Taking a sip, the rich flavors danced on my tongue, montarily transporting to a ti when laughter echoed through these halls. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste, and allowed myself to reminisce. mories of family gatherings, joyful conversations, and the warmth of their presence flooded my mind.
But as quickly as the mories surfaced, they were overtaken by the harsh reality of the present. The emptiness of the house surrounded , reminding of their absence, and the weight of grief settled upon my shoulders once more.
Placing the entire bottle to my lips, I downed its contents in one gulp. The fiery liquid burned its way down my throat, a bitter reminder of my pain. I knew my mother would have been disappointed if she had seen resorting to this kind of self-destructive behavior.
With a forceful grip, I crushed the empty bottle in my hand, the sound of shattered glass echoing in the empty room. It felt oddly satisfying, a release of pent-up frustration and anger. I reached for another bottle, this ti opting for a cheaper variety.
I continued to drown my sorrows, one bottle after another. The alcohol provided a temporary escape, numbing my senses and blurring the harsh reality that surrounded . Each sip brought a fleeting mont of relief, but it was an illusion that evaporated as quickly as it appeared.
But as the empty bottles piled up, so did the heaviness in my heart. The alcohol couldn't erase the pain, nor could it fill the void left by my loss. It only served to amplify the emptiness, leaving feeling even more hollow and lost.
The police have already initiated their investigation and are assuring to remain hopeful, promising to catch the murderer swiftly. However, I find it difficult to place my trust in their words.
They claim to be on my side, but a nagging doubt lingers in my mind—are they also susceptible to bribery and corruption? Can I truly rely on them to bring justice to those who have taken everything from ?
Ain't that the reason I picked up the gun?
*Ding.*
A notification flashed on my phone screen, revealing nurous unread text ssages. Among them were ssages from my loved ones, including those from the person who holds a special place in my heart.
I haven't t Jasmine since the funeral of my parents and I was also busy with a lot of stuff too.
Each ssage is a reminder of the connections I have, the relationships I cherish, and the support that surrounds .
"?" I glanced at a ssage from an unknown number, the content intriguing and puzzling .
[Surprise! There's a package waiting for you on your doorstep, sothing you truly deserve after everything you've done for us. Go take a look.]
I was suspicious about it so I grabbed my gun and cautiously walked towards the door, opening the door and I saw a Big package.
*Creak*
There, on the doorstep, was a beautifully wrapped package adorned with a ribbon. Its presence beckoned , urging to approach. With trepidation, I slowly untied the ribbon and peeled back the wrapping paper.
And then, my world shattered.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" I scread, my voice echoing through the air. Inside the package, I discovered a severed head. Ti seed to stand still as my body crumbled, my back hitting the ground, my face drained of all color. The sight before was beyond comprehension, a horrifying reality that shattered my sanity.
"J-jasmine?!" I stamred, my mind struggling to grasp the unimaginable. The severed head belonged to Jasmine, the love of my life. The shock and despair overwheld , leaving paralyzed and filled with a profound sense of loss.
More Of Them Are Going Down Now.
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[Present.]
"Hey, Eric! Look at ," Jasmine pouted, playfully trying to capture my attention.
I turned my gaze towards her, my eyes eting hers, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of my lips.
Yeah,She's here... right besides .
Everything will be fine.
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