20 Gun, Knives, Rope

May 2, 2013

8:39 am

Christine Romulo

"Margaret, are you in there? Will you let me in?"

Day 6. I have been knocking on her door for days now, and yet she will not let me in. A part of me thinks that she will never let me in, but that never broke my hope. She will come out of there. I pray she will. Once more, I put a tray of food for her to take just in case she gets hungry.

"She's still not coming out, isn't she?"

I look behind me, and, of course, the devil himself – father.

"What did you expect?" I say back tartly. "Did you expect that she will be fine all of a sudden despite the fact that you told her that her whole life is a lie?"

In this moment of his daughter's pain, all he could do is show the true colors he always had all his life – a sadistic misogynist who never cares for the sake of his family. What a great father indeed! He could even smile at my words. "No, but you are certainly dealing with the pain of the truth better than her," he says back. "And that's because you are my daughter. You handle your emotions so well that you are still seeing that Macedo boy."

His words. My eyes widen at what he said. "How did you – "

"Call it connections, my dear. You will learn once you finally inherit my millions."

And with that, he just leaves with a smirk on his face. How did he know about him? I have never told anyone. Unless… Of course, the smug of a man that always has a strange reaction to when I see Mateo – Morris.

I can't believe that all along he is my father's spy! Of course, it all fits perfectly. How come he is friends with Margaret? How come I have never realized that man's odd knowledge of who I am? Most of all, how come I see him everywhere whenever I go around town? It couldn't be anymore probable.

Well, if he is going to spy on me on my father's behalf, I'll let him have the show of his life.

*

"Margaret, are you in there? Will you let me in?"

Noon. As I was about to put another tray of food for her, I saw that she has not even touched the food I left her earlier. I knock on her door again. Of course, she will not say anything. She has not been talking with me for days.

Oddly enough, I hear once more the soft chimes of ringing. Her phone is ringing from the inside. Maybe she just wants to be alone, but this is getting far too suspicious.

"Margaret, please come and eat," I say as I knock the door again. "You need some food."

Again, she's not answering. The ringing phone does not even seem to end. In her silence, I feel a strange feeling within me. It was as if a bullet had come upon me for what is going on. Why is she silent?

All of a sudden, from the grand lobby, I hear some argument going on. I look down from the halls of the second floor to see what's going on.

"Well, I am missing some stuff from the kitchen too," my maid answers back.

"I wouldn't touch the kitchen in a million years lest I suffer the wrath of Mister Romulo," the gardener says back. "You should know your workplace as I do, but some things are also missing from me!"

What the hell is going on now? Why is the staff arguing? Three of the staff – a maid, a gardener, and even Mister Bautista are all circled amongst themselves pointing fingers as if to accuse of various crimes. Dear god. What is it this time? Usually, it will be Louis who will deal with these problems, but in this, he is the one who is involved?

Where is mother to deal with this shithole?

"How do you not know where it is?" Mister Bautista exclaims. "It is your job to know that."

Oh, great. Another problem to deal with. I go down the staircase to deal with another shithole. Just with the sound of my clattering heels, they all fall to silence. They know who I am. I do not need to intimidate them by my nagging screams. Screaming is for the ones who are weak and do not know how to impose authority. It is a defense mechanism, not a way to show authority.

"What is going on here?" I ask as calmly as possible.

"Miss Christine, it is nothing," my maid says in her defense. "It's just that we misplaced a couple of things around the household. Worry not. We'll fix this right away."

"Oh, really, it is nothing? Then why are you arguing like fishwives over 'a couple of things.' It sounds like it is more than a couple. It could be a hundred."

They all look guiltily at me. They just hang their heads in shame as if I had said the truth. "Or is it just indeed a couple of things but it is worth hundreds?"

Still, none of them could answer properly. The maid and the gardener just look at Louis as if to ask for help. As he realizes that he will be the bait, he sighs and takes the bullet for them. "Christine, here's what actually happened," Mister Bautista finally explains. "Your father wanted to go shooting earlier, but a gun in the cellar is missing. And here, Bethany, the maid, is missing a couple of knives from the kitchen."

"Also, some ropes from the garden," the gardener continues. "Hey, you might think ropes are cheap, but my ropes are special. It has its own… special use, Miss Christine"

Even in these situations, he shows some kind of intention. He even said that with a wink of an eye. I'm going to pretend I do not understand that context for the sake of finishing this argument. "Well if none of you knows where your stuff is, who would? I mean what kind of person would go in the mansion to steal a gun, a couple of knives, and ropes."

Then it hit me. The silence. Not touching the food. No lights in the room. Continuous ringing of the phone.

Oh, my god. Margaret!

*

"Margaret, I'll open the door. I hope it's alright with you."

Still, at this moment, I could here the soft chimes of ringing from her phone. I asked Mister Bautista for the keys. A foot away from me, there are my maid and the gardener waiting anxiously. In a fit of hurry, Mister Bautista hands me the keys while panting hardly.

"Here you go, Christine," he says with short breaths. "I just hope Margaret is still fine."

I cannot answer that question. As I unlock the door, I can feel some hesitation within myself. It's like I know what's going to happen even though I have not seen it yet. I slowly turn the key of her door. When I open her door, all I can see is darkness.

Mister Bautista wants to come in with me, but I urge him (and the maid and gardener) to stay outside. In this darkness, I see no Margaret. By the door, her phone is still ringing with the soft chimes. There goes the contact head once more – Edward. The ringing goes on like no tomorrow. When the rings end, I see that there are about a hundred missed calls from that same man. There was another person calling that I do not recognize, but it only has half of that number.

On the floor, I see scattered jewels everywhere. Even clothes are flung here and there. Some of them are even torn to shreds. On one corner, there are Margaret's medical textbooks all messed up. It is unlike her to be this disorganized. This is not Margaret. This is another person.

As I look around, I smell something. That faint irony smell like that of rusting is as close as I can describe it. If there is one word that can truly describe what that smell is, it would have to be this horrible thing – blood. I smell blood in the air.

As I realize this, I feel my heart stop for a second or two. I even felt my hand letting go of the keys in my hand.

"Margaret? Where are you?"

Yes, in this darkness, I cannot see where she is. Then, I see that by the balcony of her room, the curtains covering the doors is blowing away. I turn the curtains to the side, and there she is. She sits with her knees folded together as she looks out into the balcony. In front of her is the missing things from the staff – guns, knives, rope.

She sits blankly as if life had already taken her away from me. She holds her wrist tightly as if blood is coming through from there.

"I tried saying goodbye," she says quietly. "I can't do it. Even when life seems worthless, I still can't bear to kill myself."

She lets out a single tear as she says those words. Her pain is my pain for she is my sister. Never mind blood relation. We are still sisters. I sit beside her and take her into my arms. She holds onto my arms tightly as if she would never let it go.

"I'm sorry, Margaret," I say to her gently. "It is my fault that you are feeling this. If only I – "

"Choosing that I marry another for your sake is not a sacrifice as father had said," she interrupts. "I did it because I know you will not take it easily. But, even though I have felt many things in my life, I still cannot accept that I am not my parents' daughter."

"You are their daughter. They raised you like one. You are theirs by law, and even though the law may be bent, a bond will never break, even if this family is a shithole."

Finally, I have once more made her laugh. As she holds on to my arms, I feel some of her blood spill onto my arms. I decided not to say a word for support is all she needs, not reprimand. "Yeah, this family is indeed a disaster," Margaret replies. "There's our misogynist father and submissive mother. And then, there's you."

I just let out a laugh under my breath. "As father would say, I am the whore."

"Yeah, and I'm the worthless junk."

As she says those words, I feel her tears raining down on my arms once more. I did what she did before. I comb through her hair with my fingers to brush her pains away. "You are not worthless, Margaret. Our father is just a misogynist devil. He can go to hell with his words."

From a distance, I hear the soft chimes of her ringing phone. Right, there's the unceasing call. What a faithful man indeed. I have never seen such constancy. How can he keep calling Margaret for hundreds of times? Is this true love? I may never know yet in my life, but as this is the man, other than me, that could help him, I wish that she would just answer the call.

"I think you should see Edward," I continue. "You need him right now, and he needs you."