Leashed

Chapter 10

There are different types of men in the world, but generally, they can just be either good or bad, and Neoma was trying to figure out which type the man squatting before her was.

“Hey, woman. I’m asking you who the hell you are and why you are here. The least you can do is respond.” Obviously, this stranger was no-nonsense, and he clearly doesn’t welcome the chance to dilly-dally.

She, nevertheless, was trying to make out how he looked because he was wearing a mask and a navy blue cap. The room was dim, but she was sure that he has a pair of killer eyes—the kind that’s usually intimidating—that was glaring at her because she was evaluating him from head to toe. He is downright intimidating alright, but she deemed that he isn’t the type to sexually assault defenseless women; he could have done that earlier while she was unconscious, especially that she carelessly left the door unlocked.

The man’s shirt didn’t conceal his physique. She concluded that his shoulders are less broad than Ohm’s, and less toned than he is. Also, he is slightly taller than Sol (about a few centimeters).

“Are you perhaps deaf?”

She saw him raise his brow, and he sounded irritated.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not entitled to tell you,” she snobbishly said.

His eyes squinted, hinting a smile—a fake one. “Well then, Miss ‘Not entitled,’ newsflash: you’re not allowed in here.”

She knotted her forehead and scoffed. “And who are you tell me that? From the looks of it, I think you’re also just an intruder in this house.”

“But I came here first, so leave.”

“Aha! You just said it yourself, so you have no right to kick me out of here. I’m staying! I need this house to sleep for the night.”

Neoma then did not expect how abruptly he grabbed her only backpack and threw it outside.

“Asshole! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Ignoring the profanities hurled at him, he proceeded to dispose of the angry woman. She shrieked when he grabbed her slender thighs and hung her over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

“Put me down, you freak!” She repetitively bashed his back, but he remained quiet. She caught a glimpse of the night sky before she realized that she was flung with her bottom first to the ground outside.

“Hey, you can’t do this to me! I—” Yet she was late to reason to him since he had already closed the door to her face.

Her livid yelling lasted for several minutes, and the guy just tuned it out until it died down along with her constant slamming of the door. By that point, he had cooked dinner for himself.

He removed his mask, revealing a roman nose and a narrow mouth. He isn’t innately apathetic but he had a reason for warding off the woman unknown to him. He didn’t want any company. He’s afraid that one of these days, someone might unmask him and determine who he is. For the past months, he had successfully concealed his identity and had temporarily outrun the people after him.

Still, a pang of conscience struck him, especially after replaying over his head that she needed this place to stay for the night. He had been staying in this unfinished structure for more than three weeks, so he was startled when he found a sleeping stranger in the unpolished kitchen.

He saw that it was a woman—a rivetingly beautiful one at that—when he lighted a candle to confirm how she looked. To him, she is fine alright, and he sensed that she’s from a well-off family. More than her appearance which he majorly disregarded, he saw that she was crying as she talked in her sleep. He heard her say “Come back, Sol. I need you to kill these people for me.”

There were three questions that ran through his mind: who is this woman? Who is this guy named Sol? And who are the people whom she wants him to kill? Then, he quickly realized that he need not know, for those were all none of his business. This woman was intriguing, but there was a hint of trouble partnered with her, and that was when he woke her up.

“Ugh, damn it.” He scratched his head; he felt guilty for forcing her out. Nevertheless, again, she’s none of his concern.

Neoma had forgotten how many curses she uttered towards the despicable man who denied him access to a considerably comfortable place she could rest for tonight. Her current location was unfamiliar to her. She had nowhere to go; her hoodie wasn’t helping her a lot with ridding off the cold of the evening, and she was hungry. To her, it was that guy’s fault for waking her up when she could have buried her hunger deep into her dreams. If she somehow survives and regains all her possessions, she will never forget that man and hunt him down to bestow upon him torture. She will let him experience hunger ten times than what she felt this time. Scratch that, she will murder him the instant their paths cross again in the future. There was nothing else on her mind but revenge towards that guy; it was mainly for the reason that she was staving off hunger by diverting her attention onto something else. She was eminently attentive to it that she failed to spot the presence of drunkards she barely just passed by, annoying the domain of a sari-sari store.

One of them called her. “Hey! Come drink with us.”

She realized that she had come as far as a suburban neighborhood, and glancing at her watch, it was already more than half an hour past ten. Majority of the residents were already tucked in their beds while she was in the midst of getting harassed by a bunch of grown men who reek of alcohol.

She, of course, chose to ignore them.

“What a snob! Hey!” She heard someone from them say followed by another—the store owner. “Knock it off, will you? The person’s just walking by.”

“Oh, come on. We’re just trying to ask her why she’s still strolling around here when it’s this late.”

They sounded insistent, and this was bad news. She hastened her steps but halted when her hood was torn and her ball cap was taken away.

“Let us have a look at your—” The one who pranked her stopped his statement midway.

Her hair dramatically flowed down to her back and in its bare glory, her face was in a pellucid view. The laughing ceased, and the playful remarks paused. Seemingly, they turned sober when they ogled at her. One of them even whistled in awe.

One of the difficulties of being as fetching as a goddess is the inability to ward off unwanted enthrallment. This, she had been dealing her entire life.

“Give that back!” She angrily pertained to her cap, and this triggered them back to their playfulness.

“Oh no, you don’t!” The guy evaded it and aimed to infuriate her even more.

One thing then led to another when Neoma slapped him square in the face. This drive of hers switched on their intrigue towards her. The five men now wanted to witness for themselves how to nullify her feistiness.

“Stop this, alright? Give her a break.” The store owner tried to stop them, but was quieted by a bark of warning from the drunkards.

“Stay away from this if you don’t want your store destroyed.”

It didn’t take a genius for Neoma to decide to get away from them immediately. Quickly taking off her backpack to run light, she dashed immediately the best that she could.

“Sol!” She unconsciously shouted but remembered that he wasn’t there to help her.

However fast she thought she ran, she was still hungry and tired, and this took a toll on her speed, and they caught up to her. With her remaining ounce of energy, she charged on one of them and used her nails to scrape his face. He yelped as he felt the sting on his face, but one of his companions slugged her gut. She squalled then staggered and was punched again on the same spot. Two of them then claimed her arms and another two lifted her feet. They then brought and made her lie down a grassy empty lot.

The pain on her abdomen was too much that she couldn’t make out any sound; she was close to blacking out while she heard them rip off her jacket.

“Sol,” she said and it was nearly inaudible.

A tear rolled down her temple. She wasn’t crying because she was about to be r***d, but because Sol wasn’t there to save her. Before she closed her eyes, however, there was a thud, and she saw one of those who wanted to assault her jarringly drop down beside her.

It was just a dream, but it sounded so real, so near and so demanding. In there, Neoma was yelling for help, calling his name countless times, but he couldn’t be there for her. He couldn’t breach through the walls of the small space that he was forcefully confined in.

He had been tricked, and he likened himself to that of a fool who was swayed by the words of his manipulative employer. He regretted not following his gut and not realizing sooner that he was sent here not for a business deal but only to be severed from his mistress.

His hands and feet were tied to a chair, and he was locked up to starve, to weaken and to be docile. The minutest of his movements were monitored day and night by two guards in black suits. He is only given a meal once a day at inconsistent times and by the same Filipina who always smelled like the sun. He didn’t know his specific location here in Hong Kong, but he could hear the faint noise of machines. He surmised that he may be inside a factory. Right this point, nonetheless, he was sure that he’ll be able to get out of here after forty-two days of confinement.

They didn’t even need to cover his mouth with anything because he hadn’t even uttered a single word since the first day he was subdued. On the other hand, they had to cover his eyes; he would always look at them vehemently that they felt the need to ensconce them. These two are Filipinos who are based in Hong Kong but are under the payroll of Wile Belmonte. Both of them had heard of the monstrous puissance of Sol, the self-proclaimed dog of their young mistress; that’s why they make sure he doesn’t get the chance to go berserk and escape.

Sol wasn’t allowed to eat using his hands; he had to be spoon fed by the server assigned to him. Given to him this time were a mug of hot coffee and a light meal consisting of a cup of rice and a single fried fish. They did not take off his blindfold, and the woman had to guide his mouth. It was then when he requested for coffee that things took a drastic turn.

The woman held the mug towards his mouth as he bowed his head and rammed it. Much of the hot liquid spilled and slightly burned her hand.

“Aaah!” She shrieked.

The two guards immediately pointed their guns at him. “What are you doing?!”

“Stay still!”

He felt the aching on the top of his head yet proceeded to make it seem like an accident. “Oh, I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright,” she told him while pouring a glass of cold water to the burn.

“If you don’t mind,” Sol then said, “I’d like to drink what remains of the coffee myself.”

“Hell no!” Protest one of the guards.

“Come on, cut us some slack. Ate’s hand here is hurt.”

“Ate” is an honorific for older sisters and can also be used as a respectful address to older women not related by blood to you.

“Regardless of her hand’s condition, that’s her job,” the other guard supported.

“Fine, then I won’t be eating!”

“Then don’t! You’re trying to scare us, huh!”

“Well, who’s scaring who here? If you let me starve to death right here, right now, think of the consequences that will befall on you both. Remember that though I’m imprisoned here, I’m still an important asset to the Belmonte Conglomerate.”

The two guards looked at each other and back to their prisoner. They realize that he actually has a point. This was their heiress’ driver-bodyguard after all.

“If you so insist anyway, why don’t one of you guards feed me?” Sol uttered suggestively.

Both of them were disgusted. This disgust was supplemented by thinking of the rumor that their heiress’ dog has homosexual tendencies (which, of course, wasn’t true).

One of them spat on the floor. “Gross.”

The guards didn’t have any choice anymore but to unbound his hands; however, they wanted the blindfold to remain.

“How am I supposed to eat if I can’t see my food?”

Both of them grunted. “That’s your problem!”

The Filipina sided with Sol not because she was attracted to him but because it was the reasonable thing to do. “Come on, boys.” And she reached out to remove the cloth covering his eyes.

As soon as he adjusted his vision, he registered the details in front of him. The spoon and fork provided had to be plastic. The plate had to be disposable but his mug was made of glass. The guards were still pointing their guns at him while the woman before her was smiling like she wanted to look cute. Utilizing their proximity, he grabbed her by the nape and kissed her on the lips. All of their eyes widened especially when he placed both of his hands on her neck and squeezed it tight.

“Hey! Stop that! You’re hurting her.” A guard instantly approached her.

Taking advantage of their disorientation, he grabbed the mug and then used it to overcome the man who tried to stop him while he was still gripping the woman’s neck. He smashed it on his hand which was holding a gun first then to his head where he heard something cracked. The other guard decided to shoot him, but he shielded himself with the woman’s body, and she got shot instead.

He thrust the dead woman’s body towards the guard. The latter dodged but was horrified to meet a metal table hurled directly to his face. Sol carried himself carefully towards the guard whose head he assaulted with a mug and picked up his gun. He shot the locks on the chains on his feet and freed himself. He massaged his feet and shook his head sideways, then pulled the trigger at the man who was about to shoot him from behind.

Sol made sure to leave one of the guards alive.

“Hey. Wake up.”

The guard stirred, and he wished he wasn’t assigned to him in the first place. “Y-Yes?”

“Do you happen to know where my passport is?”

The next day, he was already on a flight to Manila.

Cock-a-doodle-doo! c**k-a-doodle-doo! Cried the roosters from a distant.

She slowly opened her eyes, and these welcomed a familiar ceiling. She also whiffed the smell of fried sardines—something she’s not actually very fond of. Then, she later recognized the soreness in her abdomen; there was that searing pain which made her recall the unfortunate incident she got herself into. She charily got up as footsteps approached her.

“Hey. You alright?” It was the guy who rudely forced her to leave this house the night before. He was still wearing a face mask, but his jet black hair has been exposed.

She frowned at him and clenched her teeth. “How do you think I feel?”

He emitted a guilty look on his eyes. “Look, I did not wish for any of that to happen to you last night. I’m sorry.”

She wanted to lash at him even more, to curse him to her heart’s content but the pain in her stomach did not permit her. He noticed this, pulled something from his huge bag and offered it to her.

“Here—an ointment. Apply this to your bruises.”

She irately snatched the ointment from his hand and painstakingly lifted her shirt. He, on the other hand, just observed how pitiably she tried to medicate herself.

“What are you looking at?!” She angrily said.

He couldn’t bear the sight anymore and went to her. “Let me.”

Neoma was reluctant at first; she was still mad at him. Yet she was made to lie down on her back.

Bearing no malice, he raised her shirt up to her ribs and carefully rubbed the huge bruised section of her abdomen.

Poor woman. He thought. He saw that she trying her earnest to bear the pain. She was already on the verge of tears. He wondered how she got here and why she was here.

“Say, if you don’t mind, who are you really?”

Neoma took a while to retort. “Why do I have to tell you?”

The guy sighed. He concluded that she’s an awful lot to handle. “Well, I guess I deserve to know the name of the person I saved. And don’t I get a ‘Thank you’?”

She scoffed. “You don’t deserve my gratitude. For your information, it was your fault why I almost got raped.”

“Alright! Fine. Again, sorry. So much for asking your name.”

He wrapped up treating her as she said, “Carmina is my name.”

The guy looked at her intently. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not telling the truth?”

Of course, she lied.

“It’s up to you if you’ll believe it or not.”

“Whatever. So, ‘Carmina’ what brings you here in Cebu?”

“That doesn’t concern you any bit. And you? Who are you?”

The guy paused and turned his back on her. “To borrow your words, 'I’m not entitled to you.’ Anyway, I already ate. There’s still breakfast left for you.”

Neoma fought the urge to grab a stone and fling it at him. Good thing, she didn’t tell him who she really was. This guy was mysterious, and she had the feeling that behind that mask is a man with unspeakable secrets.

It was way past noon when Neoma decided to sniff some fresh air and hope that this would carry with its breeze the aching in her entire body. The stranger left her alone there and assured that he’s allowing her to stay until she’s recovered. She never planned to stay here long anyway. Considering the predicament she’s in, she needed to move from place to place. The problem was that she needed money for this.

Deep in her thoughts, she failed to notice someone taking pictures of her secretly. And little did she know that these will later lead to her capture.

“Good afternoon, Sir Ohm,” his staff said on the opposite line, “We have confirmed that Miss Neoma is still in Cebu.”

“And?”

“She’s in Carcar, Sir.”

Ohm grinned. “Found you, Neoma.”

The evening won’t be quiet for a while—not on the twenty-fourth of December which she failed to keep in mind. Given her circumstances, she had forgotten that it was the night before Christmas. The sound of horns, the rampage of firecrackers, and the display of fireworks combined to remind Neoma her disconsolate condition. It isn’t the first time that she had to gloomily pay attention to all of these; it is the same as the several years before this, especially after her mother and father separated. This was supposed to commemorate the birth of Jesus; whereas, she felt that it’s an occurrence for her to be simply envious. She is full of envy towards families who get together for Noche Buena. She is drowning in envy towards parents who actually aren’t as cruel as hers. Tears warned to spill from her eyes, but she held these in. She won’t allow absurd emotions to take over her anymore. Usually in this occasion, there was only one person who tried his best to console her: Sol. He would usually hide this behind his sleazy remarks, and now that he was still at another side of the world, he worried how she felt at this moment.

“Neoma.”

She turned around as she thought she heard Sol call her, yet there was no one but a dying candle which should be replaced by her fellow illegal resident who still did not return. Thankfully, he left her something to eat.

She wondered if the stranger left to spend Christmas somewhere; on the contrary, basing on her conjecture, he might be doing something else far different.

He kept himself in a far dark corner. Ensconced in the shadows, he glared at the rambunctious group of people several feet from him. In this distance, he could clearly see the person whom he had long wanted to approach. He composed himself. He was shaking not because of anything but of madness. He was livid. His hand ached as he pulled a sharp knife out of the pocket of his jacket. He felt excited as he imagined slitting their throats.

The woman named Carmina, he thought, shouldn’t really know who he really is, for she might regret meeting a murderer.