Siren of Julio Santayana: A Dark Revenge Romance ENGLISH

Chapter 5

Julio Santayana

That was the name on the several cards she saw in the leather wallet. Mostly VIPs. Either made of platinum, gold, or black, Siren knew she found a great jackpot. But there’s no ID. Just the mere name of someone ‘Julio Santayana’ engraved on the cards. No ID with his pictures or other identities. A driver’s license or anything of that sort. There’s even a VIP card to a 4Play, which she assumed is a clubhouse since it has the same look and description in the back like that in the Playhouse.

“Julio Santayana,” she muttered to herself; licking the odd taste of it on the tip of her tongue. 

When she heard the footsteps downstairs, she quickly hid the wallet under her bed and counted the money from her wage last night to give it to Franco. She's ready to go to the stream now. So she dashed down the stairs and placed down Franco's share on the table. 

Franco just got home, and Siren has no interest to ask where he had been when she's living with him for years now. It's always nothing but his vices and women. He wondered if Franco even gave himself a chance to think and reflect on his own life. Does he ever wish for a change? Does he see himself actually changing?

Siren doesn't want to believe one's life will improve through changes. But who would tell someone he's wasting his life for nothing, and how they looked miserable without change? 

"Where are you going?" Franco asked. He was on his way to the bathroom when Siren sped past him. She was glad there was enough distance between them already since she's an arm away from the door. Franco looked awful, with his disheveled face and sleep-deprived profile. She winced at the possible foul smell on him because of alcohol and God knows what else. It would only take some time before that smell goes to turn if she doesn't run away now with the suffocating, enclosed space they called the house. 

"Stream," was her simple answer. She patiently waited for him to say anything, stepping back to the door when he walked to the table and counted the money. There was a frown on his face and lips but said nothing. He jerked his head to her so he dashed out of the house. There was a complaint on Franco's face, but he's probably that drained to keep his mouth shut. A complaint that's all familiar to Siren. 

In the stream, she tried to sleep in the cottage, but her eyes were wide. The sound of nature failed to lull her to sleep, which is a rare thing to happen. After hours of blankly staring at the poor make-shift roof of the cottage, an image appeared in her head. It was vivid and clear that she suddenly became aware of why she can't sleep. 

It's that man. Julio Santayana. Or if that's the real name of the man who gave her cold three million cash, threatening her to leave her work, and even followed her all the way to their house. Who knows, he could be a professional snatcher. Better than her. The wallet must be stolen, too, which explains why it doesn't contain any identification card. 

For a moment, she regrets leaving the wallet in her home. But then, she left Franco enough money. People like him would only dare trespass into the place they don't belong to amidst their desperate state. What do they say again? 'Desperate time calls for desperate measures'. 

She smirked to herself. That saying is all familiar to desperate people. Like Franco. Like her. And everyone else.  

Can we blame people when the only answer out of desperate moments is a desperate action?

She was wrong when she thought the man wanted her attention. He wanted her out of his way. Not her attention. The man obviously is a lot more different from the men she knew in her entire life. He radiates power and appeal. 

She could still remember the disgust on his face. For the first time in her years of working in the clubhouse, she was offended. How a man like him could slap the truth to her of how worthless she is by a mere look in his eyes was beyond her. 

She groaned her disappointment to herself and drowned her frustration in the stream. She learned not to be affected by anything outside her concern. What people think of her was out of her concern. Her own being was never her concerned. 

But the man makes her feel awful. 

She memorized the effect of a judgment on her system, and she should shrug it off before it took over her being. 

She lifted her huge shirt over her head, revealing a skin color bra and black cycling. She didn't plan to take a dip, but things happened when we didn't expect it the most. 

The stream is shallow and there are just too many rocks for her to actually take a dip. Unless she goes down and swims in the river instead. For now, she just wanted the cold water, hoping to calm her inappropriate thoughts. 

She's not attractive to the mysterious man. She was in grade school when she first felt that kind of attraction towards the opposite s*x. She dismissed it the moment she realized which part of this ill society she belongs to. There are just too many problems at hand to have time to only foolishly giggle with the thought of being 'in love'. 

Well, that sucks, she thought. People looked for someone to fall in love with. It's like they're desperate to hear someone telling them how much they love them. Siren can go face the mirror and tell those stupid words to herself. But even her own self refused it. 

How are they supposed to give love when they don't have it since the beginning of the world? How does love change the society they live in when people are born and die with the illusion of, but the world is still in the process of destruction? 

What a fool to believe love can change the world when everyone is close to their own destruction?

Or perhaps she's talking to herself. 

How stupid of her to compare her own life to others simply because they're all human? The world doesn't work that way, right? 

"What are you doing?" she whispered to the silence. She scooped the cold water in her hands and tilted her head to the side to pour it on the side of her neck. Her long hair in a high, tight bun above her head. 

She heard the startled gasp from behind her. The fallen branch of trees and dried leaves groaning with the weight over them. She glanced just in time to see the man falling on the ground with his butt first. His wide eyes gaped at her, but almost instantly darted to the ground in front of her. A snake nearly attacked him with his sudden movements. The surprised man quickly turned rigid in the presence of the stray snake. 

Or they could be the ones being stray and disturbing their peaceful habitats. 

It surprised Siren to see them just a few steps behind her. That explains why the man moved closer to her. She's aware of their eyes watching her from afar. They're always there, wanting her. Eager for her. She moved to visit the place and left with no one of them having the courage to show themselves to her. 

She believed they feared Franco to keep themselves hidden by the groves and trees. 

The snake didn't realize the danger from the man who dared get into his way. Siren wanted to believe the snake gave its trust to someone it shouldn't. It was on its way to going back to the tall grasses on the side, closed to the forest when the man moved. Grabbing the thick wood on his side that slipped from his hand, she struck the snake by its head.

Siren averted her gaze, splashing water to her front to ignore the sound from either the wood or the snake. How sad. She wanted to stop the guy, but stopping him could startle the snake, and might bite him in defense. And she'd be left alone to deal with the snake. 

The man sighed behind her. A relief. 

"Y-You're safe now," he stuttered, making a noise as he moved behind her. His knees were shaking with the encounter with the wild animal. 

'Oh', she murmured to herself. So the snake planned to attack her from behind, without her even noticing it because she's lost with her despicable thoughts. But what do you expect from a snake? A being that was accused of being a traitor because a myth named it after so. To a being who learned that hard way of keeping its own life? In the wild, to live is to kill. 

And the largest wilderness is this world. 

"You killed it to save me. How pitiful," she replied to the guy who seems to be waiting for her response since he's immovable behind her. She continued pouring water on her body. From her shoulders to her chest and neck. But she no longer wanted to take a dip. She wanted to be sad about the snake's death. At least pretend to be sad and affected. 

They weren't acquaintances. They were only about to meet each other if the man hadn't stepped in. It shouldn't be her concern. 

"It... It was about to bite y-you."

She nodded, nonchalantly caressing her legs under the clear water, wishing for the first time she has somewhere else to go except from the stream. "It's sad, eh? To be the one losing your life for someone else's life." A sacrifice. 

Sighing, she ascended from the water and faced the man. He looked even more startled by her presence than the snake did. The poor animal's tongue darted out to kiss the ground. If only it knows no one would feel pity for how cruel his death is. People die every day, but no one realizes how cruel it is, no matter the means. Death is cruel, for it only comes to those who are not expecting it. 

The man's eyes darted from her face to her body and all the way down. There was a strong internal battle with the man. He doesn't want to show how star-struck he is to the godly presence in front of him. He wanted to act and make her see he's different from the rest of the men salivating over her. But he's not expecting to face Siren with all the delicate skin showing. He's content to watch her from afar, watching he's here. Watching to be closer. To be her friend. So he failed to prepare herself. 

Why, he's only a man who lusted over the beauty everyone is dying for. He could lunge at her. Attack her. Make her feel how much he wanted her. But it's like throwing yourself directly to hell. Siren can make a fight. Either he takes his own life for acting to his lust over her, or Franco will make sure he's bruised and unrecognizable that Satan won't even recognize who's the motherfucker entering his palace. 

It paralyzed the man. For someone who just killed a wild snake, longer than the height of both of them combined, the man sure is not that brave enough. Taking a step back when Siren moved out of the water. Unable to stop his jaw from hitting the ground when she walked past him. Through the bushes and trees, he heard a startled gasp. A sound of misery. A mixture of awe and frustration for not being able to get what they've been longing for.

Well, that's life in the slum, right? Every day is a day full of hopeless dreams. 

She approached the cottage and carefully laid down on the bamboo surface. She wished to leave the man and the spectators. But where to? Their house is surely burning now at this scorching hour. She doesn't feel like eating at Anita's. She waited for her body to dry up a little instead. 

"Thanks," she said with a crisp voice to the man who remained standing there. It was the coldest, unemotional gratitude of the man he ever heard to someone he just saved the life. He jerked and uncomfortably clasped his palms together. 

The snake just came from nowhere, and it's on the way to the stream. Or at least closer to Siren, like the animal too was attracted by her beauty. He moved to save her without asking for anything in return. But in the end, he wished the woman would show a little gratitude and gave him a chance to make a little chitchat with him. 

But with the tone that she used, he knows he's not getting any genuine gratitude. A wide smile. Perhaps a warm hug as she trembles with the thought of being bitten by the snake. 

Bitterly, he felt like the woman only said the word as a means to shoo him away. Like it's enough and his business a few feet closer to him was done. 

Right. Always the cold-hearted Siren. Can't even be a little sincere for thanking him. 

"O-Okay," was all he could say, before turning around to join the about five or seven men watching them from their hiding places. 

Siren heavily sighed and closed her eyes, wondering how it felt like to get the viper’s poison on your system? Does it hurt? Numbing? Fatal? Would she realize it? Will she be dead seconds later? 

She used those thoughts to keep her mind busy, dismissing the thought of the man with a million pesos to give to the pathetic woman in the street. 

She hadn't realized she fell asleep. She forgot about lunch. When she opened her eyelids, the sun was not that blazing. Wearing her huge shirt, she left the stream and lazily slumped down on her seat to Anita's. The husband served her. 

"I heard you nearly got bitten by a snake?" he asked suddenly, leaning on the counter in between him and Siren. Slowly, she lifted her head from him, displeased with the question when she's in the middle of her food, and thoughts that seem to be trying to get her past her senses again. 

He expectantly smiled widely at her. On the line of his upper teeth, one tooth was glinting against the light. Silver or stainless, she's not sure. But she could tell Anita is not home for her husband to have the courage to strike a conversation with her.

She shrugged and continued with the food. 

"That must be scary, no?" he continued. 

"What's scary to you may not be scary to me. And likewise." She smirked at him. Her lips created a dangerous curve that the man's eyes lingered for a moment. When he noticed the indifference in her eyes, contrasting the playful grin, he blinked. The woman can sure play with everyone's emotions. One moment, she makes them feel welcome to approach her, and next, she's silently giving them the warning air to back off. 

She was drinking on her glass of water, done with the half-eaten food when her side of the head throbbed with sudden pain. The man let out a strangled gasp. For a moment, his hand attempted to reach out to Siren, but he stopped himself. He stood upright and turned to the left with wide eyes. 

While she casually flattened her palms over the painful head, seeing fresh blood sticking on her forehead. Almost in the size of a coin. The pain continues, but it doesn't show on her face. He poured the cold water on her palm to wash the blood off. Leaving money more than what she eats and stands. 

Behind her, the neighborhoods gathered in a circle, creating a more scandalous commotion around her. But the loudest noise was from Anita, who threw a handful size of stone at her as she witnessed how the two seem to get along. It was her false accusation, though. They're anything but getting along. 

The sea of bystanders who gathered to watch the little drama parted to give ways to Siren, who looked unbothered and unaffected as ever. Everyone kept on gasping as fresh blood kept on flowing on the side of her face, tainting her white shirt. 

Luckily for her, and to avoid giving an explanation, the house is empty. She locked the house and walked directly to the bathroom. Grabbing the dipper full of water and splashing it all over herself. She continued for several more, scoffing in frustration when the tap water barely drowned her. She clenched her hand against the bucket, trying to get a grasp of her self-control, but losing it. She watched with her eyes full of fury how the dipper flew across the small bathroom, hitting the wall, and nearly bouncing back at her face as if to tell how it's mad at her, too, for throwing his anger to the poor thing. 

Two hours later, she's taking the street as cold as ever. Walking past everyone like they're nothing but polluted air. A small bandage on her forehead. Glad they have a medical kit at the house because Franco often needs it in the middle of the night after thinking he could act mighty in a place that is not his territory. 

So it's a matter of acting superior to a certain place. A gangster in a slum can act brave and strong in the slum, but he's nothing but an uneducated, pathetic, poor, soulless being in the heart of the city with all the corporate world running it. And corporate workers are hopeless, die-hard dreamers, to those who literally run the corporate world. The opulent, entitled dynasty of anyone with a powerful name that can make anyone fall down on their knees. 

Siren realized everyone can be mighty and supreme. But it's the matter of when and why. The battle of power and authority over someone who (stupidly) thinks they can be superior to. But only to those lower than them. Pathetic human beings think they all can be superior. Life will make them feel like they have the upper hand. But they will whimper once they realize it gave them false hope. 

Pitifully inadequate beings. Maybe also beautiful.