Rabbit Hole (Romantic-Suspense)

Chapter 3: Into the hole (part 3)

Chapter 3: Into the hole (part 3)

"Father, I know you have your reasons for kicking me out of the life I was living just this morning—but what the hell? Can't you at least inform me ahead of time? Not that I would say ‘yes’ but—ugh, tell me…was it why did you get Architect Martin fire me out?" I asked, losing every inch of patience.

He then looks down on his lap like a kid being reprimanded by his parents—then, I shook my head, thinking how our roles reverse right now.

Seeing how he shut his mouth in, I sighed heavily, knowing him in this manner he wouldn’t give me anything— any proper conversation from now is impossible.

My father, Albert Gomez, is a mature, stern man. That’s why it’s funny sometimes to see him like this—but, I’m not happy now. He ruined the life I was finally living by myself without anyone telling me to get lost out of their sight—ugh.

"Seriously, dad? Was everything this morning just on a pure whim? Did it really just take a snap of your fingers to overthrow everything I worked so hard on? You know well that I'm working myself like a workhorse to start anew by myself. Why?!—"

"Why are you even doing that? Why are you so obsessed with working so hard? I knew it. Taking architecture from the very start was ridiculous! Look, Alice? Why don't you just change your career? Be my successor—"

And before he could go on to what he was about to say, I immediately stopped him.

"Father, if any of my brothers hear you saying that, for sure they won't sit still." I firmly said, stopping him from arguing with me any further for not choosing to study our family's business.

It's not that I don't like it, it's just…in this type of family…competition is inevitable.

Growing up as the youngest kid and an outsider in the family with grand luxury on top of our name, I struggled every day to get appreciated just as who I am but not until I figured in a hard way that no matter what I do, I won't achieve anything beyond getting the name I was only given with.

So, having enough of my sibling's toxic rivalry to inherit the corporation, I decided to voluntarily take a degree far from our line of business—just to initially get away from their glares.

“Ha…”

Father released a heavy sigh, making a gloomy air, and looked at me with a pair of apologetic eyes, as if he knew how far my brothers' could get.

"I knew you would say that. Don't worry. I know you won't settle and stay here even if I lock you up in your room." He said, sounding melancholy when, all of a sudden, it didn't take a minute for him to show his grinning face and said, "So, this loving father went ahead and bought you your own condo unit—"

Getting the gist that everything wouldn't just stop me from getting kicked out of my apartment, I glared at him.

"Eek!" he stopped, flinched on his seat, and raised a hand with that. The maid then put a brochure and documents on the table in front of me.

Curious, I grabbed it and examined it, and then I glanced back and forth at him with disbelief. His grin grew wider from ear to ear, flaunting his smug look, confident that I wouldn't refuse the condominium he bought for me.

My dream condo, I can't believe—I finally have my own unit here—wait, Alice—he must be up to something. Don't get carried away just yet—

"Don't worry! I know you'll love it! It's more comfortable than that crappy apartment you were renting!" he said assuredly, sipping his tea when he noticed that retaliation on my face faded away.

"Really?—I mean, why? Are you saying that you had me fired and kicked out just to live here? I don't get it—wait! How about my job? Ugh, thanks to someone, I just lost it, and I have to look for God knows where again." I blurted out, doubtful of his plan.

"Oh! Don't worry about it! With your resume and portfolio? For sure, companies would line up to recruit you!" He said, looking proud, disregarding my question. And just as when I'm about to refute, he blurted out and said;

"O-oh! That's right! You're birthday's coming, right? This is an early gift—"reading through his act, I cut him off with a monotonous tone, getting tired of this beating around the bush talk.

"Giving me a condo unit but kicking me out of my job? Is this some sort of test? Spill it, dad, you're hiding something, aren't you?!" I said, making him sweat more. He has to be hiding something. What else would he do that? On whim? I don't think so…

Father's always been deadly serious about whatever he does. Whim's not on his vocabulary, but what he's doing right now is so fishy that I couldn't help but want to find the source of this reeking smell.

This might be deeper than what I expect it to be if he's going this far just to let me say ‘yes’.

Hmmm…what are you hiding, father?

"Ah! What's that? I have a call?! A-alright! I'll be right there!" Seeing one of his guards approach--as if he saw his chance to escape from me. He dashed out of my sight before I could even utter a word and stop him.

"Ugh? Seriously? Dad? Oh, great!" Trying to catch up with him, the guard stood in front of the way, stopping me from chasing him further. With how he acted, I knew something was definitely going on.

And when he successfully got out of the door with a car waiting for him just outside the porch, I surrendered and lay down on the couch.

How could he leave like that?! Even making the guard stop me—then suddenly, my phone vibrates. Looking at the time on my phone and the wall clock in front of me, I sigh and look at my phone.

Again, being consistent as ever…at exactly 11:11 am. This person, the 'dove,' never fails to cease my expectations. At every 11:11 am, I get to receive a poem—more like an entry per day. At first, receiving this kind of email from an unknown account bothered me, thinking this person must've mistaken me for another person.

I tried replying to his or her emails before, but in the end, that ‘dove’ just continued on sending me emails with no relevant answers daily. And since it started when I was—17—18? I started thinking that maybe it was some spam email and before I realized it, I began to wait for the poems that email would send for the day. The emails usually contain poems and, since they’re good and once, had helped me get through an assignment before in literature.

I decided not to block that ‘dove’.

Alright, let's relieve some stress, Alice. I thought, deciding to divert my attention from the stress my father just caused me and check the email dove just sent me.

Lavender

"Mhmm, my favorite flower, alright, let me see how will this go." I said, obliviously reading the title.

Once we were seven

Now we are two

Years rolled away-effortless

More fragile than dew.

“Is this poem dedicated to a childhood friend now? Hmmm..." I mumbled thinking for who is it now dedicated to this time, since every poem that is being sent seems to be dedicated to someone.

I see through my window

the red sun sinking down

Life is a fated circle

Dust finally comes around

"Now, this feels depressing. Life is a fated circle…" I whispered, rereading the third line from the second stanza. Hmm, sometimes I wonder what life this person has.

I thought to myself as I sympathized to a stranger.

I seek the big dipper

Yet the darkest of nights

Fades into the dazzle

Of a hundred street lights.

"Okay, so does that dove mean he can’t see what he wants?" I said, feeling sorry for with dove who wrote this.

I retreat beneath my disguise

The scent of lavender through sweet

Cannot begin to compare

With your lined-dried sheets.

"Uh, okay, this turns one-eighty degree from a childhood friend to uh…lover? Well, this stanza seems intimate—too intimate for a childhood friend, so this must be for a lover or some sort perhaps? But, wait a second? A lover at the age of seven?! Are you kidding me?" Puzzled, I read the first stanza again, trying to grasp the very meaning of the poem from the beginning to this stanza.

“Once we were seven

Now we are two

Years rolled away-effortless

More fragile than dew.”

Uhh, alright, maybe it was a childhood crush that eventually blossomed into something romantic. I thought, thinking this must be the story this poem tries to convey. And right after I convinced myself of I thought, I immediately went into the next stanza.

“You visit me at night

As I lie here asleep

Reminding me I still

Have promises to keep”

Suddenly, I felt a strange feeling, a feeling that I couldn’t put my finger on, and this feeling got stronger when I realized that this stanza finishes the poem.

Reminding me I still have promises to keep…

“Ugh, don’t overthink it. This poem is just about a lover that has some unfinished business.” I said to myself, trying to stop before I could go deep into thoughts, knowing that whatever this poem talks about, at the end of the day, it would always remain irrelevant to my life.

“Oh, man, this sure just stressed me more." Talking to myself, yawning, stretching my arms out, I decided to just head up stairs to my room, seeing that I wouldn’t be able to do anything today because everything was just got bombed by dad this morning.

Standing up, I saw a familiar face passing through the hall.

"Sasha?” Calling her, as I recognized her she then looked in my way from where she was standing. Gently smiling as she walked closer,—“Welcome back, miss Alice.” She said.

Seeing she seemed like she had not changed a bit since the last time I saw her when I moved out of this mansion, I felt a little relieved.

She is one of the maids I thought wouldn’t last in this house because of Cassandra and my older brothers, but she’s the only one who proved me wrong.

Really, of all the familiar faces I saw on this day, so far. She’s the thing I'm most glad to see. Well, yeah, probably because she does not have anything to do with any of my problems.

Ha..

“Thank you, glad to see you staying with us here. Anyways, can you call the guards and ask them to put my luggage and other stuff in the storage room near the entrance? I’ll be moving out again soon, so that’s enough for me. And oh, I’ll just be right up in my room, tell dad when he arrives to not bother me for the rest of the day, alright?"

"Sure, miss." Sasha said, after nodding her head subtly, and when she immediately strides her way out to the guards, I sighed and headed straight to the wide stairway leading up to the second floor.

The more I take a step higher, the more I get nostalgic because the more I get closer to the second floor, the more I smell the lavender arranged on the vases placed on top of the stair’s post.

And, lavender scent sure brings back a lot of memories. When I was younger, dad would always get me lavender flowers saying they were my biological mother’s favorite.

As I’ve said, the fact that I was adopted isn’t a secret and this fact has been made clear before I could even understand what being adopted truly means. And just like any other child, I longed and tried to search for my real parents, but the little me all could do was naively ask where they were to Albert—my foster father.

Who else could I inquire for information about my real parents other than him, who’s ever since, from as long as I can remember, has been so kind to me.

However, being naively hoping to meet my biological family only made my hope shattered into pieces when Albert told me that my real father was never known and my real mother died giving birth to be whom he’s close friends to.

“Anastasia Fritz.” I muttered, remembering her whole name.

And because of what happened, right after I was born, I was immediately being taken under Gomez’s wings, perhaps because of pity—Albert’s pity.

Albert said Anastasia does not have any family and close relatives, so he took the initiative to take care of me and although he says he has loved me as his own child, I can’t look the same way—I appreciate and love him as my father but, maybe because of the circumstances, I grew up into under this very roof.

I can’t bring myself to accept the fatherly affection he has for me even up to now, knowing as I grow older, I keep getting into the sibling rivalry over the Gomez’s businesses even if I don’t want to.

Anyhow, going back to lavender, which’s according to Albert, my mother’s favorite and that’s eventually mine too since before I knew it, lavender had already grown into me and it also became my favorite flower. But despite this one common trait we have, I’m glad to remember her even through this flower—suddenly, the poem earlier flashed through my mind.

"Dove@----sss," I uttered, walking along the second floor’s hall leading to my room, remembering the person's email address. For four years, he has been sending me a poem every day consistently—be it short or be it long. I read them Well, not at first, but I eventually got used to it despite not knowing who he really is, not even his gender.

But since it has been going on for so long now, and even though he won’t answer my questions through replies, I kind of let him and gave up, since there’s no problem with everything he’s been sending for those whole years.

Finally making it, in front of my room’s door, shrugging off the thought of that poem and mysterious person— my phone suddenly vibrates. Thoughtlessly, I looked at it as I twisted my doorknob.

Then, what flashed on my screen piqued my interest, as for years of receiving a single poem every day—this is the first time I received another email from that person.

From dove…

Gulping my excitement before opening the email, "what's with this person now? Sending two emails all of a sudden when I don't question him anymore?" I curiously said, for he hadn't done this before. Even if I sent replies or comments to his emails, he would never reply.

“Or could it be? He—she’s now ready for a conversation?” Guessing what the email could be, I hurriedly entered my room and immediately dived onto my bedsheets. Thanks to the maids who keep this room tidy as if I never left, I get to enjoy the subtle yet relaxing lavender scent, the scent I always make sure my room smells.

Eyes on the phone, still not opening the mail as I tried my best to savor the excitement before opening it, I, for a while, thought of several possibilities of why would someone who strictly sent single mail a day consistently for years suddenly break his record.

Remembering it now, I’m certain that I was seventeen years old when this person started sending me emails. Couldn't contain the excitement any longer, I opened it.

“Huh?” But what I saw gave me more questions. As if I hadn't reached my quota of unanswered questions yet, I laid there for minutes, totally creeping out, looking suspiciously at what was written.

"What..." was the only word that escaped from my mouth despite having tons of questions in mind.

Chills are running down my spine, I can’t process enough if what I’m reading is true.

What in the world?