Dear Ara

"ERIKKA, I don't think I can do this."

Erikka Villanueva, Ara's best friend in the whole world, gave her a narrowing look as she squeezed her arm tightly. "We are not going on about this again, Ara. We've been planning this for a long time and I will not have you back-out on me now."

Ara bit her lip, as to show her doubt. "Erikka, I'm scared. I don't belong in this type of place," she said, gesturing to the glowing club name right above the entrance of a well-known nightclub from where they were standing. Bouncers were posted to watch the laughing group of teenagers next to them.

"No buts!" Erikka had already pulled her inside before she could even mutter even one word of refusal.

Erikka had always been the carefree one between them. She loves partying, going out with friends, having boyfriends every now and then, updating her whole life all over the social media Ara could name off. Then there’s her, she just likes to stay in-home doing her private things like reading romance books, spending time in the backyard or going to malls to buy something to eat or collect. They are the polar opposite of one another, yet their friendship has been stronger than any intimate relationship they both had in the recent past.

The club is filled with drinkers and smokers. Bottles of beer are scattered everywhere. Teenagers are laughing like there is no tomorrow to see. Some couples are making out in corners where there are minimal lights to see them. E-cigarettes are a trend as of now so different flavors are mixed in the foggy air. The background music is wild, dancers are swaying like crazy. Despite the uncomfortable atmosphere Ara manages to still appreciate the music the DJ is mixing for everyone. Ara wished her parents didn’t agree with Erikka to invite her in a place like no one is sober. Her ears are hurting already because of the loud vibrations.

“Let’s go over there!” shout Erikka, pulling her towards the bartender. They both sat on red narrow stools. Erikka starts to flirt while Ara examines the interiors of the nightclub. “Ara,” her best friend calls her attention.

She reverses her eyes with a smile on Erikka. “Yes?”

“This is Ranold, I met him a few times already and he makes drinks up to its price! Ranold, this is Ara, the sweetest and only best friend I always mention to you.”

“Nice to meet you,” smiles Ronald.

“Likewise,” Ara smiled back politely.

The night seems to be dreadful rather than enjoyable for Ara. She did appreciate the new experience but the place really is not meant for her. If only Erikka hadn’t begged her for real she wouldn’t even think about coming to a place where so much indecency is going on. After the last shot of whatever Ronald had served her she searched for Erikka who had been dancing with another guy she found cute. “Erikka!” she called out loud. She couldn’t see the faces of the people on the dance floor. It’s too dark and the lights are blinding her sight. “Damn it, Erikka. Where the hell are you?” she mumbled to herself. Feeling the call of nature she climbs off the stool to go on a toilet hunt.

Successfully coming out of the ladies toilet Ara heard a loud tile crashing in the male’s toilet. Curiosity made her take a peep. And how regretful she is that off all time to be curious she sees a bloody man coming out of the entrance. He was a foreign man with a dangerous vibe she didn’t like. Immediately she turned away like she saw nothing, ready to run away from the possible crime she witnessed.

“Hey!”

Ara gasped when the man grabbed her right arm tightly with his large bloody left hand.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” his arrogant voice sent an unfamiliar chill to Ara's head to toe. His grip is like an electric static signaling her to run away right at that very moment. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," the man said in a low but warning tone.

She still refuses to look at him. There had been an imaginary lump in her throat. Prevent her from making any excuse.

"Damn it, are you mute? Are you deaf?" As the man keeps squeezing her arm like a toothpaste tube, she remains stiff. "Do you even understand what saying--" he didn't finish his furious sentence. He was busy groaning in pain and then falling on the ground. As his hand loosen on her arm she turns her head towards him.

"W-what's happening to you?" A stupid question she came up with despite a hundred percent sure he's suffering from blood loss on in the gut, and his chest is sliced ten inch in length left slant.

"So you're not mute but a blind one," he said mockingly.

She couldn't help but be angry and insulted at the same time fearing this man could strangle her in an instant. "What is your problem? You're already dying in pain there and yet you can still be so arrogant?"

"Stop talking and help me get out of here."

"I don't want to. Who knows what kind of person you are."

Ara's never going to help him. Never. Yet her conscience is telling her to help him or he'll hunt her in her dreams for the rest of her life. Fighting with herself, she unknowingly helped him get up. She put his arm around her shoulders. She guess right, with his muscled biceps he could easily break her neck in a second.

"Which hospital would you like me to take you to?"

"Who says anything about a hospital?"

VANLUKE'S mind is filled with anger for multiple reasons. First, he got tricked into an ambush. Second, he was supposed to be guarded yet no one was damn around. Third, he's bleeding to death in a country he's not even fond of. Fourth, he has to trust his damned life to a stupid provincial girl to take care of his wound, who turns out to be a vet practitioner. Just great. He lives as an animal, he gets treated like an animal by an animal person.

He watches her as she indiscriminately treats his stab wound half naked above. He's a bit suspicious of how she doesn't get flustered with his broad, muscled upper body. All he can sense from her is her fear of being dead after treating him and can't wait any more minute to escape to a place where he's not there.

He asked her to bring him to a nearby motel instead of a hospital. He need not explain to her as to why he refused her offer. She was already aware of the reason. She didn't ask anything regarding it. As he lay his back in the small single bed he watched her do her thing after revealing her vet practitioner skills.

She's so Asian. Dark hair, brown eyes, fair point nose, small lips, oval shape-face, et cetera. Her clothes are simple. An inch high closed black heels, black slacks that fit her thick legs, a black sleeveless shirt inside an unbuttoned gray-white checkered shirt. He can see her slightly traceable collar bone. He got the urge to touch it. And when he actually did he got a surprising gift in return. She slapped him hard.

Both of them were surprised. He was surprised, shocked by his own reaction. If a woman tries to slap him he will already be furious. Although it's different from her. Maybe because he was on the wrong side.

"Oh, my gosh. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" She touched left cheek. He flinched as their skin felt together. Her hand was warm, small, feminine. He didn't sense any pretentious ideas. She was innocently worried his cheek was turning red. "I mean I'm not that sorry. You suddenly touched me!"

He didn't reply. He just groaned in pain, feeling the stitches without anaesthetics. "Damn…" he mumbled, hiding his displeasure as much as possible. If there's anything he hates it's letting anyone see him at his lowests. "Is this your first time?"

He felt her stop for a second before continuing. "In a motel with someone or treating wounds?"

"Both."

"You're my first ever human patient."

That answer made Vanluke knot his forehead. She dodged the answer about being in a motel with someone. So she's not as innocent as she looks. "When did you last come here with someone?"

"I'm not someone to spill the beans just to anyone."

"I'm not anyone."

"Ha-ha," she sarcastically replied, trying her best to focus on tying the last stitch on his bare flesh. "You're lucky the wound didn't hit any vital organs. I would've brought you to a real doctor."

She's changing the topic, he thought. "How many times have you slept with someone?" Vanluke almost regrets his own straightforward personality. He forgot Filipinos are indirect kind of people.

Speechless, the girl's face was emotionless. The atmosphere around her screams that she's disgusted by him. "Don't move," she commanded. "Your chest is butterfly stitched. If you move around carelessly it'll be open again in no time."

He sighs. If she doesn't want to talk about it then so be it. Just when he's given up on interrogating her she stands up preparing to leave. He caught right wrist. "Where are you going?"

"Why do you care?"

"You can't just leave me here…" Vanluke's mouth was left a bit open. After all the talking he didn't even know her name. He doesn't remember telling her his either.

"Goodbye," she said. She pulled her wrist back and left the room.