CHAPTER FIVE: It Wasn’t Me

Her words made my heart throbbed. “About what?”

“I am carrying a being in my womb for two months now. I hid it from Bruce and everyone else even the school nurse by faking my period that almost lead to miscarriage.” She gently brushed her tummy with love. “I told him once and the truth almost killed me. I reasoned out that it was a prank and it brought him back to his senses but he couldn’t remember what he did to me. Sometimes I would wake up with a pain in my belly and found Bruce squeezing it while blurting foreign languages. He was possessed but I don’t know which devil not until I heard its voice at the library. It was the only time I was certain that it was Mark, my ex-boyfriend.” Her voice cracked.

I sighed in relief. Thank goodness my initial thought was wrong. Her choice of words especially the confess one made me nervous.

“Why are you telling me all of these?” I questioned.

“I need your help to find Bruce’s soul and I confessed to gain your trust.” Her sincere eyes met mine.

“I’m willing to help you even without confessing everything. Each one of us has secrets to keep and I respect that. I trust you and you do not owe me any explanation.” This time it was me who held her hand with assurance.

“You do but your friend here doesn’t and I don’t know why—”

“You sure do,” Grip interfered cutting Amara off.

Something’s off between them. They had something against each other. They were like quarreling couples. The two of them threw each other their looks of dagger. There was a strong bolt connecting their glares making me shiver.

A loud ting stopped the two from killing each other using their eyes. Amara and I took our phones out. It was odd that we received a notification at the same time. I was about to tap the link when the door swung open.

“Don’t open it!” one of Amara’s roommates yelled from the door and she was holding her phone too.

I looked outside and saw other students snooping on us while glancing at their phones from time to time. With loathing eyes, they started to gossip.

“Amara, don’t,” her roommate begged.

She clicked the link with trembling hands and a video popped up.

“You planned everything? What do you want from me?” Someone yelled from the video. It was Bruce’s voice.

“You... I want you,” a voice of a lady responded and it sounded like Amara.

I glanced at her and she was severely shaking. Her eyes were glued to her phone’s screen.

“Don’t touch me, bitch!” Another shout from Bruce.

“The more you resist the more I like it, Bruce.”

I leaned towards Amara. On her phone, I saw a girl was trying to kiss Bruce. The video was taken in front of Bruce who was tied on the chair. I could only see the lady’s back and her resemblance with Amara was huge. From the height, midnight waist-length hair, and their bodies. Not to mention the voice!

“You’re challenging me, Bruce. I like thrills, baby. You’re turning me on.” The lady moaned. “If you don’t want me to play with your head then I’ll play with your other head instead,” she added.

I swiftly snatched her phone away and turned it off.

“Amara,” I called her but she remained spacing out.

I was certain that the lady in the video wasn’t Amara. The night of Bruce’s capture she was at the infirmary. She might have a conspirator but I don’t think she could do such a terrible thing. There was no darkness in her, not even a bit.

“It wasn’t me... it wasn’t me...” she repeatedly muttered while staring at the empty space of eternity.

I clutched her shoulders and made her face me. “It wasn’t you,” I ensured her with no hint of doubt.

She stared at me not blinking. In her eyes was nothing but melancholy. My brows puckered when she blinked many times. She hit my hand and ran away.

“Amara!” I ran after her but she didn’t stop. She didn’t even bother to look back.

“She’s obsessed.”

“Sex addict.”

“Rapist.”

“Murderer.”

That was a few slurs from other students. She slowed down covering her ears. She wandered around like a mentally retarded. Her steps were careless as that of a drunk person. Some students threw crumpled paper and even spat on her.

She lost her balance and crashed on someone. The latter pushed her away, grossed. I walked towards her and tapped her shoulder. She flinched and looked at me, frightened. She even took multiple steps away.

“It wasn’t me... it wasn’t...” She continually pulled her hair. Her teeth chattered loudly and her eyes were restlessly averting to random places.

“Monster!”

My eyes widened seeing a female student raised a bat. I pulled Amara toward me and switched our places. I closed my eyes and waited but I felt a hand snaked around my waist instead. I heard the impact but didn’t feel it.

I opened my eyes and saw Grip behind me. He pulled me closer to him by the waist. I looked up and saw his hand in the air, his wrist met the bat. The collision silenced everyone.

Lunatic laughter broke the silence. My eyes darted at Amara. She then pushed her roommate and kept on running and running. Not minding the students she bumped and ran into. She looked miserable. Her roommates tried to chase her but she was d*mn fast, hysterically fast.

I was pulled back to reality by a clinking sound of a metal. The bat dropped to the ground. The girl that was holding it stepped backward, scared.

“Grip...” I stuttered and faced him. His face remained expressionless and he lowered his bleeding hand.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fist. I swiftly passed by him and reached for the girl.

“B*tch!” I roared and grabbed her collar.

Her friends tried to stop me but in just one glare they retreated. I didn’t remove my sight from her face. My lips pursed in anger. Her tan skin turned pale. She couldn’t even look at me straight in the eyes.

“Guys check your phones. The investigation about Bruce’s death is out!” A student squealed from afar.

Everyone brought out their phone in haste. I pushed the girl making her ass hit the floor with a thud. Her friends then helped her stood up. I grabbed one of the student’s phones.

“Breaking news,” the newscaster started. “Last August 26, a student from Silverio University fell from the clock tower.” The blurred body of Bruce flashed on the screen. “The student was Bruce Collins the only heir of Collins’ Infrastructures. According to a thorough investigation, Bruce Collins committed suicide–”

A crash on the ground stunned everyone. I smashed the phone I was holding. My trembling hands curled into fists. The owner of the phone doesn’t have any guts to complain. I grabbed Grip’s arm and with numbed face, we exited the place.

Suicide my foot!