Chapter 1 – Blood, Sweat, Tears, and a Hand?

              “Where are you hiding her?”

              Pak!

              “Death to traitors, wife stealers, and kidnappers. Death to bond-breakers and trust-betrayers”

              Pak! Pak! Pak!

              “Hello. Girl.”

              ‘Dub-dub dub-dub’

That nightmare again.

Every time, it’s the same scene – a man getting beaten to death while a girl stood frozen by the door. It would abruptly end when a man kneels in front of the girl, alerting my mind that it’s time to wake up. With heart racing all the time.

‘Take your medicine’

‘Find a friend’

‘Be kind. At least to yourself’

Words of affirmation I stuck on the mirror to remind myself daily on how I should live my life instead of how I wanted it to be – guilt-ridden, miserable, alone.  

Some would say nightmares are products of imagination but mine happened twenty years ago. When three masked men came to my neighbour, Mr. Johnson, and beat him to death, leaving my friend Bryce, orphaned. I knew Bryce hated me for not cooperating with the police, but like what my father said to prevent me from testifying, ‘you’re just five’.

‘Ding’  

‘1 unread email’

Well, I’m not five anymore and I made it my life’s mission to bring justice to Mr. Johnson and Bryce no matter how long it takes. And I’ll do that by bringing down the organization responsible for his death: The Sticks.

My heart is still pounding when I read the contents of the email. It’s from my anonymous source ‘Ace’.

‘Some by blood, some by chains. What you seek is forged by both. One cruel rein for the father, and one rein for the cruel son. And though the son’s mind is clear, his heart is not. Where the father’s heart is clear, his hands and conscience are not.’

This was Ace’s reply when I posed him my theory about the organization’s hierarchy and the possibility that it has a father-and-son duo at the helm. My theory is finally proven. If I could expose them to the public, investigation would follow that would lead to their fall.

I excitedly invited my editor over to discuss my docu-series proposal but it took a lot of convincing for her to entertain my proposal.  

“Trust me on this, Ara,” I reassured her.

“Okay,” she heaved a deep breath before continuing. “Tell me all the details and I’ll stick my neck out for you,” she demanded.

After giving her all the major activities of the Sticks in the last five years and how their operation have changed in the past year, she finally agreed that we should bring this to our bosses’ attention.

We agreed on our presentation strategy for the next day, but when I arrived at the office, everyone’s singing praises to congratulate her.

“What’s happening?” I asked my friend Veronica.

“Ara wanted to investigate the Sticks and the chief rewarded her with a $50,000 bonus. He even assigned bodyguards and moved her to a secured residence. I heard it’s an exclusive villa,” she added.

The rest of Veronica’s words did not register anymore. All I could hear was ‘Sticks, Bonus, Bodyguards, Villa’ repeatedly and before I knew it, I dashed to Ara’s office.  

“Oh, you sly, old, fox.” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “This is my life’s work. My blood, sweat, and tears. How could you steal it from me?”

When my outburst was met with silence, that’s when I notice other presence inside the room.

“Well, guys, I told you someone obsessed will not take this lightly,” Ara said to the rest of the group including our chief editor and other upper management. One by one they left until only me and Ara remained.

“Collette, do you still remember the first lesson I taught you when you said you wanted to investigate The Sticks?” she calmly walked to her desk before taking a seat. “I told you not to trust anyone and to always cover your ass. Do you finally realize how vultures would wait patiently and swoop in as soon as the opportunity presents itself?” The condescension in her tone was unnerving.

“You cannot complete this documentary, Ara. I have all the documents. Documents you cannot obtain in your lifetime,” I reminded in gritted teeth.

“Who said I will run the docu-series? If I can enjoy all the benefits just by proposing an idea, why risk my life antagonizing these powerful people?”

“You won’t get away with this.” I slammed on her desk before walking towards the door.

“Stop!”

“Nicolette Meyers, with pen name Nico Sticks, for conducting an unauthorized investigation, endangering an anonymous resource person, and, for using the company’s name and resources for unofficial business. You are hereby, TERMINATED! You have the rest of the day to clear your desk and to settle your affairs with HR.”

‘Terminated’

‘Unauthorized’

But she clearly knew what I was doing.

The words were still ringing in my ears but based on her ice-cold demeanour, this is part of her plan. She not only took my work and my benefits; she wanted to take my livelihood too.

But if she thought she broke me, she didn’t know me at all.

I went back to my desk pretending nothing happened as I interacted with my colleagues. When they invited me for lunch at the expensive Grand Royale Hotel, I gladly accepted while thinking which of my appliances should I sell next to cover this month’s rent.  

I tried to be enthusiastic during lunch, engaging at every topic, but when I felt someone was staring at me, my surrounding froze in silence. And all I could hear was two alternating heartbeats; one from me and the other from the masked man, donning a 17^th century ball attire. My heart skipped a beat trying to match his rhythm as we held each other’s gaze, but as soon as my surroundings returned to normal, he was gone. Leaving me doubting my vision, or if I was really transported back in time.  

After a long lunch, I arranged for a courier to bring my box to my apartment and the heavy fan mail to my storage unit before leaving the office for the last time.

I was mindlessly walking to my apartment thinking about Ara’s betrayal, the masked man, my rent, and my future, when I found a box on my doorstep and a severed hand beside it.

What the –

A s-severed hand?

“Ahhhhhh!!!”

Have ‘they’ found me?