CHAPTER FIVE: Poor Anastasia

With a deep sigh, I turn away from the house that, all of a sudden, no longer belongs to me or my parents, and step out onto the cobblestone street. My footsteps echo in the quiet evening air as I make my way out of the subdivision's gates, my mind continues to swirl with questions after questions.

Pulling my phone from my cardigan's pocket, I hope to find solace in the familiar voices of my loved ones. But as I unlock the screen with my fingerprint, my heart sinks like a stone. The contact list is empty, devoid of the names and numbers that have once filled it. A sense of panic washes over me as I scroll through the barren wasteland of my phone, searching desperately for even a single familiar name. My parents, my friends, my classmates—all gone without a trace. 

No?! Please, please, please!

With trembling fingers, I tap on the icons for F******k and I*******m, eager to lose myself in the familiar feeds of friends and acquaintances. But as the apps load, my heart sinks once again. Gawking at the login screens, my accounts inexplicably logged out. So I enter my username and password, my fingers flying across the screen with difficulty. And as I hit the login button, a new and more profound creepy sensation settles in the pit of my stomach. The error message flashes across the screen in bold red letters: ‘Username and password are incorrect’.

I try again, thinking that I must have made a mistake. But no matter how many times I carefully enter my login credentials, the result is always the same. A sense of helplessness starts to consume me as I continue to stare at the screen, my head throbbing. 

“Even the HappyReading App isn’t on my phone?!”

I scroll through my apps, hoping against hope that I’ve simply overlooked it. But each swipe of my finger only serves to confirm my initial thought—it is gone too!

My hands shake as I open the G****e Play Store. But as I type in the name of the app and hit search, my hopes are dashed once again. There, in stark black and white, is the message: ‘No result found’.

My frustration boils over, mingling with the fear that gnaws at my insides. I feel utterly alone in a world that has suddenly turned its back on me. Tears well up in my eyes as I realize the depth of my isolation. But amidst the turmoil, a spark of determination flickers to life within me. 

I refuse to be defeated by this cruel twist of fate!

With a resolute step forward, I wipe away my tears and square my shoulders. Just a minute later, a taxi rumbles through the dimly lit streets, the soft glow of streetlights casting shadows across the pavement. I wave at the taxi and the moment it pulls up I rush inside of it.

“To the Moonlit Book Cafe, please,” I say.

The driver nods and speeds away. Several anxious minutes lapse, which feels like eternity, the cafe looms from a distance. The taxi pulls up to the curb, and I hurriedly pay the driver and step out onto the sidewalk. However, before I could walk away from the taxi, a growling voice shouts,

"What is this?!"

I turn around and see the driver standing just right outside his taxi, showing the fare I gave him. His eyes narrow as he glares down at the bills, his expression darkening with anger.

I’m pretty sure I paid the exact amount. Does he want a tip?

Before I could turn that thought into words, the driver erupts into a tirade of fury.

"I don't accept fake money!" he bellows, his face turning red with rage. "You wasted my time, my effort and my gasoline! If you don't have real money, don't bother someone else! I have mouths to feed!"

I recoil at the intensity of his outburst. I’ve never encountered such hostility before, and the venom in the driver's words cut me to the core. I open my mouth to protest, to explain that…. to explain what? Whatever that explanation is, it dies on my lips.

With a disgusted snarl, the driver flings the bills back at me, the crumpled notes landing at my feet like a slap in the face. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes. Though I’m burning with humiliation, I ignore the people staring at me with pure disgust as I bend down to retrieve my money.

“Fake money?” I murmur, confusion in my tone.

As the taxi driver speeds away into the night, I’m left standing alone on the sidewalk. I’ve never felt so small, so powerless in the face of someone else's wrath. And I hate it!

I glance around anxiously, my heart still pounding in my chest as I make my way towards the entrance of the cafe. Surely, someone here would be able to shed some light on the strange events that have been unfolding around me.  Brushing off the driver’s angry face from my mind, I walk closer to the Moonlit Book Cafe, enter it, then approach the counter. 

"Excuse me," I say, addressing the nearest staff member. "I was here earlier today for a meet-and-greet event of Author Agness. Do you know where she is now?"

The staff member knits his brow, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but there hasn't been any meet-and-greet event today or any other day.”

“That's impossible," I whisper. "Uhm… h-how about your fellow staff member? She’s the one who escorted me to the second floor to meet Author Agness. She’s a little shorter than I am. She has slanted eyes with a gap in front of her teeth.”

Confusion refuses to leave the staff's expression. “There's no one from our staff memebers matches that description."

I bite my lower lip as I draw out a stiff sigh.

“Thank you,” I whisper very weakly, before walking out of the cafe in defeated movements.

Something strange is happening, something that defies explanation, that's for sure: I was sent back to this cafe after taking a nap inside my bedroom, then I met Hugh Montemayor, a werewolf, a character in an ebook. My money wasn’t accepted and was even called ‘fake’, my home is resided by strangers, my phone’s contact list is empty and I can't access my social media accounts. 

I stand frozen on the sidewalk, the weight of my despair pressing down upon me. My trembling hand pulls out Hugh’s calling card - my possible last hope to survive at least this day. I clutch it tight, hesitating, uncertain whether to reach out for help or to continue facing my struggles alone.

With a shaky breath, I finally make my decision, my desperation outweighing my pride. I dial the number on the card, my heart hopeful as I wait for the call to connect. Each ring feels like an eternity, the silence stretching out before me. After the third ring, the call is answered by a click, and then the distant sound of Hugh's voice.

My throat constricts with emotion, and for a moment, I’m unable to speak. But as the weight of my despair threatens to overwhelm me, I force the words past my lips, my voice choking with tears. "Hugh, this is Anastasia. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need your help. I don't know what to do, and I'm so lost…"

My words trail off into a sob, and there's only silence on the other end of the line. My hope slides down as I wait for a response.

Just when I thought that Hugh won’t help, his voice comes through the receiver, filled with concern and compassion. "Anastasia, what happened to you? Where should I meet you?"

My heart swells with gratitude as I hear his response, a rush of relief flooding through me. 

"Thank you for picking up my call," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my tears. “I’m near the Moonlit Book Cafe.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he replies.

My cry becomes louder, snatching the attention of passers by.

“Okay. I’ll wait.”

As I drop the call and slip the phone and the calling card into my cardigan's pocket, a soft patter of rain begins to fall from the sky above. I tilt my face upwards, letting the cool droplets wash away the traces of my tears.