CHAPTER 15 – WHAT WAS THE REASON?

🦋 BENITA 🦋

My pillow was soaked in tears, unable to fathom why Felix wouldn't let me leave.

The sense of feeling trapped was choking me, I wanted to leave so desperately, to search for and find a life.

And just then it occurred to me, why do I need his permission to leave? Fuck that damn contract, I just need to go — right?

I picked up a piece of paper and began to draw a plan. Felix leaves some men at home to watch me, like a large piece of expensive beef, and he leaves one to drive me around. They wouldn't let me go if they saw me with a suitcase, nor would my driver agree to not take me to work. All I need to do is act normal, go with nothing since I was able to gather enough money, then when my driver gets me to work, I sneak away from there to a faraway city.

The plan in my head was so smooth, I could only wish it would turn out to be successful too.

I stayed alert until Felix left for work, then I added the most important thing to me into a small handbag.

I walked out of the house, and the bodyguards greeted me as usual. I got into the car and the driver drove me to work.

“Have a good day, ma'am,” he stated.

I smiled at him, “Thank you, you can go now.”

I slowly stepped towards the building, and as the driver drove away, I immediately changed direction to a place I knew no one would ever find me.

*** 🦋 ***

🦋 Felix 🦋

It has been exactly two hours since I left home for the office, and Benita still hasn't arrived.

“Is she running late?” I thought.

Shoving my thoughts aside, I buried myself with work, She's probably just running late, she'll be here soon.

But then, it was noon and there was still no sign of her, my heart skipped a beat as I thought of the probability of her being sick.

“Greg?” I called, and my secretary ran towards me. “Did you see any signs of Benita today?”

“No, sir,” he responded calmly, “She didn't come to work today.”

I thought it was weird, for someone who was desperate to save enough money, so I dialled her number, but I was sent to voicemail.

After trying several times, the number was no longer reachable.

I jumped out of my chair anxiously and called the bodyguards I left at home.

“Miss went to work this morning, boss. We watched her leave.”

I immediately hung up and called her driver, “I dropped her in the office this morning, sir.” He responded.

Confusion settled in, “But she's not here…” I thought.

Weird ideas rushed in, “Did she faint somewhere on the staircase or the elevator?”

“Greg!” I yelled, and he rushed over, “Check the entire building in search of Benita. Check the staircase and elevator.”

The entire building was swept out, and there was no sign of Benita. if she wasn't at home or at work doesn't that mean one thing, “Did she run away?” I screamed dramatically and everyone gawked at me.

I called my men again, “Benita is missing, I want you to track her down and find her.”

“We are trying to find her, sir; her phone is turned off,” they responded.

“Check the whole city, the whole country, or the whole world if you have to,” I growled. “Find Benita.”

I didn't know she was that desperate to leave, she had to run away because I didn't let her leave.

I'm exhausted and drained by the weight of unspoken words. Sadness lingers, a constant ache in my chest, as I struggle to convey the emotions boiling inside me. Frustration claws at me, a desperate cry that echoes in the silence.

All my life, I have been trapped in this limbo, torn between the longing to express my feelings to the one I love and the fear of vulnerability. The more I yearn to speak my truth, the more I'm paralysed by the risk of rejection and disappointment.

I'm stuck, unable to move forward or let go.

I called my men again, “Any news?”

“Boss, you called 5 minutes ago,” they blurted out, “We are trying our best to find her, but we think informing the police could be faster, they'll connect themselves all over the country, we will both find miss in no time. Although we haven't found her yet, we did find something else.”

“I'm not interested in anything else. Find Benita!” I retorted.

“It's about miss, sir,” he declared, “We found the face behind the voice that called you and threatened you that night. Turns out Miss Benita was indeed kidnapped that night, she got lucky and escaped.”

My mind reeled, “Benita was kidnapped?” I asked to be sure.

“Yes, boss,” he muttered, “The kidnapper confessed it himself.”

I pulled my hair in frustration. I understand why she hates me so much. Who wouldn't hate someone who demanded her dead body rather than coming to her rescue?

“Alright,” I whispered, “Call me as soon as you get any news about Benita's whereabouts.”

“What do we do with him, sir?” They asked.

“Kill him, pull out his lungs and fry them,” I snapped and hung up.

I quickly dialled the emergency number, “I'm calling to report the case of a missing person,” I announced.

But then, they ask a question they shouldn't have, a question that makes my heart race, a question I dare not give a correct answer to.

“Who is this person to you?”