Round1✔
Round2✔
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This is based on/inspired by a true story.
On a very beautiful and warm day, Tara found herself hitting rock bottom. Five monsters shattered her life, stole her dreams, and tainted her inside out.
Alone in her despai...
Shaking her head, Tara's worries gradually dissipated as no one emerged from the villa, demanding answers about her presence at their door. It became evident that the premises were unoccupied.
The house was dark and appeared to have been abandoned or unused for too long. Confusion furrowed her brows but she didn't have the time to dwell on it when someone approached her. The sound of their footsteps preceded their voice, prompting Tara to brace herself for any potential threat.
"Hey, you there," a man called. "Need any help?"
Tara grimaced before composing her expression into one of harmless, feigned innocence, then turned to him. "Me?"
The man, whom she presumed to be a farmer, blinked as if to say: there's literally no one else but the two of us. Her eye twitched, but she forced a dumb smile before pointing at the villa.
"Does anyone live here?"
His brows knitted together, suspicion never fading from his eyes. "No, not really. The owners of this house only rarely come here for vacation."
"Oh, I see. Do you happen to know who they are?" She sniffled, deliberately wiping her nose on the back of her tattered sleeve. He zeroed in on her messy, disheveled attire and smudged face, and her heart thudded harder. Was her disguise effective? Did he recognize her? Was he complicit? Had he seen her on that day? Did anyone?
"I'm sorry, kid, but I can't tell you that."
He didn't have to vocalize it for Tara to grasp his insinuation. Her shoulders slumped. The farmer was essentially dismissing her, implying that she should seek charity or scavenge elsewhere. Despite this, his expression had darkened, and he appeared eager to depart as if he wanted no involvement with anything related to the owners or their property.
It was evident that he possessed some knowledge or intuition regarding the activities that typically transpired within.
As soon as he left, Tara circled the house, scouring desperately for any clue. Had her disguise been a mistake? No, she couldn't afford the risk of being recognized. Fortunately, luck favored her when she discovered the place to be deserted.
Tara was on the verge of giving up when her eyes landed on the electrical box outside. She recalled that old houses often had similar layouts, with most of their utility boxes placed outside for the companies' convenience in noting consumption.
Her eyes widened, and she fished out her phone, hastily writing down the number on it. With the information secured, she stealthily returned to her car and sped away from the area.
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Tara sat in the kitchen, staring at a sealed packet of instant noodles, having no energy or appetite to either cook or eat. With a sigh, she grabbed her device and waited as it rang.
"Hello?"
"Uncle Jim? This is Tara, from building Z. The...pharmacist, remember me?"
Realization dawned on him, and he started bombarding her with endless questions about herself. Though she was still a student yet to graduate, Uncle Jim was committed to calling her by her job title ever since she'd helped him with his medication.
