Amanda

Chapter 20

a/n: i have decided to switch to english for the remaining chapters (i realized ang hirap mag taglish haha) this might change the tone of the story but i'll try to make it work! thanks for reading! xoxo.

Exhaustion has crept in, beating behind my eyelids; my eyes stings. It was difficult to sleep, not when I have been up for 3 days? 4? 5? I couldn't tell what day it is now. If two police officers shifts ended, I consider it one day.. and I have been counting ever since.

I wasn't locked up with the other prisoners, I have my own cell- enough for one person to pace around for about five steps. With a cramped bed, even curling myself in a fetal position isn't enough to fit me in. The smell of my own putrid crap filled this cell, even though the toilet has a lid cover. Basically, it's just a few feet away from me, and my nose somewhat became too used to it that I only remember it each time an officer comments something like.. 'Ah fuck, the smell here is fucking gross. It's cruel of them to assign me here, how can I eat my lunch in here?' it's different each time, but the sentiment is there.

The more I stare at the cracks in the ceiling above me, the more it seemed to wiggle on its own. I tried once to not blink at all, in the dimness of my cell, the ceiling seemed to lower and when it's about to crush me- like a fish, I would gasp and sit up immediately, as If i just got myself out of a water; my sweaty hair sticking in my greasy forehead.

A light shoned from outside my cell, it mingled on the floor followed by footsteps. My hands flailingly tried to block the blinding light once it instantly focused on my face. I was so accustomed to the darkness, that being pointed by a flashlight was like being rubbed with salt on an open flesh wound. I hissed, gaze unfocused. I heard a mumble, but I couldn't pinpoint who these people are.

"Is he really the guy in this photo? damn, being locked up in here for ages really does changes you," uttered by a female voice, it was gruff, almost raspy yet there's a hint of feminine on it regardless.

The light moved downwards, to where I was sitting, on a bed that has far superseded it's use as a bed and has morphed into a slob of concrete dirt, an accumulation from all the past prisoners who were onced in here. I wondered for a moment where they are right now. Maybe they escaped, or died from depression or sickness, or got bailed out or- my train of thoughts was cut off when their voice slowly seeped its way in my hearing- like an echo.

"You, you are coming with us."

It was a season of politician aspirations as the election is just around the corner. The steady rise of people moving in to live in this small, sleepy city is evident for the past couple of years but the horrible unsolved cases affected tourism and the reputation of the current Mayor running for the same position. In an attempt to address this, an Investigation HQ was established in the heart of the city.

"He doesn't look anything alike in the photo, ma'am!" a female officer commented, who was the one holding stacks of folders securely in her arms.

"Yeah, a treat in the eyes for sure." The other female officer beside her mused with a dry chuckle. She was the one holding a flashlight, inspecting the current state of the man in the cell. Yngrid was the chief officer, the one supervising the handling of this strange cases.

They have come here to meet the so called culprit, even when there's not enough substantial evidence- the local police instead did what they are good at- planting fake evidence. He was supposed to be detained indefinitely until they could find the real culprit, if there ever was one, but when the investigation hit rock bottom, it left them to use whatever means they have to deal with the growing unrest in the city.

"Get him to have a bath first, Mitch." Yngrid, a five-seven feet tall chief officer, left the vicinity first and let her trusted junior to do the work. Mitch always gets the grunt work, but she wasn't complaining most of the time, since this is her first case to be working closely with her senior.

Peace settled for a good amount of time, exactly a month but shit hits the fan again, this time dead bodies kept piling up even when Miguel is locked up. It was pretty useless to have him holed up in his cell, this is what Yngrid has in mind, when he has more use as the only clue to this bizarre case.

There wasn't even a clock in this familiar white walled room, this bugged Miguel for a bit. The two officers introduced themselves to him. He noticed their uniforms were different from the local police. They both wore a dark navy varsity jacket with an MPD print on the back part. They have their own unique small badge that identifies them as a police unit tasked to deal with sensitive and difficult cases.

"We did our own research before coming in this city, by the looks of it, you probably already had a gist of a certain tradition they once have," Yngrid broke the silence, obviously not beating around the bush. "It's a forgotten bleak part of their history, only certain people has the key for us to be able to dig deeper into it.." It was like she was dropping hints in his face but Miggy wasn't in the right head space. "We only have a little information about the Montenegre family, they were a family who received backlash for their so called.." Yngrid quote unquote her fingers in the air. "healing abilities or a devil magic to put it bluntly."

Mitch left the office to answer a call and left the two, it seemed a deal is about to be striked. Miguel wonder what it was. "Julya Montenegre has an interesting story, the forerunner of the witch burning tradition.. She was surprisingly the one so vehemently against the use of their so called healing abilities- even to the point of spitting in her own religion, Bellitas- and converted to Christianity.. but her descent to madness seems to stem from the inability to conceive a child." Miguel found himself listening intently, recounting the time he also discovered bits of information but not as specific as this.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Miguel cut her off. Yngrid leaned back in her chair and lighted a cigarette. She puffed a few smoke before answering. "Our investigation led us to disregard the first answer we came up, that Amanda Montenegre is a victim, and instead the possibility of her being the one in the center of all this is the one that makes most sense." She wasn't still answering his question.

"Her family's history is already a big lead.. if we could just track her down.. say, if you help us in exchange for clearing your name of your criminal records, what do you think?"

Miguel thought he didn't have much choice in the matter, he will be forced to cooperate anyway but with a deal on the table, it sounded like they were being generous to him. After silence stretched for a good amount of seconds, he spoke. "Alright."