SHE'S NOT A SAINT (MIKHAIAH) by: Pinkvettes

Chapter 14: underestimated just who she was stealing from

Notes:

Haloooo buhay na buhay pa po ako 💙

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

I want the parts of you you only show

To the birds outside your bedroom window

I want the teeth that you lost as a child

That you hide in a box under your pillow

I want your quiet, your screaming and thrashing

The salt on your lips and the hands that God gave you

And I want your violence, your silent sedation

Your moon eyes, your telescope, morbid fixation

Jacks’s coworker had an actual eventful life. Jacks did not. That's why his coworker got the night off to celebrate the tenth birthday of his daughter, but Jacks was stuck here, picking up his graveyard shift once again. Jacks sank down the creaky wooden chair by the front door of the cafe, his displeasure boiling beneath the surface. He finally took a sip of the coffee he had been holding for who knew how long. It was bitter and cheap, far from his workplace’s overpriced ones he refused to purchase, but it was something to pass the time, at least.

His eyes fell on the other edge of the shore and the far-off glimmer of lights. If nothing else, he was glad he didn't work at one of the unruly bars further down the strip, where his night would be surrounded by the stink of vomit and spilled beer. He didn't have to deal with aggressive drunkards or naive minors who thought they could get away with their fake IDs. The occasional late night beach wanderer in search of a cup of coffee was the most he had to deal with.

Or at least that’s what he thought. Jacks, needing something to break up the monotony, decided to step out back for a quick smoke break and headed toward the darkened alley behind the cafe. No one would notice, anyway, he figured. He had been expecting another boring, uneventful night. But as he reached for his lighter, a sudden, sharp grip on his arms stopped him before he could illuminate the surrounding darkness with its spark. For a moment, he thought he had been grabbed by a supernatural entity as his heart leapt into his throat. But as he turned, he was met with a girl's wide, frantic eyes. She was real, from her dripping clothes to her hair, soaking wet. She was real and yet she looked like a ghostly figure who had lost all the color in her.

“Tulungan niyo ko! Please.” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with fear. “She’s… she’s not breathing. Tulungan niyo po ko.”

Jacks could hardly hear most of her words as they came out in a blur. This was something out of a suspense movie, and he was beginning to feel just as nervous as the girl who kept repeating the same thing over and over.

“Please po. I don’t think she’s breathing.”

“Miss, kumalma ka nga!” Jacks said, steadying his hand on her shoulder. Maryosep, mga kabataang to, he thought. Still, he kept his calm, one of them had to. “Hindi kita matutulungan kung di kita maintindihan.”

“Kailangan po natin magmadali, please.”

“Anong pangalan mo, iha?”

Aiah

The things I do in the solitude of my room are secrets I would surely take to my grave. There was no doubt of it, especially now as I hunched over my laptop, giving birth to a plan that had only started as an obscure fantasy. My heart raced as my fingers took a life of their own, typing the words into the search bar: Ways to sabotage a track athlete.