Beyond the Bounds

Chapter One

ELEANOR

August 6, 2016

Help me. I cannot believe what's happening to me right now.

The clock is ticking in this overly tensed room but all I could hear was the beat of my own heart. Thump thump thump. This is it. I'm finally in college.

School starts in three days. THREE DAYS. I couldn't help but think about all the possibilities I have ahead of me. Is this finally the time in my life where the people I pass by in the halls are undercover drug dealers? Or maybe the friends I make pressure me into taking weed with them on the rooftop? This is it—a whole new chapter in my life that I'm ready to conquer with full armour.

"I'm going to kick college's ass won't I?" I asked my supportive mom while she packs the clothes that I was supposed to be packing myself. My first year in college; I couldn't quite put into words how crazy this is.

"Yes you will sweetie, yes you will" she answered with no hesitation.

I confidently hopped off the top of my wooden drawers and sat beside my mom on the ground. "You think I'll do well?"

"You will if you help me pack up your stuff."

I mouthed a shy sorry and grabbed a bunch of clothes to bring with me to Manila. It would probably feel more comforting if I were just staying there for a short while, or if I had just rented a condominium or a dorm room. In that way, I would be rest assured that I'd come back home one way or another.

But of course, why oh why would my family let me live in a place which was not mine? Yup, they indeed bought a house for me in Manila so I could live closer to my university. You thought condominiums were expensive and all that, but for my parents, they "only want what's best for me." In their logic, they think buying a house is I emphasize--safer--than living in a dorm with people you don't know, or safer than staying at a condominium with possible murderers as neighbours.

I know, it's obvious where I got my crazy from.

For weeks I urged them to just allow me stay in a dorm room like any other normal college student. However, I always knew that forcing them would get me nowhere. On the other hand, whenever I get Christmas breaks or any other family holidays, they were coming home to visit me. Not very exciting.

In my defense though, I'm not complaining.

Because of this, I had to clear out my closet and bring basically 99.5% of my stuff to the new house.  I got at least four years to live in that house; four years of Biology. That is, unless, my family decides to go back to San Francisco and continue our abandoned life there; something which I highly doubt. My life was peaceful and undisturbed back in San Francisco, not until my parents decided it was better if I started High School in their hometown and the place where I got my 100% nationality from a.k.a. the Philippines.

I couldn't say, however, that they bought the house just for me as a reason. They also needed a house in Manila for business related stuff.  But until the time comes that they would actually need it, I would be occupying the lonely three story house by myself. Not like I'm not used to loneliness.

I had approximately sixteen hours till I leave for Manila. A truck had already come over hours ago to pick up at least half of my stuff. They're coming back tomorrow to pick up the rest of the boxes, together with me and my mom. My awesome mother is staying with me for the first two weeks. She just wanted to see how I'd handle living alone and wanted to teach me the do's and don't that I probably already know and heard from her a billion times.

I hear the clock ticking slowly, surely, and before I knew it, it was morning the next day. I'm leaving today.

There I was, a bag over my shoulder, four minutes till I leave en route Manila. I said my unwanted goodbyes; my father gave me a kiss on the forehead, while it was evident that my brother, Evan, was trying to hold back his nine year old tears. I've never been voluntarily away from my brother for so long and it's breaking my heart to see how he's handling the situation—not well but trying hard to be a man about it.

We arrived at our house in Manila later that day. My mom obviously showed exhaustion from driving when she asked me if I could unload the first few boxes myself. But being the good daughter that I am, I went to explore the house before doing anything drastic.

It was exactly how my mom described it to me. Exteriorly, it was a regular looking three story house with cement painted in white and grey. There was a garage on the side for our car and a small space in front if ever I convinced my parents into getting a puppy (which won't ever happen by the way). Inside the house was different news. The first thing you'd see was the living room with its long brown couch across the room and a television just a few feet away from it. The dining room was up next and just across from it was the place that I'd probably be spending a whole lot of time in; the kitchen. It was obvious that we still lacked silverware and all that, but we already had some "start-up" kitchenware from the boxes that I was supposed to be unloading by now.

I then went up the stairs and into the hallway. I counted all the doors. 1, 2, 3, 4—which lucky room shall I reside in? I played eenie meenie miny mo with the rooms before finding the perfect one that I was undoubtedly occupying. As soon as I creaked the door open, I could already feel the room's presence calling out to me.

The bedroom I chose was at the end of the hall. It consisted of a queen sized bed and just in front of it was a dresser with a mirror. Perfect! Just so I could see the mess I am when I wake up in the morning.

Although, that really wasn't the best part. Another door inside the room instantly caught my attention. As I swing the door open, I was pleased to discover that it was my own bathroom! It felt like I was in my own hotel room and secretly, I hoped this enjoyment wouldn't be a hindrance to my college life. I mean, hello? This design is perfect for lazy slumps like me.

I went inside the bathroom and tried to picture myself doing my daily tasks here. You know, the typical brush-my-teeth-check-myself-out morning routine. I opened the faucet and twisted it until the end, "Wow, what a slow running water for such a nice house." I voiced out my thoughts. I turned it back the other way to close it and went out of the room.

There was another staircase leading to the third floor. It was obviously leading to the attic and never in my wildest dreams would I dare go up there alone. Not unless the sun is fully shining down on me and I had a rosary in hand for protection. I'm openly afraid of ghosts and no way would I consider taking an adventure to my death.

I quickly went back downstairs to actually help with the unpacking.

The house obviously isn't new. I looked around and examined every inch. I could almost see the traces of the people who lived here. This was just sold to my mom a few weeks ago. It was like a rush property sale and it apparently happened to be the perfect house with the perfect location.

"Why are the waters so weak?" I asked mom as soon as I got down.

"Really?" My mom questioned and walked over to the kitchen sink. She opened it and normal running water passes through, "It seems pretty normal to me."

"I mean, in my room. It's not powerful enough."

"Maybe there's just something blocking the faucet. If it disturbs you that much, there are a lot of faucets in this house besides the one in your room."

That night, I asked my mom if she could sleep together with me since I was such a whimp and a total scaredy cat. But all I got was a lecture about how I'm going to be alone in this house eventually. She scolded me and emphasized on the word alone—as if it didn't creeped me out the first time.

I went to bed anyway. I tried ignoring any external sounds that weren't produced by my body. I ignored the faucet dripping, the static in my ears, and the fan whirling on number three. Then I dreamt, and I dreamt, and I dreamt.