The Witness

Chapter 12 - Refuge

"Iha, are you sure you don't want to go to the police?" asked the taxi driver.

In the backseat, Rosa tapped her finger impatiently on her lap, waiting for the heavy traffic to start moving again. She needed to get where she wanted to go before her mother or uncle would call the police. She didn't hear the taxi driver's question.

"Iha," he said again, "do you want to go to the police?"

Rosa turned to him and caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. At first, and as usual, she did not recognize herself. The girl in the reflection had a bruised right cheek and a busted lip. Rosa shook her head.

"No," she said. "I'm alright. Please just drive me to the address I gave you."

The driver nodded and the traffic started to move forward.

***

Atty. Steven Alinsangan's residence was in a string of humble townhouses just outside Paranaque City. It was a sleepy, quiet middle-class neighborhood surrounded by wide patches of unused land and untended greenery. When the taxi stopped in front of the address, Rosa hesitated for a moment.

The taxi checked the address again. "Yes, it's here."

Rosa took a deep breath. It's now or never, she decided. She paid the driver and waited until his taxi was out of sight before walking up to the porch of the townhouse and ringing the doorbell.

It was around eight in the morning. Somewhere in Manila, Rosa's classmates were lining up. Her mother and uncle were likely talking in loud, angry voices. Miguel might have found the diary. And Rosa waited for what might be the difference between her death and new life.

Not long after she rang the doorbell, someone answered. It was a woman who appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she wore a light brown duster with a floral pattern. Despite her plain old-fashioned clothing and hairstyle, she appeared young, soft, and tired. She looked at Rosa curiously.

"Who are you?" she asked. Her voice was kind, and almost musical. It was the same voice that answered Rosa when she first called the number. "Who are you?" she asked again. "And are you alright?"

During the long ride to the house, Rosa had rehearsed in her mind what she wanted to tell the lawyer. She wasn't able to settle with one script. She could start with, "I tried calling you, but you wouldn't answer." Or, "I can help you with Joaquin de la Cruz's case." She also pondered with the rhetorical, "Is this the residence of Atty. Steven Alinsangan?" even when she knew the answer.

But now, standing in front of the woman, Rosa could only burst into tears.

"Help me," she said.

***

For once, luck was on Rosa's side. Atty. Alinsangan was home, and his wife (the woman who answered Rosa) called him downstairs to listen to her story. The lawyer had decided to take a leave because of terrible migraines caused by overtime duties and stress. Dazed and sleepy-eyed, he trudged downstairs and took his place beside his wife on a long sofa across a single-seater which Rosa, at first, reluctantly occupied.

"Don't be afraid," the lawyer said. "Our ears and minds are open." His voice was just as gentle as his wife's.

Rosa took a deep breath and narrated her unbelievable journey. The whole time, she observed the lawyer's reactions. He kept a straight face, showed no reactions, and said nothing the whole time. He did not even take notes. When Rosa was done, she waited for him to kick her out of his house.

Instead, he looked at her right in the eye. "Rosa," he said, "you're the answer to our prayers."

She did not know how to reply.