3rd ツ

"Aaaaaah!" I screamed, hastily opening my eyes.

I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest. The cold droplets that formed on my forehead found their way down to my cheeks, and I carefully wiped them away. Looking around me, I saw that I was in an uncomfortable, rigid bed that was covered with floral sheet. And I also noticed that I was dressed in clothes that almost had the same print as the bed covering.

So unfashionable.

I continued scanning the room, trying to figure out where I was. The smell of the place was suffocating—like a room full of disinfectant—and it made me want to throw up.

"You're finally awake. Are you okay?" I heard someone say. I looked to my right and saw my mom, who was holding my right hand. Worry was painted all over her face.

"Mom?" I asked her, confused.

I looked around, and saw that I was in a room that was tinted in absolute white.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Then I felt a tingly sensation in my right arm, like something was entering my body. I looked down, and saw a needle inserted into my veins. After which, it dawned to me that I was on a hospital bed. And I was the patient? Something was definitely wrong.

"Where am I?" I asked Mom.

"Oh, dear! I'm glad you're awake now," she said, still holding my hand. Tears were touching the corners of her green eyes. Then after a moment, she started crying.

I reached out to her. "What happened?"

"Don't you remember? A car hit you yesterday," she said while sobbing. Her honey-blonde hair was all over her face and was unkempt, contrary to how she tidied it constantly before. Then she cupped my right hand with both of hers, and tenderly caressed it with her face. Thoughts came into my mind, as I tried to remember what had happened.

I reckoned that I did remember a car coming my way before everything went blank. A car? Um, yesterday? Oh, yeah. So yesterday did really happen.

For a moment, I thought that it was all part of a dream. But as if to answer my speculations, the memories of yesterday came back to me in a flash. I closed my eyes, and let out a big sigh. Now tell me that surviving was the only good thing that had happened to me.

"Are you okay, dear?" Mom asked, worriedly.

No, Mom. I lost my job and my boyfriend broke up with me and all my savings were gone. How was I supposed to be okay? But I held it back, knowing that this wasn't the right time to blabber about all that. I just pretended to have a headache instead. "Oh... my... head."

"I'll—I'll call the doctor," she said, touching my hand before heading outside. Yeah, it wasn't as if the doctor could reverse everything that had happened yesterday. I needed something more than that—of the supernatural level.

Why did I even survive?

After a while, I heard the door creak open. Keeping my eyes closed, I hadn't bothered to look at it, knowing that it was just my mom and a doctor. I supposed. Then in a while, I felt someone holding my forehead and putting something cold on my chest. I opened my eyes and saw a doctor examining me.

"Are you feeling okay?" the doctor asked.

I narrowed my eyes in dismay, as I cringed at the word okay. I closed my eyes again, and replied a cold-hearted, "No."

"Oh." He seemed to be surprised with my answer. "Your test results came in and everything seemed to be fine. Are you hurting anywhere?"

Test results.

I silently laughed to myself, as if those test results could elaborate what was going on with my life right now. My whole life was a mess. I replied with a sigh, "No. Actually, I'm feeling all better and ready to go out."

He blinked twice and looked at me questioningly. Then he cleared his throat and finally said, "Then I guess I can let you go out today."

I nodded in agreement.

"I'll get on with the papers," Mom said, as she walked out of the room with the doctor, discussing things.

I removed the needle from my arm, wanting to get out of here this instant. The nurse seemed to be displeased with what I had done and put some cotton and tape over the puncture. I survived a car accident. What could losing minute amounts of blood do to me?

Then shortly after, following some unfavorable remarks from my attending nurse while she helped me put on some normal clothes, I was guided out of the hospital. And after a moment of paper works, I finally got discharged and was guided out.

Argh. I hated that reeking smell.

Looking at myself, I knew I wasn't hurting anymore, physically speaking, though. I got bluish bruises on my legs, but that was it. And a scratch or two. Well, maybe just a minor headache every now and then that I was sure would go away in no time. Still, being alive after all that, could that be considered an achievement?

It must be so.

***

I asked my mom to bring me back to my apartment, instead of letting her drag me back to our old house. But of course, my mom didn't let me off that easy. We had several minutes or one full session of bickering in the car, before she had finally agreed to drop me off in front of my apartment.

All in all, the patient was always right.

Saying a quick goodbye, I went inside my apartment and saw the mess. All my things were still on the floor, but I hadn't bothered to pick them up. Instead, I lazily lay down on the sofa. Now, since I was jobless, heartbroken, and didn't have a single cent, what was I supposed to do?

I picked myself up and opened my laptop to look at my horoscope for the day:

Today is the day when you mend those loose threads in your life. You need to fix some things in order to get over your bad luck. Maybe you want to visit some fortune teller to tell you what to do. A bright future awaits you, so get up and get going!

I suddenly felt alive as I read the words. The horoscope was once again correct. I only needed to fix my bad luck and everything would turn out fine. I might even get a call from Aaron. And then I would find a nice job tomorrow. Sandy would be able to get back all our savings. All I needed to do was to fix this bad luck.

I took a quick shower to remove the hospital smell that lingered on my skin. Finally, after scrubbing myself until I was officially spotless, I felt fresh and clean. I managed to get out alive from everything that happened. There must be a grander plan for me after all.

I put on some fresh clothes and got out. I went down the next block and saw the fortune teller's shop on the right. I sort of heard that there was one here. And I knew that this place held the perfect answer for my not so lucky yesterday.

When I was a little way from it, I paused for a while and assessed the place. Okay, honestly speaking, it was kind of creepy. The sign was crooked; it was like a storm had passed by and no one bothered to straighten it out. There were cobwebs everywhere. Was that part of the shop or did the spiders find their home here after several years of neglect?

I pushed the door and it creaked open—creepily—which sent goose bumps all over my body. The room was dimly lit, and I wasn't able to clearly see anything except for the total darkness.

I tried asking, "Anyone there?"

For a moment, no one answered. Then as I was about to go back, I heard someone say an eerie, "Come in."

I looked around and was caught off guard when I saw the fortune teller's table lit up against the dark room. Startled, I took several steps back. Quite the effects, huh?

Then after a while, I saw an old lady dressed in all black, who was holding a magic ball in her hands, sitting behind the table. She asked me to take a seat in the chair in front of her. I hesitantly obeyed. I wasn't quite sure about all this now, but I convinced myself that it wouldn't hurt to try.

"I know what you came here for," she started. Wow. She already knew. She was good. I nodded and she went on, "You had quite a bad luck yesterday, didn't you?"

I hastily nodded in agreement. "And what did you suppose was the reason for that?"

She rubbed her magic ball. "You offended a soul years ago."

I blinked twice. What was she talking about? Me? Offending anyone? Let alone a soul. I was starting to doubt her ingenuity.

"You've hurt an earnest soul who sincerely loved you," she continued.

Okay, definitely fake.

"Really?" I wondered what we were talking about. She said that I had hurt a soul that had loved me. Well, I had to admit that I did dump a few guys before.

Not sure about souls.

"A boy who gave his whole heart to you," she said.

Oh, right. A boy. But were we on the same page? "How many years ago are we talking about?"

"Ten years," she answered, grittily, as she was getting sort of exorcised. I didn't really know the term. But she looked as if her eyes might reach the ceiling any time soon. Was that a special talent or something? Or was it part of her act? Or maybe it is a necessity for fortune tellers?

So perhaps I needed to put some thought into it. She seemed to be convinced that I had dumped someone during that time. I felt sorry for her eyes, too. So that would be ten years ago. I was eighteen back then. Did I dump anyone at that time?

I thought hard about it, wondering who my boyfriend was during that time. I was with... what was his name again? Jonathan! Yes, Jonathan. He was my second boyfriend and we met in college. But we did break up a year after so I guessed he wouldn't count.

"I don't really know what you're talking about," I told her. Honestly, I was with a guy at that time, so how could I possibly dump anyone? I wasn't a cheater, mind you. I was the one who was getting cheated out here.

"There was this boy, one whose heart you disregarded. Fate is getting back at you. And if he will not forgive you right away, your bad luck will continue," the fortuneteller told me.

"Okay, I have no idea what you are talking about. It's starting to get creepy. Here's my pay. I'm leaving," I said, putting down some bills and coins on her table and walked away, annoyed.

"You must definitely ask his forgiveness, young lady," she continued saying as I headed out of the door.

"If I know who you are talking about! And as if there's one!" I closed the door shut from the outside. I held it steady because it almost fell down on me. This place needed more renovation than what I had thought. What a creepy old lady. I couldn't believe that she had accused me of something that I didn't do.

Sure, I hurt a soul.

"Hey! Are you getting yourself killed?" I was startled by the voice of a taxi driver who angrily ranted at my direction as I was on my way back to my apartment.

I turned to him and realized that I was standing in the middle of the pedestrian lane instead of crossing it. Honks resounded from all sides. Given everyone who seemed to notice—with me right in the middle of the lane and all—I hurriedly crossed it.

I almost got killed again. Was I getting addicted to getting hit by a car?

And then I stopped.

No, that couldn't be. My luck was still that bad? I shook my head. This was just a total coincidence. I shouldn't believe those words that the old lady said.

I continued walking back to my apartment. But all of a sudden, out of nowhere—or perhaps shrill thin air—a pot almost fell on my head. And I barely missed it. Staring at the shattered pot near my feet, my eyes widened in shock.

What if that thing hit my head? I'd be so dead by now.

I looked up and saw a lady, stunned, looking straight at me. "Are you okay, dear?"

"I'm... fine," I stuttered.

Although I wasn't sure about that.

I assured myself that this was just another coincidence. Feeling light-headed and uncertain, I started walking again and looked around me. There was nothing that could possibly harm me here. Everyone seemed pretty harmless anyway. There were kids playing on one side and some old ladies chattering while having a cup of tea. Okay, the coast was clear. I officially declared that what had happened earlier was only a coincidence.

However, as I walked around the block, a motorbike came running fast towards me. The screech of its tire echoed right in front of me, hard. I barely managed to dodge it in time, and it almost hit me head on. And so in turn, rationally, I shrieked in horror.

Where did that come from?

With the uneven beating of my heart, I shook my head wildly in denial, still. You were not actually telling me that what that old fortuneteller said was true?

I hurriedly went back home and grabbed my bag. I had to find out what she was talking about, or else, I would probably be dead tomorrow morning. I was only twenty-eight, and I hadn't done much just to die out of the blue.

I locked the door of my apartment and waited for a bus. Good thing that buses were quite common at this hour. The hour-long bus ride almost killed me, if not everything else that had happened yesterday and today. And the moment that I got off the bus, I sprinted my way to our house.

"Mom? Are you there?" I asked, pounding the door.

My mother opened it up a minute later, surprised to see me, of course. "Is everything okay, dear? Are you feeling unwell?"

Right. I had just recently put down her offer of taking care of me here at home. I had to fake some kind of pain, so she wouldn't be suspicious. I dramatically pointed to my right arm, "Mom, I'm not feeling well. I kind of have a pain, um, here."

"But the doctor said that you didn't have a broken bone," she said, looking worriedly at my right arm. I should have rubbed it a little before for it to look a bit reddish.

"Err, muscle pain! Yes, that one. Not that bad but can I stay over for a while?" I asked, still pretending that my arm was painful.

"It's okay, dear. You can stay here anytime," my mom assured me.

"Is Dad home?" I asked her, looking inside.

"He will be around at six," she answered. My dad was a college professor in a university nearby, and it was his life-long passion. Well, aside from his other passions to which I was undoubtedly included, like for example, getting me married or something.

I sighed.

"Do you want something to eat?" Mom asked, after she closed the door when I entered in.

"I'll come down later. I'll go get something from my room first," I said to her, and then headed upstairs to where my old room was. It was the same old path I'd taken to and fro for years, and it surely brought back warm memories.

I opened the door and removed the white cloth that covered my bookcase. I coughed a little as I inhaled some of the dust that fell off. I guessed that it couldn't be help because my room hadn't been used for years. Same old place where my bed was positioned. The same old things I'd kept before.

I traced the desk with my fingers, reminiscing the times when I used to sit here all day and write things out in my diary. That was my answer—my diary. I hadn't used it since I was in my last year in the university. But it did keep records of the previous years, which I was certain included that certain person that fortune teller was talking about.

And after all those years of writing from way back then, it became kind of piled up by now. I had a dozen of journals in my room. I grabbed one from the bookcase and looked carefully at the date, making something from the smudged writings.

Nope, not this one.

I put it back and grabbed the next one beside it.

High school.

Okay, maybe I'd start with this.

I pulled the rest of my high school journals, up to the ones that touched my first days in college and put everything in my bag. I would read it later and bring it with me back to my apartment. I thought that maybe I would be in need of some reference as I pressed on my journey of finding out the culprit for my bad luck.

When I went downstairs, my dad was home. He was looking straight at me. And he was like the last person on earth I wanted to see right now. Not after the break-up with Aaron.

"So you've actually found some time to visit us," he said. I hurried to his side and planted a kiss on his cheek. There, that would do the trick. I was the youngest of four and my daddy's favorite, since I was the only girl. And yes, he was worried because of all that. All my brothers were happily married by now and already had a family of their own. I was the only one who had been left behind. No child to carry around. It was not as if I had chosen this kind of life myself. If it wasn't for that stupid luck, I should be the happiest person on earth by now.

Hello? Valentine's Day proposal?

"What's with the bag? I thought you were staying for dinner?" my mom asked, eyeing the bag that I was carrying. I looked at myself and realized that I looked like I was about to knock off any moment soon.

Well, I was not planning to stay. But since it turned out this way, I guessed it couldn't be helped. Dad would start the sermon anytime now. I put down my bag and told them, "I'm going to sleep here. It's kind of dusty upstairs."

"I haven't known that you'll be coming over, so I haven't cleaned your room for long," Mom replied.

"I'm okay on the sofa," I assured her, smiling wildly as I patted the soft cushion.

"What about your arm?" she asked worriedly. "Will you be all right? You can sleep in our room, or we can clean your bed if you want."

"Oh, my arm's okay now," I said as I raised my right arm. "See? All better."

My mom nodded silently for a while, unconvinced. "If you say so, honey."

She disappeared into the kitchen and I followed her. Between Dad and Mom, with regards to the situation, I'd definitely choose Mom in a heartbeat. I helped her get the dishes and put it on the table. After getting everything ready, Mom called my dad to join us. Then we said a prayer and started eating.

The silence persisted longer than expected. It had been two minutes, and my dad still wasn't saying a word. I tapped my foot under the table as I awaited my dad's long speech. And then after a count of twenty, it began, "Kayla, when are you going to settle down with Aaron?"

And I was so glad that I already prepared an answer for that. I managed to devise something while I got the table ready a while ago. I gulped some water and cleared my throat, before I answered, "Actually, Dad, I broke up with him a year ago."

My Dad choked on his food.

"But I got engaged to some good guy out there. We're planning to get married this year if everything goes well," I hurriedly told him the rest of my story, as my mom patted him on the back. He choked again on his food. Was my story that bad? "Aren't you happy for me and..."

Names, Kayla. Think.

"And?"

"His name is... John and he's a..." Seriously? Did I have to run out of stories now? I had never thought my dad would actually find my story so untruthful and surprising. But gladly, after minutes of fiddling with my fingers, a thought came into mind. "He's a... hotelier. Yes, and he's single, of course. Why will I marry a married man, right? And then, he'll be... married... yes, married to me this year."

I had no clue where that hotelier came from. But it sounded nice, so I might as well use that. Actually, I had this fancy thought of marrying a rich man who owned a hotel. And then I'd be walking down the halls of that prestigious hotel in my heels, ordering people around since I'd technically be the wife of Mr. Hotelier or something. If not, then I guessed I'd be into marrying the next president. Wait, then he would be kind of old. Or maybe a future president who had a telecommunication company as of the moment?

Or just Aaron. I mean he had a nice job working as a consultant and I loved him so much.

My mom passed a glass of water to Dad. My dad hurriedly gulped it all. He then cleared his throat and asked bluntly, "Are you making up a story?"

Okay, so my Dad could easily read me off. There was no point in lying. And thus, after so much effort in putting up a story, I finally admitted, "Um... yes?"

"Is everything alright, dear?" Mom asked. "What happened to Aaron?"

"We broke up last night," I said and instantly sunk lower in my seat. Did we really have to talk about it right now? As far as I knew, I was still in the process of getting over him. And it had only been a conscious day or so.

Mom hurried to my side and brushed my hair. "Are you okay?"

Okay, so I hated it when she did that. I always felt like bawling my eyes out whenever my mom softly caressed my hair to comfort me. But I disliked crying in front of anyone and detested showing off my weakness.

Those were unnecessary.

"Of course, I'm okay. Pfft. I'm fine!" Yeah, it was no big deal. Aaron and I had only been together for two years. He also cheated on me to top all that. Oh, did I mention that he was getting married to another woman? Not a big deal indeed. I would be fine.

Totally.

Yeah, that must be so, but things would change once I got my hand on the freak who put this curse on me. I would soon get pass through all this mess and Aaron would be coming back. And then, I would get all my money back. And if everything would go really well, I would find a new job, too.

Perfect!

I convinced myself full well about my fated happy life. But suddenly, I felt the corner of my eyes moistened as my mom hugged me from behind.

I had to make an excuse before I'd bawl my eyes out here. I hurriedly grabbed my phone out of my pocket. The two could think that I had a telepathic ringing tone, and that was why they didn't hear it. Then I started to fake a conversation, "Hello? Yes, Kayla here. What? You haven't finished it yet?"

Mom pulled back for a moment, as I excused myself out of the table and talked on the phone like I was some angry boss who just found out that the presentation for tomorrow wasn't finished yet. Then after a minute of nautical nonsense, I angrily put down the phone and impatiently tapped my head with my forefinger.

"Is there anything wrong?" Dad asked, as he watched my oblivious display of pretensions.

Hey, I could be a pretty good actress at times. This act sounded believable to them, I think. I mean, Dad didn't say it in such manner as the one he used a moment ago. I looked at him, still annoyed, supposedly, and answered, "Yes, there are some problems at the office. I'm afraid I have to get back tonight."

"Are you really going to leave now?" Mom looked outside. It was already late at night.

I hugged both of them and said, "I'll be visiting you guys some other time. I just got some more work to finish."

Dad's eyes grew sterner. Oops! Let me take back that best actress award. It appeared that he wasn't convinced, but he did let me go nevertheless. My mom was still worried about my painful arm, but I told her that it already got better when I saw her. She had a soft spot for that. I said goodbye once again, and hurried outside towards the bus station. Good thing I managed to get on the last trip.

When I got on the bus, I hurriedly look into the first journal. I had this feeling like I'd be dead in the streets if I wouldn't be able to find out that soul's identity. This person had to have a valid excuse for making my life this miserable. Or else, I'd hunt him down and make him pay.

And then in turn he'd use his super magical powers and make me pay again.

Fine.

I would just ask for forgiveness if that would all it takes for me to have my perfect life back. It was going well as planned until the curse came around.

I started scanning the pages, looking intently for any boy's name. There wasn't many. Then finally, after a long and seemingly futile search, I came across the first name—Carter Ross.

de·ni·al

noun \di-ˈnī(-ə)l, dē-\

: a statement saying that something is not true or real : a statement in which someone denies something

psychology : a condition in which someone will not admit that something sad, painful, etc., is true or real

: the act of not allowing someone to have something