If I were to die . . . I want to be alone.
I have lived alone, thus I'll die alone.

I want to die where the crows are going to sing me a happy song.
I want my deathbed on an isolated land—
where the beautiful trees, fertile lands, and growing flowers are.

I want my flesh to be withered on the surface,
where my remnants will be perceived by some strangers.

I want to die where no one is mourning for me.
I want to die where no one can remember me.
Non-existent. No identity. Nothing.

I'm actually tired.
I want to close my eyes without opening them up again.

I can't say things. I'm afraid to speak for myself.
Friends? Family? Not enough.
They will never understand and I don't want them to know.

I will just wait for the time when my own death speaks for myself.
But how can I, though?

I'm already dead by then.

Those were the words that had left astray on my mind as I walked on the long . . . very, very long, dark road. I had walked a lot of miles—a hundred, even . . . If I could count well.

The heavens, might as well as the hell, had known how much a mess I became.

I am lonely. I am frightfully lonely. If I would describe myself now, then I felt like I was standing upon a solitary star, looking at the dark, empty world. I became so bored just staring at the black space. The world was just a sea of nothingness. An indistinctive world.

And humans . . . Ah, don't get me started.

I had left home. I had no intention of going back again. Well, actually, I had. I wanted to take some of my dolls in that house. I would surely miss Yanna and Sofia. Or Yanna would be enough. But I didn't want to. I was very sure that I wouldn't be welcomed there again.

Of course, my father would cut the ties between us. By means of school tuition, allowances, and the whatnots. Thus, it was way better to wander on the streets than living on that raggy house.

But walking miles and miles away was really, really tiring. I couldn't feel my legs that much. I was thirsty and hungry. I even hadn't gotten myself asleep.

It was the darkest time of the night. I had no idea what was the exact time. But since the gibbous moon had reached approximately 130° angle on the west orientation, then I could presume that it was more or less one o'clock in the midnight.

I sighed, continuously walking. Where am I, though? I led myself on the road I wasn't familiar with. I walked alone on the deserted rural road. The wind blew and whispered through me. The wind was there, but never spoke to me.

I must be really out of my mind. Who would do such as crazy thing as this? Leaving without a direction . . . Money, too.

All I had is my damned self. My worthless self.

The wilderness beside me was something that I had never experienced before. It seemed like the time was moving so slow. I felt so nauseated and weak. My body couldn't bear the exhaustion any longer and my spirit was about to fail as well. 

Each minute felt like an eternity. With my pathetic self, time remained moving around me. Anger lingered me up, but all I ought to do was to endure the pain and hold back my tears.

Unconsciously, I fell down on the ground with a satisfying thud. I landed on my face and tasted the bitter and earthy taste of the soil, but I managed to turn around so that I could stare at the night sky.

If I were to die . . . I want to be alone.
I have lived alone, thus I'll die alone.

Only if I could die today. But I knew that I wouldn't be. I was only dead tired on this ghost-quiet night. 

What is within my heart that no one ever could know?

Maybe . . . The heart of the one who traveled alone.

What do I compare my heart to?

To the loneliness of being alone.

Say . . . If my wish will be granted,

Then everything would end. I will end.

But I was highly mistaken.

That day would never come. I will never end.

Or at least for now.

I took a deep breath and started reaching my arms out, tried grasping the empty sky.

Yet there was no salvation within my reach. It was never all right to repeat this sick melancholy inside my head. It would be always awful.

Sigh . . . 

Although I wasn't conscious enough, I had that queer feeling that I was being watched. I sensed some strange presence watching me from afar. I had no idea who. Or what. 

The presence got stronger and stronger than before. My chest was still active and every beat of my heart became fast. This must be fear. I know. This uneasiness didn't waver. In my weak state, I knew to myself that my guard had fallen down to dust.

There were some distant sounds, two or three male voices rose above all the quietness. Heavy footsteps came, thumping loudly towards me.

Kidnappers? Human-traffickers? Or good strangers?

Did I even care? All I ever cared about was my death.

I laid there on the ground, heavy-lidded eyes as I watched a man threw me over his broad shoulder. I couldn't even protest. My voice was terribly pained—dried and parched.

Without words, this man struck me in my neck with his hand, knocking me unconscious.

Ah . . . Behold what my stupidity led me to.

⇜ ⚘ ⇝

I . . . I never know what had happened to me. All I knew that I lifted my heavy eyelids up and slowly adjusted my sights to the dim light coated the room. It was still night, judging the absence of light that receded through the window.

I tried to move, but I groaned in anguish as a rush of pain tore my temples. Opening my mouth, but I only choked, realizing that my throat was hoarse-dry. I swallowed my words up and closed my eyes once again. I was too drowsy from the weariness and my body was aching for no reason.

My body stiffened as I started to hear stepping feet nearby. With my blurry visions, I managed to see two people scurried around me.

"It must be a lucky night that we found a beauty like her . . ."

"She's certainly a quite catch," the second man chuckled. "A rare gem is something you don't encounter every day."

"Those perverted assholes will love her," the first man said in an evil tone. "We should sell her as soon as possible."

"I have already contacted the bidders. Those old fuckers are obsessed with these girls and willing to spend their riches for them!"

Girls . . . So I'm not the only one. And damn . . . I'm being sold.

"It's big money for us," someone spoke. "And I will put a higher price for this girl." Then this man walked over me. "You're in a tough ride, missy. Those little shits are quite abusive."

Like I have a value, bitch.

⇜ ⚘ ⇝

My wrists were bound by the handcuffs. I was still wearing my craggy clothes as my lips were sewn in silence. 

One, two, three . . . Three days and nights of traveling nonstop towards a place that I didn't know.  I was with the seven other ladies on a moving closed van. All of them looked so terrified. Who wouldn't be? But I wasn't. Strange, but I wasn't.

And then, none of us expected, but the van stopped moving. In just a few seconds when they opened the door, and brusque-looking men came to take us—grabbing our arms, dragging us all out of the van.

The ladies started squirming, eyes glowing because of tears made out of toxic wastes. They began to pull us inside an establishment. Before they drew me inside, I studied the place where they took us. It was a town—underground town, maybe—full of women with flawless skin, soft and lush body, and understated beauty. 

Hmm . . . I see.

It was a place for pleasure-seeking—the Red Light District.

Once arriving at a certain room with high security, guards with the high caliber of guns were patrolling us—watching everything we did. There were also make-up artists and stylists who were busy beautifying us.

"For someone who's about to be sold to some kind of fuckers, you're so calm," the make-up artist told me while fixing the curls of my eyelashes.

I smirked and retorted, "For someone who's an accomplice to make someone's life a tragedy, you're too calm, huh?" She was stunned by the words I said to her. "It's actually pathetic to watch how utterly frightful your greed to money is."

Offended by my remark, she slapped me in the face. I only chuckled tauntingly. Loser.

Another stylist came to finish the work on my face. Soon, the time came when I was about to be bid. They made me wore a black masquerade mask, only showing the lower half of my face—lips had a bright, tempting red lipstick. They even made me wore a see-through floral lace bodysuit lingerie with black stockings suspended on the suit. I had scars and all, but they gave me a long leather coat.

I sighed as I was presented to the whole crowd. The place was actually classy. All of the people (mostly men) were wearing suits and ties.

Dirty fuckers.

I kneeled on the carpeted stage, still shackled. The shackle on my neck was specially customized. It had a sensor once tried removing it, a ticking timer would start counting backward and would detonate itself.

It will be a cause of my fucking death!

I could've done it all along, but I realized that it was an ugly way to die. Not pretty. I wouldn't be a beautiful corpse.

Everyone was seemed enthusiastic, having gleeful faces rendered onto.

Then the tenderer proclaimed the starting price for me. He said three million pesos. Someone bid higher than that. And the same thing after it.

I was only watching them offered a particular amount just to buy me. Until a certain person said 18.5 million pesos!

I smiled ruefully. Never in my mind that someone was still willing to auction me for that kind of price! For someone who was useless and worthless as I was!

These bastards appeared to be filthy rich that they didn't know where to spend their money. Bunch of assholes.

So, I was sold for an eighteen point five million pesos! Laughable.

The function hall was filled with distant cheers and applauses. But those gaiety praises were exchanged by screams of horror when the hall shook violently after a deafening sound of a blast!!

Panic burned thoroughly to everyone, scattering around the corners to keep themselves safe from the terror cries of the explosion!

Then gunshots added in the dreadful atmosphere! Soon, I saw armed men dominated the whole area.

Since there were gunshots, the guards of this house sent their retaliation. The whole place became a firing zone. I witnessed how humans would topple down after receiving a shot—mostly in the head. Their brains would splatter, fountains of blood would sprinkle. Little by little, the place became a dead zone. Not just a dead zone, but a sea of corpses. The place was filled with the blood of the sinners. And surely, they would drop down straight to hell. Pathetic souls.

I should flee from here, but somehow, I was fascinated by watching the deaths of these poor humans. 

Well, at least, they were dead. But still, ugly deaths.

Once deciding to leave (because of the unending gunfights, this place became organized chaos), I managed to stand up. Yet I unexpected something.

It was just a fast happening, and I only felt myself lying down on the floor. My mask also went flying! 

An impetuous pain stabbed me in the cheek, leaving a deep graze onto.  And with no time, warm, slimy blood gushed out and trickled from my whole face, down to the floor.

It hurt. And I let out a sharp cry, gasping for air horribly! I was breathing out of exhaustion, making violent moves to get up from the floor.

Much to my dismay, I never knew what to do. Crying for help would be in vain either.

I started running away from the scene, not minding that I was still a prisoner of these chains. Soon, I led myself to a partition made out of a thick sheet of wood enough to protect me.

If this place would serve as the door to the afterlife, then I fucking do not want it!

All I ever wished was to have a beautiful and painless death! Not as hideous and excruciating death as this! I would never accept this. My curtain had not dropped yet!

I needed to escape. I should leave! 

I was gritting my teeth in violently. My left cheek was in deep stinging pain. As well as my left vision was useless. 

Useless! Useless! Fucking useless!

Standing up once again, I yanked my heels away. I ran. I ran fast as I could. My run was not even stable! I was slightly staggering. This was why losers died first.

Do your best! Do your best! Do your very best!

Fucking bullshit!

I didn't know what was best in the first place! But all I knew that the world wouldn't bow to me now.

While running, it seemed like I didn't notice a thick cable and I got tripped on it. I fell down, trying not to hit my left cheek on the ground. I groaned loudly, huffing in process.

I was about to stand up when I saw a pair of combat shoes in front of me. The fear in me started anew. 

Am I about to get killed?

Arching my head up, I wanted to know the face of my killer. To my disappointment, I never saw its face, but a rabbit mask instead.

The person had a built of a man and dominion resided in him. Yet the rabbit mask was something out of the design.

A rabbit mask . . . huh?

I paid attention closely to the position of his eyes. I might never perceive his eyes, but I could feel his intense stare on me as well.

Suddenly, the man took my hand and pulled me up!

I was too caught off guard, and he successfully carried me on his arms. He started running, running to the place I never knew where. The man was sprinting very quick, as though my field of vision became really blurry. He was running at a fast pace, yes, but it appeared that he was well-informed about the safe place where he should go.

Not that long when he stopped and gently put me down on the ground. I looked around, the place was dark and no people astray except us. It was the alleyway and we exited on the fire exit door.

He knelt in front of me as he got something on his hand. A key. 

Extending his arm, he unlocked the shackle with a ticking bomb. 

I was speechless, eyes fixed confusingly on him. 

Then I heard him smirk.

"I was actually disappointed when I didn't get to see you after the night we met," he told me, getting a handkerchief inside his cloak, and wiped my blood-stained cheek. "Soon I realized why. It happened that you're just here, being sold like a little canary."

I frowned, knitting eyebrows closely. In some ways, his voice was familiar.

Wordlessly, I reached out my arm towards him and held his mask. Swiftly, I pulled his rabbit mask.

I got really psyched up upon seeing him. My mouth had a thick uncharacteristic grim lined across my face.

"C . . . Carlyle," I stuttered. "Carlyle Vieira of the Rabbit's Hole."

Once I was fully aware of the happening, all of the confusion that I had when he told me that the Rabbit's Hole was different from anyone, then these were now the answers—served in a golden platter.

Really a circus of freaks.

• — ◽◻◽ — •

hi; happy one k reads 🌻

🔥 h a n d t h e I r e n d