01

MAVERICK DEVIAN.

TONIGHT, I have to find some place to stay and hide, but at this point I don't think a patron saint of murderers would hear my plea to help a fugitive like me.

I lost track of time since I started walking down through the bushes of Rueme Town.

It's too dark and my feet were bruised so badly from running-walking for a couple of hours now. The gods above were definitely mad at me, to the extent that they bursted out in tears as though there will be no tomorrow.

I didn't mind the cold dripping rain that kept on soaking me. It's my sweater that helped me a lot to conceal the freezing wind against my skin.

It must be a dumb mistake for me, escaping that hell with this weather condition.

I should have stayed there for one night, and then fled the next day, but what's done is done.

I can't go back there and tell the cops, "Hey, preggies! I'm sorry for causing inconvenience to your jobs. I just took a walk outside because I kinda feel like being soaked with the rain tonight. Can I come into my cell?" Then I'd request them to lend me some warm clothes.

I will never say those random shit and do some no brainer transition.

Life really fucking happens.

Morning earlier, I got arrested by those cops, seemingly on their ninth-month-pregnancy while I was shaving my beard, facing the mirror—screw that guy who handcuffed me as if I was able to escape them.

There's me -- standing inside my bathroom with no windows. Just a dirty white sink, some little space to bathe and a small toilet bowl.

Then, they're—blocking my doorway, pointing their guns straight through my face as I gave them the look; "Seriously? It's goddamn seven on Monday morning!"

They took me out of my house -- I, not knowing what's going on, then brought me to the only police station we have in town.

They kept on telling me that I murdered a young girl, which I barely remember doing.

As I recall, what I did last night was go for my graveyard shift then go back to my flat then sleep.

I don't know with these unhealthy cops? I got accused of something I didn't know. . . for something I'm certain I didn't do.

Didn't I?

After they interrogated me for almost half an hour, for giving me vague questions that I couldn't answer, they showed me a photo of a crime scene.

It is a beige wall—painted with bloody phrases.

Those were blood, I suppose.

The gruesome phrase said, "For heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more."

The cops were persistent in accusing me that that was my penmanship, and I truly believed it wasn't and never will be mine.

I swear to their pretentious wombs, I didn't scrawl on someone's wall last night, and felt like giving some free calligraphy with the use of streaming hot blood.

I swear.

Even if a day came when they'd give birth through their dick's urethra.

Unfortunately, the next thing they gave me, wanted me to call a therapissed.

It was the photo of my presumed victim.

What I saw was a broken limb, its pair was nowhere to be found according to one of them. It is terribly bruised, as if it underwent hazing. Then the other photo was the chopped head of a lifeless young girl.

Upon their investigation, they only found her two body parts and my fingerprints were seen and got positive from their shitty tests.

The limb was found under the drainage, near the house of my presumed victim.

Her head was found underneath her bed, earlier before they barged into my house.

The parents weren't ready to face me, but they wanted my imprisonment to be a life sentence and I should pay for the crime that, at least I believed, I never did for my twenty-four years of existence.

I don't even know the dismembered girl!

I've never seen her in this town, not even once, but based on her face that they showed me several hours ago. She's perhaps in her teenage years.

Her parents too.

I never met and knew them until I got arrested today, but the police told me that they have been residing in Rueme Town since their child was born.

Okay fine, I'll buy that made up life story.

At that moment, I thought I was just being pranked or something.

Although, I don't have friends to come up with such a scheme, but next week will be my birthday and I just thought that my parents might be pulling off some grand surprise.

That's what I thought, and I thought it wrongly, of course.

I stopped taking a step down the bushes when I smelled something. A smell of fried tocino? In the midst of dark bushes?

I tried to sniff around, and peep my eyes to clearly visualise the surroundings.

Am I hallucinating or there's really a small house down there?

Perhaps, I already catched a fever due to my wet clothes. I haven't had a meal since earlier and now I felt my growling mad stomach.

I shook my head. "Don't fall on that bait, Mave!" I groaned as I hit my face, "Shit your face! I'm never gonna go there! It must be the witches from Hansel and Gretel trying to tame me!"

I turned my body and decided to walk onto the opposite way, but screw those witches!

Great! I think I broke my ankle, goddamn shit!

As I accidentally lost my balance, I rolled down the bushes -- this is worse than getting imprisoned.

A moment of free cuddle service with some thorns, insects and I can't tell what the fuck I landed and fell on!

I tried to gather some strength to stand from my feet. Miraculously, I was able to walk still.

Yeah, those witches really want my tits? Fine, bwitches! Lemme taste the fried tocino before you could make bread out of my bones!

"Shit, I think my brain fell out of my skull!" I closed my eyes hard.

I had a world-war-shocking migraine attack. I pinned my right hand against the wooden wall near me and leaned my full strength to it, to keep myself from standing.

Then suddenly I realised one thing.

I reached someone's house to hide and stay for tonight.

I chuckled with that clever thought.

Slowly, I started walking again and I searched for the main door of the house. I can't tell if it's fully made up of concrete materials due to lack of light in the area.

Why don't they put a light bulb outside their house? It's quite dangerous here. Bad guys might think to lurk around and. . . never mind.

Why would I care about the residents of this house?

All I have to do is talk with the people inside to request for free accommodation for just several hours. Get some warm clothes and food to eat before I die due to fever and skipping meals.

After that, I will leave them and they'll never have to see me again.

I just hope they don't have television or radio.

As soon as I reached the doorstep, I scanned the place and it's pretty neat, huh?

I cleared my throat and lifted my left fist to begin knocking on the wooden door.

What if it's really the bwitches inside?

I shook my head to disrupt my stupid thoughts. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, thrice.

An ear-wrecking silence followed.

Only the pouring rain acknowledged the knock I just did.

I tried to knock again, but this time, much louder.

You wouldn't open this door or Imma kick off this crap?

I already stepped back to get ready to barge in, but the door whimpered with its rusty hinge when an arm-length gap was made from its jamb.

My heart took a sudden leap. . . then it began pounding slowly, but hard.

I think my fever got better after seeing those gentle eyes.

It's been two years, and I have never heard about her since we ended the relationship we were just about to begin but ended up faster than how we fell.

The patron saint of murderers is in favour of me, huh?

Few seconds of staring at her passed. The woman in front of me tried to speak but her tongue seemed to be malfunctioning at this moment.

She must be aware of the bad news about her ex-boyfriend, and it definitely made her speechless for seeing me right now.

Holding my breath, slowly I said, "For heaven's sake stop me. . . before I kill more."