CHAPTER 30: CHAPTER 30

The clattering and clinking sound of plates, cups, and glasses could be heard from everywhere, mixed with the murmuring of people’s chatter. The air was filled with the sweet, sour, and delicious mix of food and fresh beverages.

It had been two days since Tia almost stole Rhea’s soul from her.

It was mid-morning, and the girls were seated by the full-length, door-sized window at the far end of the restaurant, having brunch.

"And he said, ’Oh baby girl, can I have your number?’—stretching his phone towards her. No greeting, not even a ’Hi.’ Nothing. Walking like a wrongly circumcised man," Tia rolling her eyes, leg crossed, fork in hand with a Cuban sandwich on it.

"I bet he cried home after you torsed him away with your eyes." Rhea clamped her tummy laughing. "The audacity alone was what baffled me. Caught cheating in a restaurant and still shamelessly approached another woman after a drink was poured on him." Laughing, tears sat at the corner of her eyes.

"That was hilarious," Tia added smiling.

Tia clicked the bell on their table, signalling for the waiter.

"What are you doing?" Rhea asked, looking straight at Tia’s clearly unfinished plate of sandwiches.

"Ordering," she said with a playful tone.

"Hmm! Are you sure?" She turned towards the approaching waiter, then chuckled. "Ohhhh. So you are stealing glances now."

"Aha, that hurt my feelings," she said, shaking her head as she sliced another sandwich piece. "But he’s not as hot as the guy that did our nails."

A sudden breathing chuckle escaped Rhea, then a giggle.

"That guy was ripped. Was he scaptured or birthed? His face, hair, body, hands—everything looked made." She knitted her brows as her shoulders slumped, then straightened. "Even his smile was divine."

"Tia, could you stop fantasising about someone’s husband? You saw the ring, right?" Rhea asked with a pointed brow.

"I’m fantasising that my own man will be more handsome than that," she corrected.

"You called me, Miss," the waiter said, getting to their table.

Tia glanced up at him with a warm smile, holding his gaze. "I need a strong take-home Huevos Rancheros," she glanced at his arms, "and a Chilaquiles."

"And a Bloody Mary," Rhea added.

"Okay, coming right up." He walked away.

"But I’m eating Chilaquiles," Rhea pointed out, leaning on her arm resting on the table.

"Oh no, I forgot." She looked at Rhea’s plate, then at the waiter.

"Obviously. If you didn’t forget, who will?"

As they finished their brunch, Tia and Rhea stepped into the mid-crowded street, the almost heavy sun dawning on them, but the wind was comforting to the skin.

As they moved within the crowds, heading for a boutique three blocks from the restaurant, they exchanged conversations.

A gorgeous red dress caught Rhea’s attention from across the street.

"Tia, look at that dress," she said, pointing at it. "What do you think? Isn’t it gorgeous?" she whispered.

But Tia wasn’t replying. Everything was silent as her voice echoed strangely.

The world shimmered. Then she blinked.

And suddenly... she was alone. As she turned to Tia, she found herself in an alley. She wasn’t aware of how she got there.

It was damp, potholes everywhere. She looked to her right, then to her left—there was nothing. Not a single person, nor a sound. It was eerily quiet and slightly dark.

"What is going on? Wasn’t I in the street just now?" She scanned her surroundings. There was a leaking canopy at a far distance, and a wind catcher hung in the shade that seemed like a stall.

"What is she doing here?" a weak, sickly voice said.

"Who is there?" Rhea instantly turned towards the direction of the voice.

But nothing came back.

Then another one spoke, this time from the opposite direction she was facing, but closer to her ears—as if standing inches away.

Rhea’s heart skipped a beat turning swiftly, her hand clamping her ear, her head suddenly ringing because of the voice. But nothing was there.

Then all at once, different voices echoed in the alley, whispering incoherently and extremely loudly.

Rhea immediately crouched down, her hands over her ears, her eyes shut tight.

"Stop talking," she demanded.

But it didn’t stop. With each second, it grew closer, and closer, and louder.

"Die. Die. Die. Die." The voices started shouting at her.

A high frequency was sliced across the small space, causing her eardrums to rupture. Blood trailed from them.

Rhea stood up, bolting forward towards the canopy, tears trailing down her cheeks.

As she ran, she spotted a person. She increased her pace, joy sprouting in her chest, a small relief almost washing over her.

The further she ran, the closer the person’s figure got.

"Excuse me," Rhea said, stretching her arms out towards the person.

Then she turned.

Rhea’s eyes widened in terror. Her heart almost stopped; her breath died in her chest, not daring to breathe.

Half of the person’s face was rotten, the skin sagging, the eye falling out of its socket.

Her fingers were dark and long. She was dressed in a dirty white gown that had turned grey.

Her hair was greyish white, her hands were wrinkled, her eyes sharp as knives—and they were staring deep into her soul.

"Why would you be here?" the old lady said it like a question, but it wasn’t. "A thing like you should never be in here with the dead"

Her grip tightened on Rhea’s wrist, her fingers digging into her flesh.

"You shouldn’t have come here!"

Rhea struggled to free herself, but her grip was tight. She wouldn’t budge.

"Let me go!" Rhea screamed, almost knocking her over.

Rhea darted through the alley, frantically looking behind her, then her legs gave out on the ground of the street as she bumped into a man.

But it felt as though she was the one who was bumped into.

The street was bustling again. People’s chatter and footsteps could be heard again.

The street that had vanished was now before her. A cold dread and relief washed through Rhea, giving her a comfort she never knew she would find in noise.

"Are you okay?" A man asked, helping her up.

She said nothing, her cold, shaky grip firmly on his arms. Her eyes were not leaving her shoulder.

"Miss, are you okay?" he asked again.

She wasn’t. She was panicking. Her breaths were coming out in hurried gasps, and her complexion was getting paler.

The spot the woman had held her—that was blood red before—was gone.

"Rhea!"

Tia’s voice reached her ears from a distance.

Rhea frantically searched for that comforting, familiar voice, her body shaking violently for comfort from whatever it was she had just gone through.

"When I looked behind, you weren’t there. So I came back looking for you, and you were just standing here, frozen. Not moving, not blinking, just staring into space and shaking. What happened? Why are you on the floor?" Tia froze in her stance, drinking in Rhea’s terrified expression.

Tia immediately brought out her phone and dialled the chauffeur.

"Home." That was the single word that came out of her mouth.

While they were in the car, Tia said nothing. Asked nothing. She simply held Rhea in a tight hug.

She could tell something was wrong.

Her body shivered in Tia’s arms, her eyes not blinking, motionless and wide.

As the car engine hissed, Rhea immediately bolted out of the car, making her way to the bedroom and burying herself under the duvet.

W... What was that? What were those things? Why do I have to die? I did nothing wrong.

Her face became gradually wet as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. She wrapped her hands around the now stinging, throbbing wrist as she begged her mind not to remember, not to think about it.

She couldn’t tell herself it wasn’t real, that it was all in her head, because there was evidence. She saw and heard everything that happened in that strange space.

Her head was still ringing, her body still shaking. She could still taste the blood in her mouth from when her eardrums burst.

"Rhea! Rhea! Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?" Tia asked from outside the room, twisting the handle of the door repeatedly.

"C’mon, talk to me, please," Tia pressed on. "What happened back there? Why were you looking like that?" she persisted.

The room was dead silent—to the extent you could hear the rustling of curtains and the sound of the leaves and crickets from outside.

"Tia, did something happen?" Tia’s mother asked as she made her way towards the closed door.

"I don’t know!" Tia’s voice hitched, brows furrowed. "She was shaking and looked terrified... I... I..." Her voice broke.

"We were planning one second, and the next... she... she..." A heavy sigh left her lips as she sank to her knees, her hands over her face, sobbing.

"Shhhhhh." Mrs. Gunther softly lifted her.

"But I’ve never seen her like that before," Tia added, tilting her head to the side.

"Give her time. She’ll come out." Her mother assured, glancing at the door, concern etched on her face.