Her Flaws

Chapter 22

I have faced the worst things in life. I didn't really want to go far worse than worst. My vitals got irregular and unusual. I got so scared. But instead of panicking, I started thinking this time. I tried to guess if that man was a cop. But as I already explained, more he seemed like a thug. I kept a watch over him from the corner of my eye. He called someone. I could see him now on the opposite side of the road, but he was still looking at me strangely. I took out a tissue and with a pen, I wrote a note:
“Just as you see this, take the car as fast as you can, and go to your business work wherever it is.”
And pinned it on the steering wheel. I didn't text him because as soon as he saw the text, he could come out of the store and become a part of all that mess.
The man seemed more alarmed now. I locked all the car doors and I slowly got out of the car, trying to not give a hint of escape and making a sudden trick, I dashed. I ran as fast as I could. And that man followed me. He was a filthy fat swine who was running at his good speed but not as fast as I was. I took the narrow streets and roads eventually, instead of running on a straight road and dragging attention of hundred people. I confused that man too. I could tell by his run only that he was not a cop or detective. I took the right turn and it was a marketplace with crowded narrow streets. As a ran alongside the road, I heard the police sirens, going in the opposite direction. That man must had told the police that Aceso Smith was spotted near a departmental store in Pasig, and the police was definitely going to the departmental store first. I was now panting and thirsty and tired and too much afraid. In front of me, there was a white truck, container like truck that supplies bread and butter to the small stores. It was open, and one man in very dirty clothes, took out a carton of something and went inside a little shop. I walked cautiously forward. The fat ugly man, that thug, who reported me was no more after me. He must have stopped and been to tell the police, because he knew he couldn't chase me. Anyway, I looked around, and got inside the truck and hid behind containers without drawing attention of public and without giving a sign in the side mirrors to the driver who was actually listening to the radio with his head down on the steering wheel. I was wildly breathing and panting. My mouth was all dry and my throat was sore. Sweat dripped off my forehead every other second. In a minute or two, the man came out of the shop empty handed and closed the opening of the truck and probably sat on the passenger seat with driver. The moment he closed it, I was terribly provoked to ask him to let it stay open, but I couldn't. He would have dragged me out of the container. What if I died of suffocation?
At first I was panicking but as soon as I calmed myself, I felt a filthy smell. A musty and damp smell, the smell of a moist cloth that had never been into sunlight and mixed with fungal bread and ruined butter or dripped rotten milk. That almost made impossible for me to breath. It was worse than the smell of hydrogen sulfide, almost unbearable and insufferable.
I had never been to a more inferior situation. Evading the police isn't a joke, you know. I never realized that I was running for nothing. It was just my confusion and not my crime that made me run. I always comforted myself saying that I did nothing, I committed no crime, but deep down, somewhere in my heart, I had caught this guilt that I was the one who killed Sybil. One can evade the police, but can not run from one's own guilt. You can not dodge your confusions until you make yourself realise. It's always you who makes up problems for you. Or may be, it's just fate, and you become an agent, a reason. But why does fate leaves us to blame ourselves? Why doesn't it allow us to understand reality? In order to clear confusions, instead of running from yourself, get closer to your own soul. Investigate your own heart and soul. Investigate and conclude. Improve where you can and leave what can not be refined. Console yourself and find beauty in your flaws. Revamp yourself. Reincarnate from your ashes. Be a phoenix and not a cockerel.
I kept a watch from the peekhole inside the container I was stuck in. I had almost forgotten that I had a phone in my pocket, when the vibration startled me. “Oh! Oh my! Goodness!” in a sigh of relief, I said to myself. Len had texted me, “Where are you? Are you fine? Boss asked me to text you.”
I replied her and told her the scene of me being in an unknown truck and getting stuck in it and asked her to tell this to Sheridan.
“Turn the location on and send me your live location if possible. He will track you down.” she replied.
“If I feel like getting caught, I will throw the phone away.” I texted.
“What are the cartons in the truck? The names of companies? She asked.
“Fine Grain bread, J's Dairy, Godwin's.” I told her about having a brief look at the cartons around me with my phone's flashlight.
The vehicle never seemed to stop anywhere. It was a long journey. Or may be it wasn't so long, but time gets slower for you in a situation like that. I had spent just an hour in that hell when it stopped. I could hear sound of men talking. Then someone came near and opened the lid type opening of container. I tried my best to not be seen. I held my breath and my heart was beating faster than ever, that if it was all silent, my heartbeat could easily be heard by anyone. Being chased by the police was better than this, being in unknown men's unknown location. The place didn't seem very nice, and what else could I expect. I was in Quezon City. I had checked my location a few minutes before. That man who opened the gate was going to unload the truck. And that made my heart pound like I had seen my death. He took out one carton. Then second. Then third...