23 The Bed or The Grave (2/2)

As he says those words, I feel the cold breeze of autumn entering through the double doors, sweeping away my frizzy hair through the winds. Some of the autumn leaves lands on my shoulder. However, as I take the leaf of my shoulder, I notice that it is green, green like new spring. And then, I realize. ”No!” I say to him firmly. ”You cannot convince me, sir. If you make me choose between the bed or the grave, I will have to choose the grave? What kind of bed are you even talking about? A bed of life or a bed of death? A bed of truth or a bed of lies? I choose to not sleep in either of those. I would rather take myself to the grave than live a single second of not doing anything. Good day!”

I stand on my feet and walk in strides away from him. Yes, I may not be able to convince him of the slightest, but I did take something out of this. In these times where I seem to fail, I will rise. This is why the Lord led me to the church. He wanted me to stand my ground against those who urge me to step down. I choose the grave over a bed of lies. No longer will I listen to that man. I will find another way to get him to speak. If not, I will find another way to bring justice.

Suddenly, as I step out of the church, I feel something crawl up my spine. I hear something, the sound that of a rifle being loaded with a bullet. I do not know who he is. I do not know where he points the rifle, but I know better than to fight. I simply raise my arms, raise my arms in an act that of a surrender. Though I may not know the man, I know who his employer is.

”Have you come to kill me?” I ask the man behind me.

I dare not turn back. It was as if I am paralyzed into nothingness as he points his rifle towards my back. ”No, miss. I did tell you that we will come back for you, and we did.”

All of a sudden, ten more men spring out of nowhere as they surround me in circle once more with their military grade rifles. Eleven. There's eleven of them. Where's the twelfth one?

”What do you need?” I ask. I have to buy some time. What are they doing? Where is the twelfth one? With one of them missing, surely, they have a complete plan. It's not just ”threat the woman to be shot and expect silence” act.

”Nothing, miss,” he says. ”Just your act of surrender. Vow to never continue your investigation lest you wish to meet Your Maker.”

Once again, they begin loading their rifles. The last time this happened, I was just praying the five decades of the rosary, and then, Attorney Guevarra used his elusive ways to threaten the men into laying down their arms. I don't think I can summon another Attorney Guevarra if I pray another five decades.

But maybe… Just maybe… He will help me.

”It is the same answer, boys,” I say firmly. ”I will never surrender. You can tell Ysabel that I will fight, just like this!”

And suddenly, I kick my leg backwards towards the genitals of my perpetrator. With that, he almost falls to his knees as he feels the immerse pain similar to that of childbirth. Instinctively, he holds on to his genitals as he prays for the pain to subside, allowing him to let go of his weapon. With a smile on my face, I pick up the rifle on the floor and begin loading it.

Suddenly, I begin shooting at random places. I do not even know how to fire a gun. As I shoot, they also shoot at my direction but constantly miss. All ten of them are circled right in front of me. Behind me is a church with a man praying inside. This might be the chance.

”Professor Diwa! Help me! They are going to kill me!”

As I keep firing my gun against them, I keep shouting and shouting for help.

”Professor Diwa, I beg of you, help me!”

As I was about to let out another shout, a hand goes across my mouth, thus forcing me into silence. ”I told you, miss. We will come back for you.” Suddenly, he wraps his other arm on my waist and carries me away like a child. ”Boys, let's go!”

All of a sudden, the ten men take to their sides. Wait, what is going on? Slowly, a van drives in front of the asphalt path of the church. The man inside rolls down the window and automatically opens the sliding door of this black van. So, this is their plan. The twelfth man in the mafia is the getaway driver. Still, I fight my way through. I try and try to remove his grip off my mouth. I keep kicking and wriggling my way to freedom. As I was able to be free of his grip on my mouth, I shout from the top of my lungs the loudest scream I could give.

”Professor Diwa, help me!”

And suddenly… he came.

He steps out of the double doors of the church with his same placid ways. Even the mafia are stunned into silence. It was as if time had stopped when he went out of the church. Hope is alight in my eyes as I see him look at me with much pity and desire to save me. All he needs to do is call the police, and let the mafia suffer. Ysabel will go down as these men go down.

And suddenly, he did not.

All he does is turn a blind eye and walk away. As the men realize that he will not do anything, the man carries me into the van. Still, I fight. I keep wriggling and kicking, hoping the he would just drop me. I know it will be a futile fight, but I will be free.

”No, please, help me!” I scream once more.

But, still. He walks away towards the opposite direction heading for the city center. As I see him walk away, I could feel all my strength draining away. Is my fate to be like Mateo and his parents? Dear, god! No!

”Professor Diwa, please!”

He does not even turn back. As I realize that he will not help, all I could do is let out sobs of anguish.

”Please! Please!”

It was no use. And either way, it's too late. The man throws me inside the van as he keeps his grip on my waist. As he shuts the door of the van, he covers my nose with a handkerchief. With that unusual scent of a chemical, it dawns on me slowly that this is not just a perfume. Chloroform.

Chloroform takes a while to work, though. With my strength all gone, I could only let this go on. I do my best to look around and figure out who these persons might be. I look into my perpetrator's hand and see a reddish birthmark on his hand. And in my mind, I pray I'll remember that detail.

As they drive me away to some place unknown, I think. Why? I put all my hopes to him, yet why? Why did he not help me? Why did he let me be taken away by my perpetrators? He says he is not on her side, and yet, by letting this happen, he did the opposite.

All I can feel is nothingness at this time. He had forsaken me. I put all my love for him, and yet he had forsaken me. As I drift away to sleep, all I could feel is a single tear drop out of my closing eyes.