Chapter 2: Behind...

Profile

Evie M. Almilla

Grade 12 STEM

Orphan no parents since 12 years old.

Physical:

Height: 5 ft 4 in

Hair length: Chin level

Eyes: Hazel colored eyes

Weight: 55 kg

Skinny fair skin.

She supports herself by working as a waitress and delivery woman. Essentially, the owner of the noodle house is her guardian.

...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...

At the noodle house;

"Boss?" I was shouting trying find Mr. Q

Then suddenly someone got caught in my peripheral vision, the boy his still here.

I walk slowly towards the boy. "Hi, his dead" - I whispered to him, and then I observed first hand any changes in his expression, it becomes

I can't live anymore,

To

there is still hope.

Those damaged cheeks and beated bodies of this small young child. I can't imagine living a life like that.

And then I heard some noise in the kitchen, and then "Hey, Eve, how was the delivery?" - he questioned me concernfully.

I nodded and smirked.

...****************...

The Noodle Shop

Hidden in plain sight. The noodle business serves as a hideout for an organization known for serial killings.

Organizational Leader: Mr. Q is the noodle shop's chef and the organization's boss. Tall man 6.4 feet tall with a muscular frame and a low voice

Employees:

Jared G.- Waiter

Evie A.- Waitress and deliverywoman

Low profile noodle shop with secret agendas and visions

...****************...

"Look your new brother, he is a Leandro but he is an orphan now, just like you."- he added, as if he was thinking about me before making a decision.

"Welcome to the noodle shop; my name is Evie and I believe I am your older sister," I added without looking at him.

"I'll go time out now." I said as I ran away from the scene.

"I'll go home now, boss" -I added as I walked out the door and drove off.

At home

" I am home" I whispered as if I have someone that is waiting for me.

Remembering the kill one last time I look at the ceiling of this run-down apartment that I only rented this month. I was introduced in this line of work when I witnessed the death of my parents at my age of 12 years old only.

I didn't look for them or grieve when they passed away. Even why the hot blood dripping from their body seemed so lovely is a mystery to me.

Flashback:

Around five or six o'clock, I believe, I walked back from school with my pals. It's a happy day since it's the last day of my primary school adventure, where the brilliant and the gloomy reside.

At the house: I knocked on the door multiple times since I couldn't figure out why my mom was taking so long to respond. "Mommm?" I yelled a little. The room merely echoed.

Since they might not be home yet, I used my extra keys to enter the house. However, I was shocked when a chilly, blissful air touched my chicks and a sharp, rusty metal-like fragrance came from the open door. I wasn't sure what to anticipate from the atmosphere and scent at first, but I kept walking straight to the living room. I noticed a tall guy, perhaps six feet tall, without a pinky, wearing pants and a black leathery-textured jacket.

I'm having trouble understanding the scenario. I took a deep breath and let it out to help me relax. However, I believe it only makes matters worse. The odd man slowly spins around to face me. He had murderous eyes.

In fear, I whispered, "W-who a-are you?" He is holding something in his hands as he faces me directly.

I tried to concentrate and look at what he was carrying. Is that a hand? It resembles my mother and has a purple bracelet and a flower that resembles a bell.

In an attempt to alarm our neighbors, I yelled, "No!!" I had no idea what had happened; it seemed like my energy was being drained from me. I seemed oblivious to the fact that my father was laying in the corner and that the floor was now covered with blood.

I woke up in the hospital the other day. I am so shocked that I am unable to speak or even recognize the face of the man who kills my family.

...----------------...

I let out a gasp like if I'm sprinting to get air. Yes, I slept through the night without realizing it. And that same old dream. I sighed.

Another day means another chance to live.

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