Chapter 2: Wrong Basement

< Shirley > I was drowning in the world of peaceful slumber where I was winning an award until a sudden wake-up call made me jolt up. "Wake up!" I placed a hand on my chest, right over my heart, and glared at the person on my right. He almost gave me brain damage. "About time you woke up, Snorlax." Adrian sighed. "Do you have any idea you sleep like a corpse?" "You jerk!" I yelled out and yanked a pillow in his direction angrily which he easily dodged. "Hit a nerve?" He arched an eyebrow before bending down to pick the pillow. "I was having a sweet dream," I clamored, cupping my cheeks, reminiscing the images from the dream that I remembered. "What was it about, huh?" he asked. "I forgot," I lied. "I bet my wallet either your dream was about winning an award or getting married to your crush," Adrian sneered. I could feel my cheeks flushing. Actually, the dream was about both. I got married to my all-time crush, then I became a world-famous car racer. Dreams don't really make sense, I know. Suddenly a pillow hit my face, and I let out, "Ouch!" "Bingo! Looks like I hit the jackpot." He bumped his fist in the air with a smug look plastered on his face. "Since when were you a dream teller?" I snickered, threading my fingers through my messy brown locks. "Since the day you were born." He shrugged his shoulders, and I narrowed my eyes at him. "Who needs to be a dream teller to guess your predictable dreams? I literally saw you trying to kiss a pillow, muttering the wedding vows. However, the part where your face got all greedy when the award was about to be handed-" his storytelling came to an abrupt stop as this time I managed to hit him square in the face with a pillow. "Shut up, and get lost, Ady." "Psst, whatever. I don't have any time to waste on trashy people, anyway." Adrian rolled his eyes and walked out of my bedroom. Cursing him under my breath, I glanced at my worst enemy, the alarm clock. It was a quarter seven. "Flipping hell!" I was late. I quickly jumped off my bed and dashed into the bathroom to take a quick shower. For a brief moment, my eyes hovered over the jacuzzi pitifully. I didn't have the time to relax in the tub. A ten-minute shower would have to work for today. I was sacrificing my precious sleep for Dylan Lewiston. He would better appreciate my efforts. My beloved sleep, I won't let your sacrifice go to vain. After taking a quick bath, which only consisted of me scrubbing the body wash on myself and applying shampoo in my hair at a lightning speed, I slipped into a white crop top and mid-thigh length Hawaiian skirt, and a black jacket to go along. I put on my knee-length socks as I hadn't shaved my legs for a while. I untangle the knots in my long, dark brown hair, letting them fall over over my shoulder. Putting on nude lipstick, I was good to go. "Shit, he must have reached the office already," I muttered under my breath and scampered downstairs to have my breakfast. "Good morning, princess," Mom and Dad greeted, both sitting on their respective chairs at the dining table. "Good morning." I took a seat and grabbed a toast. "Where is your precious Satan?" "Adrian left early. He had some work to do," Dad answered, a hidden bitterness in his voice. Although it seemed suspicious for him to leave that early when his office started at nine o'clock, I let it slide and nodded my head. After finishing my breakfast, I went to Dylan's office. Straightening my clothes, I waltz in confidently as if the CEO was my husband. A few employees eyed me, probably recognizing me from my previous visits, and snickered, awaiting the havoc I was about to wreck. "Not again," groaned Nina Steward, the receptionist, and banged her head on the counter hopelessly. "A very good morning, Nina, my precious gem." I took off my shades and winked at her, showing off my wide grin. "You're not supposed to be here until evening. What do you want right now?" Nina crossed her arms, a disinterested look etched on her face. "A little change is always good." She rolled her eyes at my blunt response. "Let's get this straight, Nina." I rested my elbows on the counter, shifting into a much serious tone. "If you don't let me meet him today, then I won't let you register any of the attendances hereon." Her fearful eyes shifted to the line that was starting to form behind me. The most hustling part of the day for a receptionist was the morning where she had to register the employees, so she had no other option than to deal with me quickly. "Please try to understand. Sir doesn't want to have anything to do with you," she almost pleaded. Internally, she probably wanted to yank out her hair out of frustration. "I don't care if he wants or not. To me, the only thing that matters is what I want, and I want him to train me. Therefore, do both of us a favor and call him, honey." I tapped my perfectly manicured fingers on the marble counter. Nina frowned and explained, "He is in a foul mood today. He's going to fire me and sue you if we bother him." "How did you understand he's in a bad mood? According to rumors, he doesn't show that much emotion." I wrinkled an eyebrow at her. Her expression told me she wanted to drown me in the lava. Nonetheless, she feigned a sigh and leaned closer, whispering, "That's certainly true. But any fool could guess his awful mood if they saw him fire five employees in the last twenty minutes." "That's so cruel," I muttered, feeling sympathetic for all the employees that lost their jobs only due to their boss' bad mood. "So please don't make me lose my job and leave." She clasped her hands together and begged me, but I wasn't going to listen to any pleads that day. "Sorry, I'm not going anywhere unless you book an appointment of mine with him." "Fine then." She sighed in defeat and placed her hand on the intercom. For a second, I doubted if that was actually Nina or there was an imposter in her place but didn't question her anymore as she started chanting prayers in her mind. My eyes wandered around while Nina was talking to Dylan over the phone, observing the beautifully designed entryway. I would really feel bad for Nina if she lost her job for me, so I really hoped she survived. If she didn't — uh, she had my respect. She fought well. I was thinking of alternative ways to meet up with Dylan when Nina exclaimed, almost too excitedly, "Sir agreed to meet you!" It took me a few seconds to process that information. After a month of struggles and chasing, Dylan finally agreed to see me. "Yes!" I squealed and leaned over the counter, pulling Nina in a bear hug in excitement. "Oh God, leave me. My spinal cord is about to snap." Nina squirmed under my grasp, so I left her and started jumping up and down as if a chimpanzee possessed me. Once I stopped dancing crazily, I straightened up and was about to march in the direction of the elevator when Nina informed me, "Not so fast. The appointment is at 10 o'clock." I pouted, not wanting to wait any longer, but accepted nonetheless. I waited for one month, waiting two more hours was nothing for me. "You can wait there." Nina gestured at the waiting area. I thanked her sincerely before settling in that room. I scrolled through Instagram feed, looking through memes to pass time until I got bored out of my damn mind and went for a walk in the parking lot. As I was casually strolling around, I was subconsciously playing with the ring in my hand, which was a present from my mom. But how could I forget that nothing went casually for me? I stared into the darkness with wide eyes as the ring went rolling down the underground basement. I gaped, dumbfounded. First of all, why the fuck was there a basement in a basement? Secondly, how could my ring just slip off like that? Third, why was I always the unlucky one? I started taking as small steps as possible towards the underground floor. I was one creepy sound away from screaming my lungs out for help. A girl walking to a dark alleyway has always been a no-no, and a girl walking in a dark underground basement was like walking in a coffin. Well, I was doing that and shivering to my bones. Not to mention the fact that I had phasmophobia. What if there's a ghost? Worst case scenario—a murderer who has hidden many corpses there. What if there was a mafia leader, committing a murder? What if there was a couple making out? With endless 'what ifs' came endless fears. The more I stepped into the dark side, it felt as though the darkness was going to consume me, pull my legs into the abyss. I turned on the flashlight of my cell phone. No matter how much I consoled myself, the fear was still there. To be honest, I was waiting for a ghost to pop out and jump-scare me with the two sides of mine conflicting with each other. There was nothing like that. Monsters, ghosts, and demons don't exist. It's all humans who were the real monsters—that was what my brave side said, which feared nothing. God, please protect me. I swear I'll visit the church every Sunday. Don't let there be any ghosts or corpses. Don't let me get killed. I don't want to die young—and this was what my wussy side mumbled, which feared everything. I started chanting prayers until I reached a stable ground, flashing around the light, making sure there was nothing creepy lurking in the background. I released a deep sigh when I noticed a few expensive cars parked. My eyes twinkled at the latest modeled cars. At that moment, I forgot all about my ring and fears and started inspecting the cars from outside. "Man, I want to ride this baby." I gushed over the black Lamborghini Veneno. But my gushing didn't last long as a bloodcurdling scream caught my attention. "What was that scream?" I took a step back, preparing myself for a dash. I heard a few more cracking noises. I was about to turn on my heels to make a run for it, but my heels seemed to have some other idea—it decided to break. I tumbled on a metallic door, somehow pushing it open and dropping inside. In front of me laid a long, narrow corridor with bloodstains on the ceramic walls, whipping sounds filling the silence. My first instinct was to go back in the direction I came from, but my phone had slipped out of my grasp. As I tried to reach for it, the door closed automatically. My heart literally was caught in my throat by that point. I was freaking out—would also be a huge understatement. I had no words to describe what I was feeling. I managed to stand up on my trembling feet and wiped the bids of sweats that had formed on my forehead, brushing the strands of hair from the face. "You messed up with the wrong gang." I heard a deep voice say from the end of the hallway. I cleared my dry throat, taking deep breaths, before walking in that light dimmed direction. Reaching an open space, I hid behind the wall, peeking at the scenario. There were few men in white button-ups and formal black pants, each of them carrying different types of guns. Another man in the same outfit was tied up to a chair with chains, body full of cuts and wounds, shallow pants escaping his mouth. And the last person I expected to see there was standing in front of the injured person with a blank expression, a revolver pointed in his direction. I couldn't believe my eyes. "Please forgive me, boss," those were the last words that came out of that wounded guy before he was shot in the head by his boss, who was none other than Dylan Lewiston. I pressed my palm over my mouth to stop myself from letting out a gasp and squeezed my eyes shut to not witness the horrifying scenario. "Bury the body," said Dylan. I opened my eyes once again to see him still standing in his place, an irritated look on his face. "Shit, I got blood on my shirt," he mumbled, looking down at the little red specks on his white shirt. He just killed a freaking person, and all he cares about was his shirt? Is this guy for real? Subconsciously, I was starting to back away which resulted in me bumping into someone behind my back, who had just entered. I stumbled forward. I was facing the bloody floor as all the eyes were darting in my direction. A pin-drop silence. Only my heart thumping crazily. Terrified. Somehow, I picked myself up from the ground and fearfully gazed in front of me to a pair of beautiful, unemotional grey eyes staring at me. What was it in his expression? Was it a shock? Anger? Scared? I couldn't tell. His expression was blank. Eyes are the windows to a soul. But his eyes, they conveyed nothing. Just a pair of grey pupils looking at me. Slapping myself, I wiped my clammy hands on my skirt and gulped down the lump in my throat. Now wasn't the time to panic and screw it up. I had to act strong. I was confused about whether I was supposed to be screaming for help or play dead. "What do you want here?" came his deep voice. I always thought his voice was sexy during the interviews, but right then it seemed like the calling of dooms. I wanted to reply, but my brain was in no state to form understandable words. All I could think was, I might get killed by this man today.