Unintentionally Yours 1 Chapter 1: Life Is Not Always What We Expect To Be.

My grip tightened at the handle of my suitcase when I saw a familiar limousine approaching. Its texture shines brightly when hit by the rays of the afternoon sun. I repeatedly tapped my right foot into the paved floor of the airport.

For all the years I spent out of this h.e.l.l – this country, I felt so free. I did what I wanted to do. But my allotted time was finished. I had to go back here and face the end of the deal.

The limousine stopped right in front me. The car was causing many heads to turn. I filled my lungs with polluted air as I watched the familiar face of an old man getting out of the car. The wrinkles beside and under his eyes were already visible as he smiled gracefully to me.

"Miss Kara! Welcome back to the Philippines," Mang Domeng said in a hard accent. His voice was tainted by his age. He took the suitcase and placed it inside the car.

I smiled at his greeting. Mang Domeng was my driver since I was in preschool. Back then, when I chose not to attend cla.s.ses because I find them too boring, we would go to a play station at my favorite mall. We will stay there all day and go back home when the cla.s.ses were also finished. Dad thought I am attending cla.s.ses every day and that remained our little secret during my younger years.

He opened the door for me. I entered and placed myself comfortably in the s.p.a.cious car.

"How's life here, Mang Domeng?" I asked as he started to drive.

I opened the mini-fridge situated just beside my seat and took out a can of beer. My hand became wet as I touched the beads of icy water on its surface.

"Very okay, Miss. Your dad grew white hair now just like me," he said. Laughing, he raised his hand to his head and disoriented his hair.

I opened the can and took a sip. The refreshing cold liquid relieved the heat of my head. I really don't want to go back here. I preferred to explore the world and write stories of the people I met. But Dad wanted me to manage the business because there was no other person he can rely to.

"I didn't really care about that, Mang Domeng. For now, I really dislike him." Hate was a very strong word so she didn't want to use it often.

"Miss Kara, your dad is just thinking of your future. I know it's not my place to say this," he paused for a while then continued "but writing stories cannot give you an a.s.surance to earn money."

I sighed in disappointment. I am tired of hearing other people reprimanding me about this. I rolled my eyes and put the half-finished can above the mini-fridge. Did everyone think I don't know that thing? I don't care if it won't give me money as long as I would be able to do my pa.s.sion. I pursed my lips and didn't answer. I am tired of explaining the same thing over and over to them.

I closed my eyes not because I am sleepy but because I don't want to have a conversation with Mang Domeng. I don't want to dislike the only person I am glad to see while staying here. Our mansion was two hours away from the airport and we have an hour and a half left to travel.

I didn't realize that I fell asleep until the abrupt stop of the car woke me up. The can of beer fell on the floor. I slightly raised my foot when the liquid started to flow out of the can. I vividly heard the curse of Mang Domeng.

"What happened, Mang Domeng?"

I looked in front of the car. Did he hit an animal or worse a person? But Mang Domeng was a very careful driver. There was a white sport utility vehicle in front of us. From there, a man wearing a black inner shirt that was topped by a black coat, black pants and shoes got off. His hands were covered by black gloves while holding a gun.

But why was he holding a gun? Oh, s.h.i.t! He wore a black mask leaving only his eyes for us to see. He started walking over to our car and stop right in front of it. What was he going to do?

Mang Domeng turned to me with fear and regret was evident to his eyes. My eyebrows furrowed as I coiled over to my seat.

"I'm sorry, Miss Kara. Please... please save me," he pleaded as tears started to fall from his eyes.

I took a look at the man outside the car. My eyes widened when he pointed his gun to Mang Domeng. What the h.e.l.l? Was he going to kill us?

"Please... Miss Kara! Tell him to stop!"

"Why?" I don't even know that man. How can I tell him to stop? I cannot believe this was happening to me. I pressed my hand to my chest. I can almost hear the loud beatings of my heart. My knees started to shake.

"Miss Kara, I am sorry for everything! Please, stop that man to kill me."

He was going to k-kill Mang Domeng? No, I won't let that happen. Not within my watch. Even if I didn't understand why Mang Domeng was sorry, I nodded my head repeatedly. Just to a.s.sure him that I am going to stop the man.

But before I can step my foot outside, a m.u.f.fled shot was heard inside the car. Mang Domeng's hands slowly let go of the steering wheel and landed to his side. There was a small circle with cracks surrounded in it on the windshield of the car.

With my hand covered my mouth, I made my way to see what happened to Mang Domeng. I touch his shoulder but he didn't make a move. That was when I saw the blood flowing from his temple down to his jaw.

"Oh my G.o.d, Mang Domeng," I panicked. Why was he not answering me? In my curiousity, I held his chin and pulled his face for me to see.

My breath hitched as I saw his face. His eyes were left opened and his mouth slightly opened, too. Life escaped in his grasp. He was dead. There was a hole at the center of his forehead. From there, the blood was flowing freely. He was really dead!

I shouted in horror as realization hit me. I am the next one to die. My life will be the next one to be taken. Before I can stop it, hot tears started to fall from my eyes. No, I did not come back here just to be f.u.c.king dead. I didn't come back here just to witness this hideous s.h.i.t of a crime.

The man outside was approaching to the side of the car like he knew which side I was in. I'm not going to let him catch me. I wiped my tears and suppressed my sobs. I need to be strong. I wrote stories which had a scene like this before. But I didn't f.u.c.king know that it will be going to happen to me in my life. I just need to remember what the main character did during that scene. Yes, I need to if my goal was to get help and survive.

I transferred to the opposite side of the car. He was trying to open the door but it was locked. My soul escaped from my body once again when he shot it. He looked at me straight in the eye. Even if his mouth was covered, I know he was smirking.

I didn't wait for him to successfully open the door that he just shot. I opened the door on my side and stepped out. I didn't look at him again as I started to run to the direction of the airport. The sun was starting to set but its shine was enough for me see. I never run like this all my life. I swing my arms to give my feet momentum.

How come there were no other cars pa.s.sing by? It seemed like fate betrayed me. Then I remember the face of my father. Would my dad regret forcing me back here? Would my dad cry if I am found dead tomorrow? No, I can just make my dad cry but not to the reason that I am dead. With vast determination to live, I run faster than I'll ever be.

Oxygen started to run out from my lungs. The sides of my stomach were also starting to hurt. The soles of my feet felt like burning as I scrubbed them to the ground. My mouth was wide open as inhaled and exhaled. The tears and sweat mixed on my face.

I know it was prohibited to look back when there was someone chasing – that was a number one rule in a horror or mystery/thriller novels and movies. But I feel like I am far enough on that f.u.c.king man. I let out a laugh and sobbed profusely when I saw no one behind me. I cannot see the limousine from here. I am thankful and the same time frustrated.

Mang Domeng probably resented me a lot. I'm very sorry for not being able to do anything. My feet cannot bear the exhaustion anymore as they willingly gave up. I sat on the ground and cried my heart out. Tears seemed unstoppable this time so I just let them flow from my eyes. I covered my two hands on my face and straightened my feet. I am too weak to run, too tired to move and too wretched to feel.

Too worn-out in my position, I looked up to see the red-orange brush of the sky. It looked like a painting. I never thought I would appreciate the sky in this hour. I smiled between my cries. Life is really not what we expect to be. I thought my life was a cliché. I would come back here and manage dad's business. Then he'll set me up with a young business man. And I would be stuck into a loveless marriage. Yes, I predicted my whole life and I thought it was correct. That was how mom and dad met. Too cliché!

I repeatedly blinked my eyes when my vision blurred. The surrounding was spinning around me. My breath became shortened. What the f.u.c.k is going on? Not wanting to fight the darkness that kept pulling me, I let myself laid down on the hard ground. The heat of the cement and the small rocks on its surface welcomed my back and head.

I didn't know when my tears stopped but I just look at the sky again. This life was f.u.c.king complicated. That was my last thought when darkness finally won and pulled me within.