Chapter 2 THE BOY FROM HER CHILDHOOD

Finally covering the cut on her feet with the bandage, Scarlet placed the nylon filled with cotton wool and the methylated spirit back into a small box. She carried the box from the floor, leapt to her wardrobe, opened it and placed it inside.

She then closed her wardrobe and walked back to her bed to lay it well. She was doing this when she recalled the day's event with the customer, and she yelled, scattering the bed even more. She closed her eyes—something she does whenever she felt tensed—to calm herself down. She felt a slight headache and she rubbed her forehead with her right palm. "I deserve better," she muttered to herself.

Although she knew the customer was wrong in so many ways and what she had done was in self-defence, she could still feel her heart beating faster than it normally does. She was worried, not about the customer's well-being, but her job. Her job was at risk now, because the customer might report her to the authority for breaking the wine, and also for hitting him. No one needed to tell her that they would not listen to her part of the story, because the customer is always right.

The thought of that only burdened her more, because she had nothing else to rely on and if she could lose the job, that was back to square one for her.

Her eyes caught sight of the standing mirror opposite her bed, and she walked further to its front to stare at herself. She folded her arms as she examined herself in the mirror. Her hands subconsciously moved to her black long hair as she traced its edges down to her neck. She could not help but stare at her own eyes—something she had grown to love about herself. When she was younger, her childhood best friend used to tell her that the thing he loved the most about her was her eyes.

They were ocean blue, and he would constantly sing the first two lines of Billie Eilish's Ocean Eyes to her.

I've been watching you for some time. Can't stop staring at those ocean eyes.

Her mind drifted to the days when he was still around. Those good times when she was still the happy Rosalia everyone knew. Despite her parents' lack of wealth, one thing she was always thankful for was that she had someone she could always lean on. He was always there for her, until one day, he wasn't there anymore.

What had happened, she could not tell, and that was one thing she had been asking herself ever since. The loud ring of her phone brought her back to reality. She hurried to her bed to pick up the call. It was from an unknown number, but she picked it up anyway.

"Hello?" She spoke first.

"Miss Scarlet Oxford?" The person on the other side of the phone said. It was a female's voice, and somehow, she could already tell who it was and why the person had called. Her heart skipped a bit as she closed her eyes again, rubbing her forehead with her free hand.

"Uhm, yes." "The director would like to see you in his office right away. Oh, and you should also know he hates tardiness. So, please, get here as fast as possible."

"Uhm, yes. I'll be there right away. Thank you." The lady hung up immediately. "God, I'm fucked." She said as she dropped her phone on her bed. Her palms had become sweaty by now, so she tried to clean them with her top. Her heart had not stopped beating fast either, and she needed no doctor to tell her that she was extremely anxious and scared.

"I hope this goes well. Today has been bad enough for me." She muttered. Then, she stood up to get herself dressed and hurriedly left for the director's office, but not after drinking the chocolate flavoured latte she had kept in her refrigerator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Good day. Uhm, I got a call earlier to come to see the director for—"

"Miss Scarlet Oxford, if I am not mistaken?" The young lady of about her age, who was the director's secretary said to her. She immediately recognized the voice as the one she heard over the phone some minutes back. On her table was a name stand which had the name Chloe Hart written boldly on it, and the tag 'secretary' beneath the name.

"Yes. Yes, ma'am." She replied nervously as she rubbed her left hand with her right.

"A minute, please." The secretary said to her. She then picked up the telephone on her table and dialled a number. Immediately, the receiver picked up the call.

"Miss Oxford is here sir. Yes, alright. Right away, sir." She ended the call and placed the telephone back in its place. Then, she looked up at Scarlet.

"You can go in. That way." She pointed to an inner door. "

“Thank you," Scarlet replied as she tried to force a smile. She limped towards the door, her legs shaking as she took every step closer to the door. When she got to the front of the door, she paused. She closed her eyes again to calm herself down and after about ten seconds, she knocked on the said door.

"Come in." A loud, firm and husky voice replied from the inside. Scarlet turned the knob and sighed for the last time before pushing the door open. She walked in and closed the door behind her. Then, she turned, but her head was bowed as she stood in front of the closed door.

"I didn't summon you here so you could stand by my door to make a pity show." She heard him say.

"Have your seat," he added. I can do this, her subconscious mind told her. She raised her head and walked further into the office. With every step she took, her face remained glued to the director's face. It was either her vision was blurry due to her anxiety, or she was imagining things. But as she walked closer and closer, she realized that her eyes were not deceiving her after all. It was who she thought it was. The only thing that changed was his voice, but the curly black hair, the baby blue eyes and the pointed nose did not change at all.

"Have your seat," he said again, his raspy and deep voice resounded in the office. This time, she was already right in front of his table. Her eyes remained glued to him, as she looked for one more piece of evidence to make her completely sure that it was him. She dragged one of the chairs opposite his table forward and sat on it, facing him. He did not spare her another glance though, as his attention seemed to be on something on the small stool beside him. He turned to pick up something from the small stool beside him, and it was then she confirmed her thoughts as she saw a wound that was stitched on his neck.

"The star stitches," she muttered to herself. "Did you say something?" He asked as he finally looked up at her, placing the paper he had bent to take from the stool, on his table. She noticed the tattoos on his hands as he dropped the paper. He wore a round neck t-shirt, so she could see his bare hand right after his elbow.

"No… nothing, sir." She said as she stared at him. Her eyes remained glued to his eyes, looking to see if he would also remember her. It is dim, she thought. The stitched wound on his neck in a star sign confirmed it all.

"Good. We have a policy here at Galway Hotels, and I believe you were told everything when you accepted the job..." As he spoke, her eyes drifted to the name tag on the table—Christopher Kent—with 'director' beneath his name. She was right. It was him. It was her long-gone best friend.

"A very important customer of ours reported that you broke his glass of wine, and when he requested another one, you hit him and took off." He said and paused, the words rolling out of his mouth effortlessly. Scarlet, who heard what he had just said clearly, and was supposed to defend herself by letting him know he had tried to harass her, sat there staring at him. She could not help but wonder when he had learnt to speak with a French accent. A lot had changed about him, including his speech. By now, she had zoned out. He was staring at her and she also sat there staring at him.

Finally, he has recognized me, she thought. She was about to vent her anger on him, and ask the questions she had wanted to ask him ever since he disappeared without a goodbye when he spoke.

"I believe you are not deaf, are you? I ordered you to pack your bags and leave and you're still seated here staring at me like a homeless person?"

"I didn't—"

"You're fired." He cut in and stated firmly as he pushed the paper in front of him on the table towards her.

Her eyes moved from him to the letter. On it were the words; 'sack letter'. She swallowed hard, trying to process the whole event.