Bab 2: Chapter 2
When I wake up, the room is filled with the soft glow of dawn. My body aches in ways I've never felt before. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I force them back, refusing to let them fall. I can't afford to cry. Not now. Not yet.
I turn my head slowly, every movement a painful reminder of the assault on my body. And there he is - Alex, lying next to me, still asleep, his face peaceful, almost serene in sleep. He looks so different from the man who…
I shake my head, putting the thought away before they can take root. I need to get out of here. Now.
I gather my clothes, my hands trembling as I dress, my fingers fumbling with the buttons. I stole a glance back at Alex, my heart racing with fear and disgust.
I slipped out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest, as I made my way down the hall.
Just as I reached the end of the hallway, I heard someone muttering my name. My heart skips. I turn, and there he is - Alex, holding my job tag with my name inscribed on it.
"Emma, please," he began, his voice filled with confusion, "Can you tell what just happened between us? B…but how did I get there?"
His eyes are clouded with uncertainty, as if he's trying to piece together the fragments of a night lost to alcohol.
There's uncertainty there, a lack of comprehension that sends a fresh wave of anger and panic crashing over me.
How dare he act confused? How dare he pretend not to remember?
I'm not ready for this. Not now. I took a deep breath, my fear turning into anger as I snatched my tag from his hand, my fingers curling around the cool metal as if it was the only thing anchoring me to reality.
"Don't pretend you don't remember," I snapped, my voice trembling with a mixture of fury and pain.
I didn't give him a chance to respond. I rushed to the staff quarters, tears streaming down my face. I lock myself in the bathroom and collapse on the floor, my sobs echoing in the small, cold space.
The sobs I've been holding back for what feels like forever finally break free, echoing off the walls, raw and uncontrolled.
I heard a noise in the bathroom door. My heart skips, and I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. I know that knock - precise, authoritative. Mrs. Aria.
"Emma?" Her voice was laced with impatience, and I heard the door creak open slightly. "Emma, what are you doing in here, this time?"
I struggled to compose myself, wiping my tear-streaked face, as I turned towards the door. "Y-yes, ma'm," I stammered, my voice skipping. I pushed the door open further, revealing myself in the small cold space.
Mrs Aria's eyes narrow as she looks at me sharply, her eyes scrolling on my untidy appearance. "Didn't you go home last night?" she asks, suspicion obvious in her tone.
I swallowed hard, trying to think of an excuse, but my mind was blank. "I…I had to finish some work," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her lips press into a thin line, and I see the judgment in her eyes, the disapproval engraved into every line of her face. "Finish work?" She scoffs. Or were you off being wayward somewhere, Emma?"
Mrs Aria stepped closer, her voice barely like a whisper. "Listen up, young lady. I don't care what you've been up to, but you will go home, clean yourself up and get back here immediately.
If you're not back in time. I will write a petition against you, and I guarantee you'll be fired. Do you understand me?"
I nod, too afraid to speak, too broken to defend myself.
The words she's thrown at me cut deep, compounding the guilt and shame I already feel.
Wayward? Is that what she thinks of me? Is that what I've become?
"Go," she orders, stepping back and waving me away dismissively. "And make sure you're not late."
I don't wait to be told twice, I flee the bathroom, my legs trembling as I make my way through the hotel, past the luxurious rooms and elegant corridors that now feel like a prison.
By the time I reach my apartment, I'm numb, too exhausted to feel anything. I push open the door and step inside, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort
.
My mother is still asleep in her room, her frail form barely visible under the blankets. I stood in the doorway, watching her for a moment, letting the steady fall and rise of her chest soothe the storm raging inside me.
I quietly headed to the bathroom. I stripped off my clothes, my fingers fumbling with the buttons as I peel the fabric away from my skin.
The water is freezing cold as it rushes over me, but I don't care. I scrub at my skin until it's raw, trying to wash away the filth, the shame, the memories of his hands on me.
But no matter how hard I scrub, the feeling of his touch lingers, like a stain that won't come out.
When I was done, I dressed in fresh clothes, the routine bringing some comfort. I went to the kitchen and prepared my mother's medication. I took the tray into her room and gently woke her.
"Mom, it's time for your Meds,' I said softly, helping her sit up.
She blinks sleepily at me, her eyes clouded with concern "You're home early, Emma. It's everything alright?"
Oh, she didn't remember I wasn't home last night. I force a smile, trying to keep my voice steady. "Everything's fine Mom. I just need to come home for a while.
She takes the medication from me, her hands trembling slightly as she does. " You work too hard," she murmurs, her voice weak. "You need to take care of yourself too, Emma.'
I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and watch as she swallows the pills, each one a reminder of how fragile she is. When she's settled back in bed, I kiss her forehead and whisper - "you can go back to sleep" before heading to my room.
The moment I close the door, the tears I've been holding back finally break free. I sink to the floor, burying my face in my hands as a sob tracks my body.
I was exhausted. So, I decided to take a rest before I resume going back to work, but sleep won't come.
But just as I was starting to drift off, I heard a scream from the other room - my mother's voice, filled with terror.
"Emma! help!"
My heart clings to my chest, and I'm on my feet in an instant, rushing towards her room, fear pounding in my veins.
What could have happened? What's wrong?
The question occupied my mind as I reached her door, my hand trembling on the knob.
But as I pushed the door open, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next.
Hadiah
-- Hadiah diterima Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
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