Capítulo 11: Burglar No.2
"Unhand me," the woman demanded, struggling against Neville's hold. He had her arms restrained and her body pinned down. "If I let you go, you'll attack me," Neville replied. Just then, he caught a whiff of another scent. Turning his head to investigate, he saw a fist rapidly approaching. The punch landed squarely on his face, disorienting him and giving the woman the chance to escape his grasp.
Neville felt something wet dripping from his nose. Wiping it away, he immediately assumed a defensive stance, realizing he was now up against two intruders. His fists clenched low near his chest, his brows furrowed in concentration. The new intruder was a man with a brown low fade haircut, blue eyes, and a strong, pronounced jawline. He was as tall as Neville but slightly more muscular, wearing a grey long-sleeve shirt, black pants, and Timberland boots—again, inside Neville's house, which irked him even more.
Neville threw a punch, but the male intruder evaded it and countered with a punch of his own. Neville blocked it with his left arm, but the intruder didn't relent. He continued to rain blows on Neville, who guarded his face with his arms. The intruder then aimed for Neville's gut, causing his guard to crumble, and followed up with an uppercut that Neville narrowly avoided by stepping back.
Neville attempted a knee kick, but the man blocked it with his other hand. Frustrated, Neville began to throw a flurry of punches, reciprocating the earlier assault. The intruder weaved through Neville's blows, so Neville resorted to a left feint, then landing a heavy right hook on the man's jaw. "1:1," Neville thought as the man jumped back.
"Who is this guy?" the male intruder asked his companion.
" You just attack strangers?" Asked Neville but he was ignored by the two invaders.
"Grey," she replied.
"I can see why you failed against him," the man remarked.
"Grey, do you know where Ophelia is?" he asked.
"Who is Ophelia?" Neville responded, confused.
"This bast—" the woman started to shout, but the man interrupted, "Miss Blaire." He said after noticing the confusion in Neville's face.
"As I told Intruder No. 1, I don't know," Neville said.
"I-Intruder No. 1?" the woman echoed, shocked by the name.
"Where did you last see her?" the male intruder pressed.
"I can't tell you that because of contracts. Also, if you were resourceful enough to find me, you must know of my activities last night," Neville said, dropping his guard. The male intruder subconsciously did the same.
"So, Intruder 1 and 2, please leave. You've made my home a mess and ruined my morning," Neville said with an annoyed sigh, further irritating the female intruder.
"Oi, neighbor, can you keep it down? Some of us have nothing to do today. Don't ruin our morning, and don't make me call the police!" a neighbor shouted from his door, wearing a face mask and a sleeping hairnet.
Neville sighed again, looking at the two intruders who were baffled by the neighbor's complaint about havingnothingbettertodo that day. Clearing his throat, the male intruder said, "I am sorry for the commotion and trouble we caused, Mr. Grey." His apology sounded sincere enough. He turned to his companion with a nod, signaling their departure.
"It's fine. I'm used to dealing with problematic people," Neville said with a sigh, prompting the man to chuckle awkwardly. "Ahh... a piece of advice: you seem like a person with principles, which I respect. Don't get involved with Ophelia Blaire, or it will ruin you and those close to you." As he mentioned 'Ophelia Blaire,' a grim expression crossed his face, and the woman's eyebrows furrowed, her eyes squinting and mouth pursing in disgust.
"Advice from an intruder who was the first to attack me, huh?" Neville said, causing the man to shake his head in defeat as he walked out.
The woman glared at Neville, but he remained unfazed.
"Humph!" She clicked her tongue before turning her gaze away.
" What a bunch of weirdos." Neville thought.
--------------------
" Clank!"
Closing the door behind him, Neville surveyed the mess left by the intruders. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Tsk." The thought of two strangers trespassing in his home with their shoes on made his skin crawl in disgust. As he walked to the bathroom, he swore he felt small rocks and debris underfoot, further irritating him.
Reaching the bathroom, he saw his unrinsed toothbrush, abandoned in haste to confront his unwelcome 'guests'. The toothpaste had dried, coating the bristles in a crusty white layer. He immediately began rinsing it, then applied fresh paste and brushed his teeth until he was satisfied. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed dried blood smeared around his nose. He used water to rinse his face and clear his nasal passages, watching as the blood splattered into the white sink below, before they were satisfyingly swept away with the running water from the tap.
Once he was done, Neville decided to mop the apartment. The dirt tracked in by the intruders' shoes and the lingering scents of the woman's perfume and the man's deodorant, both of which offended his nose and feet, compelled him to clean. He opened the windows to air out the space and set to work, mopping every corner until the floors gleamed.
Afterwards, he headed to the shower, feeling the need to wash away the sweat and grime from the morning's altercation. As he scrubbed, he inspected his hands, noting the red marks left by the blows he had received. In less than 24 hours, he had gotten fired, been involved in a gun standoff and fought off intruders—all because he had driven a man named Blaire to a hotel where he had decided to die.
Stepping out of the shower, Neville dried himself off and dressed in a black long-sleeve t-shirt, a pair of black pants, and sandals. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, then headed out to run some errands, hoping the day would bring a semblance of normalcy to his life once again.
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