Chapter 41 : Help Me Angela

Dusk descended upon the scene, casting a veil of dimness over their surroundings. A sense of foreboding hung heavy in the air as Fredrick, his face smeared with his crimson life force, gasped for breath. His piercing gaze locked onto Angela, freezing her in place as a shiver crawled down her spine and whispered, “Please help me, Angela.”
With trepidation clutching at her heart, Angela squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to distance herself from Fredrick. She scrambled away, her hands desperately clawing through the earthy mire until they became ensnared in a small, mysterious crevice. As her fingers closed around something solid buried within the mud, she felt an electric jolt of curiosity.
Extracting the object from its murky resting place, Angela clutched it tightly, fueling her determination to escape the encroaching darkness of the forest. Pushing her weary body to its limits, she darted through the dense foliage, her movements punctuated by the rustle of leaves. Finally, a faint glimmer of hope beckoned from a distant road illuminated by a solitary lamplight.
The strain of relentless running threatened to consume her, but Angela pushed on, her steps quickening as she approached the road leading to the mansion. Breathing heavily, she hurried along the dimly lit path, every fiber of her being focused on reaching safety. At last, she stumbled into the pink room, slamming the door shut behind her, listening to her erratic heartbeat. Tears mingled with streaks of mud on Angela's weary face, a testament to the harrowing ordeal she had endured.
The raging shower water was poured rapidly on her face and naked body, her trembling form a reflection of her shattered composure. The torrential downpour masked her tears, blending them seamlessly with the rivulets that streamed down her face. With each lathering motion, her hands scrubbed furiously, desperate to cleanse herself of the haunting images that clung to her psyche.
Her once blood-stained hands, now pale and ghostly, bore witness to the horrors she had encountered. The water, with its raw power, assaulted her senses, providing a temporary respite from the turmoil within.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to drift, surrendering to the whirlpool of thoughts that swirled relentlessly. Visions of Frederick's outstretched, blood-soaked hands burned in her mind, haunting her.
Seated on the cool tiles of the shower floor, she curled in on herself, seeking solace and a fleeting moment of respite. Her arms shook with a mix of fear and anguish, as she wrestled with the endless possibilities that entangled her thoughts. What fate awaited Frederick in the dark depths of the forest below the cliff? The haunting notion that his body might remain undiscovered for an eternity gnawed at her conscience.

Guilt, heavy as an anchor, gripped Angela's fragile frame. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the relentless streams of water, as if the universe itself wept for the choices she had made. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her, and in the embrace of the shower's symphony, she surrendered to the solace of sleep, her dreams consumed by a relentless torrent of remorse.

In the dead of night, a thunderous pounding shattered the fragile silence, jolting Angela from the clutches of her restless slumber. Clutching a towel tightly around her trembling form, she hastened to answer the insistent call. Opening the door, she found Leonardo, clad in his pajamas, his eyes filled with worry and reproach.

"What time did you return? Why didn't you inform me of your presence? And what about the cut on your hand?" Leonardo bombarded her with a rapid succession of questions, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm... I'm okay," Angela replied hesitantly, her voice betraying her unease. "Just give me a few moments to prepare your meal." Her hands quivered uncontrollably, evidence of the turmoil that plagued her.

A flicker of intuition crossed Leonardo's face as he sniffed the air. "You're still damp from the shower."
"It was... it was just really hot outside," she stumbled, her voice betraying her feeble attempt at deception.
Leonardo's expression pierced through her flimsy excuse. "You're lying?"
“Why do you think I'm lying?" she countered, her voice laced with genuine bewilderment.
"There was a low-pressure system in town, and it rained earlier," Leonardo explained, his voice steady. "You claimed it was hot outside, contradicting what occurred."
Frozen in her tracks, Angela realized the futility of hiding the truth. The weight of her actions, the possibility that she had taken Frederick's life, loomed over her like an impenetrable shadow.
"Maybe I... maybe I killed Frederick," she whispered, her voice barely audible, the admission hanging heavy in the air.
"What?" Leonardo's astonishment and confusion were palpable. "What happened?" Without hesitation, he stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the room as Angela closed the door behind them. In the privacy of their sanctuary, Angela divulged every detail, recounting the events that had unfolded after the doctor's appointment.
"He wanted to rape me," Angela whispered, her voice quivering with the weight of her traumatic revelation. Leonardo's jaw clenched tightly as he absorbed the horrifying truth that unfolded before him. Angela, consumed by uncertainty, needed to confirm what had transpired on the cliff.
“Maybe, I should check on him,” She mustered the courage to ask Leonardo for permission to return, but he, driven by a protective instinct, insisted on accompanying her.
“Let’s go,” Leonardo said firmly.
Together, they embarked on a treacherous journey, their footsteps cautious and deliberate, Angela clutching a flashlight as their guide through the darkness. The ground, still damp from the rain that had washed away the remnants of the violent encounter, held no trace of Frederick. Angela's heart ached with torment as she grappled with the unanswered question of his fate. Had he somehow survived? Or had he been discovered and whisked away to a hospital? The uncertainty gnawed at her every thought.
Their time on the cliff was brief, Angela's nerves frayed to the breaking point. Recognizing her fragility, Leonardo allowed her to retire to her room early. However, sleep eluded Angela, her mind consumed by a maelstrom of fear, guilt, and unanswered questions.
The following day, Angela spent hours tirelessly dialing the numbers of every hospital in the city, searching for any trace of Frederick. Each call yielded the same disheartening result – no admission under the name Frederick. Worry and hope mingled within her, a tumultuous cocktail of emotions that left her on edge. She continued to dial Frederick's phone, desperately seeking a connection, but it remained unanswered until eventually, it was switched off, rendering her efforts futile. As time pressed on, Angela found herself trapped in a cycle of restless nights and anxious days.
One evening, the reverberation of commotion outside roused her from her troubled slumber. Hastily, she opened the window of her pink room, catching a glimpse of Lara's indistinct figure amid the garden foliage, engaged in a heated argument with an unidentified individual. Angela's heart quickened as she silently made her way to the main door, carefully cracking it open to eavesdrop on Lara's conversation.
"Have you heard anything about him?" Lara's voice carried a palpable sense of agitation as she spoke into her phone, desperately seeking information about Frederick's whereabouts. Angela concealed herself behind the door, straining to hear Lara's words. Exhaustion etched lines of weariness across Lara's face as she ended her fruitless phone calls. Angela's anguish deepened, the lack of any concrete information about Frederick's location intensifying her distress. It was painfully apparent that no one knew of Frederick's current whereabouts.
Retreating to the confines of her room, Angela surrendered herself to a night devoid of sleep, her mind swirling with torturous thoughts, grappling with the haunting question of what had truly befallen Frederick.

Another morning dawned, casting its soft light upon the kitchen where Mrs. Vera and Mrs. Gale enjoyed their morning coffee. Angela entered quietly, preparing her cup of solace. Lara's troubled expression caught their attention as she joined them, her eyes searching for answers. "I tried calling Frederick, but his phone was off. What do you think?" she implored, seeking opinions from the room's occupants, but silence greeted her desperate inquiry.
"Fear not, Lara," Mrs. Vera offered, her voice soothing. "You can reach out to our common friends; perhaps they have news of Frederick's whereabouts." Angela, burdened with the knowledge of what had truly transpired, maintained her solemn demeanor, while Leonardo, in a rare moment of intervention, brought the conversation to a halt.

"Frederick will return," Leonardo interjected, his voice steady. "If something grave had befallen him, it would surely be plastered across the news by now. You know how he enjoyed making us worry."

"Fredrick is missing, Leonardo," Lara said with clarity.