Checkpoint D; XX9th time

This looks like the new house Carice and I lived in after Alex died. How nostalgic. I remember Carice misbehaving often, but in the end she turned out to be a good child I’m proud of. Wait… Did I just forget she’s the one who killed me? I leak out a small laugh.

There’s nobody here. I walk around to see if there’s anyone. It’s currently late evening so I should be somewhere here in the house. Nope, not in the living room. Not in my bedroom. Not in my personal office. Oh! There I was, in Carice’s bedroom.

Of course, I don’t actually see myself in her bedroom, if that were the case, then it would have broken the story continuity. What I see was Carice crying in her bedroom and mouthing some words to an empty space near her door.

I remember this! I grounded her because she went out to party all night with her “friends”. If I recall, there were boys too. At her age, she really shouldn’t be risking herself like this. Luckily nothing happened.

Carice retaliates, but I didn’t and won’t change my stance. It’s too dangerous for a teenage girl to be roaming around so late at night! She keeps arguing with me, but her arguments don’t make any sense at all. Good on you, past me, for steeling your heart and disciplining her!

There’s really nothing here worth watching so I go outdoors to take a breath of fresh air.

When I look back at the house, the size of it always gets my heart throbbing. I afforded this? I’m actually quite successful huh. It’s a Victorian mansion with dozens of spacious rooms. I had architects design some rooms specifically for Carice and me. The office I usually spend my time in is the biggest of them all and I can focus on my work without disturbance. I love this mansion. It’s my pride.

*

Checkpoint C; X10th time

Red and blue lights flash in front of me. Jesus! Who the hell is playing with lights? It’s blinding me! I close my eyes on reflex.

“It’s alright. I can listen to you if you’re closer. Slowly walk back here for me, will you?”

When I open my eyes, I see that there are a lot of people surrounding an empty space, forming a half circle. There are cars behind the crowd of people. This is a bridge. The woman (whom I’ll call Pear) talking just then is a policewoman. Since she is talking to the empty half circle near the edge of the bridge, I guess that means she is (or rather, was) talking to me.

“Honey, what’s wrong? You don’t have to do this,” Pear says in a soothing voice.

“”

“Okay. Don’t worry, we won’t come closer. I just want to talk to you. What’s your name?”

“”

“That’s a pretty name. Do you have any hobbies?”

“”

“Whoops, you caught me, haha. But it’s true that I’m curious what you like to do. Maybe that’ll help you take your mind of things? I know that worked for me.”

“”

“Yes, I love the violin as well! I think my favourite piece is, uhm, Canon in D, the one by Bach!”

Dear readers, Canon in D was, in fact, written by Pachelbel.

“”

“So your spouse plays the violin a lot… Is your spouse here? Can you give him or her a call?”

“”

“So that’s what happened. It must have been rough. I have a husband as well. I can’t imagine the pain you’ve gone through. Do you have family?”

“”

“Do you have family?”

I must not have answered her if she repeated her question.

“”

“What’s your daughter’s name?”

“”

“How’s Carice? Is Carice a good girl?”

“”

“That’s nice to hear. You must be proud of her.”

“”

Pear keeps nodding. It isn’t until at least a minute later she speaks again.

“You’ve got to keep that promise right? It would be troublesome to leave her alone. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want that either.”

Pear treads carefully into the half circle.

“Do you have a picture of her? Perhaps I can have a look at her.”

Continuing to walk inward the half circle, Pear extends her hand to grab something. Suddenly, out of thin air, a photo appears in her hand.

I move in closer to take the photo out of her hand. In the photo, the three of us are there. Carice and Alex are looking at the camera, but I am looking, surprisingly, at Carice. Not Alex nor the camera. The face I had is one of determination. Looking at the background in the photo, I realise that the picture was taken in the hospital, quite possibly just before Alex’s final surgery, meaning that our conversation in checkpoint B had already happened.

Something clouds my vision. Maybe it’s the sun. Maybe exhaust gas of the cars.

I understand the meaning of this. Of everything.

A pure white cat appears on my shoulder. Looking at me gently, it brings me to a familiar place.

The pure white cat appears on your shoulder. Looking at you gently, it asks for a good rating. “I’m not sorry for the plug,” it says.