Paige's Club

Chapter 8. A Letter Of Awakening

 "Why did you do that to me, Clayton? What did I do wrong?" These whispers echoed in his room while he was asleep.

Clay…Clayton!

Upon hearing these whispers Clayton's eyes flung open with a glint of shock in them. Initially, he thought there was someone with him in his room, but when his consciousness was restored he realized there was no one. 

The room was ample and elegant, and the scent of his black Orchid cologne was lingering in the air. His large and well-designed ebony wooden wardrobe was shut and mounted almost close to the window whose light curtain twirled continually as the calm wind was blowing. Beside his bed was a little crystal table on which a bed lamp, a voluminous book, and his wristwatch lay, ticking quietly. 

Sitting on the bed, still sleepy, the whispers lingered louder in his ears, but once his eyes flung open the whispers seized. Alarmed, he exhaled, and as he could hardly see, he quickly turned on the bed lamp, and then the room got illuminated. He quickly picked up his wristwatch and gasped when he saw that it was 6:57 AM which he should have been leaving for work by now. Ignoring the nightmare, he threw off the blanket, got out of bed, and hurried for the washroom.

***

"Late again!" A tall man in a black suit and red tie said, standing by his desk with a cup of coffee in his right hand.

Hurrying through the hallway between various opposite offices and holding a briefcase, Clayton said, "It will never happen again, boss." Then he paused in front of his office to hear his boss' response. But the man only gazed at him briefly.

"Well," Mr. Mavricio said. "Next time, you're fired…and I mean it. Gimme the printed patents for the contracts. The Western Companies reps are on their way."

"Oops!" Clayton rubbed his hair awkwardly. "I couldn't finish typing yesterday because of the meeting. But I will wrap it up in a few minutes." 

The man shrugged and sipped his coffee while Clayton got into his office and shut the door.

Clayton shrugged off his blue suit and hung it on the crotch behind his chair, sat, and turned on the laptop on his sleek wide desk. He opened Microsoft Word and continued typing. 

Once he had finished, he printed it and got out of the office with the portfolio.

After he was done discussing with Mr. Mavricio, in a few hours he got back to his office and plumped into his chair. Analyzing what to do next, he opened the first drawer and was amazed to see a little white envelope. Curiosity gleamed in his gaze as he picked it up and saw a slant inscription—To Clayton Milton. He didn't worry much but briefly wondered who could have given him a letter that he had not read. But, then he could recollect and was certain that even his secretary didn't bring a letter to him, much less receive it from someone else.

…he hoped it wasn't important information that he'd skipped.

He quickly pulled out the paper, unfolded it, and started reading.

Dear Clayton,

It's been a whole while since we went apart. Don't you see? Anyways, it's obvious that you're doing well, which is why you think you can get away with your selfish action, right? Are you satisfied now? You're the only one who knows the dark secret…and of course, you have me to contend with! Ready?

Reply once you get this. 

                                        Yours lethal, 

                                        Dark Secret.

Clayton couldn't help the shock that struck him and cold sweat swept from his neck into his pants. He just couldn't believe this was happening. He was looking blankly at the paper and was lost in thought. There was no doubt he was in danger…and had to run…

"Run?"                                                           

A familiar female voice floated into his ears, intruding on his thoughts. Then he raised his gaze slowly and his heart almost leaped out of his mouth when he saw that same ghastly creature sitting on the chair across from him, facing downwards with its massive hair like a mane around its face.

What! 

He was so scared, he couldn't breathe and began to shiver inwardly.

"You've not replied yet," She mumbled.

"Sorry?" Initially, he didn't get her.

"I said," She said harshly with mixed voices. "You've not replied yet!"

"And what if I don't?!" Clayton said exasperatedly, slapdash pulling out his gun.

"I'll go the hard way!" She said and raised her head rapidly, gritting her teeth, revealing her empty eye sockets with profuse blood gushing out and sweeping down her cheeks like tears. 

But before she could attack, Clayton arose, pulled the trigger, and fired severally only to realize that he'd been firing a vacant chair.

Dammit! Gosh!

Before he could think, almost all his co-workers had already flooded his office to enquire about what was going on. But he didn't give a damn about them, even though they'd met him with a gun.

"What's going on here?" Mr. Mavricio asked, curiously looking around, and was astonished at seeing a gun with Clayton. "W…what's that gun for?"

 Before he could respond, a ghastly face erupted on the laptop's screen but it appeared he was the only one seeing it since nobody screamed. Feeling pissed, he smashed the laptop against the floor and stepped on it severally until it was almost damaged and the people marveled at his acts.

"Clayton!" Someone called out.

Ignoring them, he picked up his briefcase and suit, then walked out of the office, leaving the people marveling.

"Where the fuck are you heading? What happened?" Mr. Marvricio let out. "Clayton! You'll surely pay for this! And you know that!" 

****

Clayton got into his car, started the engine, and zoomed off with speed. It was still a day, perhaps he could flee to another country. His head was twirling drastically, the pressure and shock on him was extreme. He lowered his gaze to the gun lying on the other seat and looked away again. His grip on the steering was firm as he was lost in the thought of relocating. Still, he couldn't believe this was happening. Just imagine running away from work because of…a ghost. Imagine the way his coworkers stared at him in astonishment, thinking he was crazy or something.

Goddammit! Why…why…why!

He exhaled, wiped his face with his right palm, and dived into his neighborhood. The environment was calm since people were not back from work yet. It was a sterile street between magnificent bungalows and duplexes with towering trees around each building. He slowed down the car's pace and parked opposite a duplex, got out of the car, and walked to the first floor's door.

Strange fear struck him badly as he pushed the door open and his blue eyes flickered bewilderedly. He believed that bitch was waiting around somewhere. Pulling his gun from his suit's inner pocket, he gently shut the door and walked as quietly as he could while his heart was railing violently against his chest. He walked through the luxurious sitting room and wanted to climb the stairs when he caught a glimpse of reddish fluid on the glistening crystal dining table. Curious and nervous, with his flickering blue gaze fixed on the table, still pointing the gun in the air, he walked slowly to the table and was most terrified by what he saw.                          

It was a bloody writeup saying—Clayton, it's gonna be blood for blood and flesh for flesh. You can't run from me! You and all that concerns you…

***