Page 99 of His Untoward Hate

The man groggily complained, his tongue stumbling over every word. Jasper’s pulse thundered in his ears. His chest tightened so much he nearly forgot how to breathe.

“Fuck!”

The man cursed again as he staggered across the marble floor. Each uneven step seemed to draw closer to the bed where Jasper lay hidden.

Please, not here. Jasper prayed mentally.

“Fuuuuck thisss fuucking bullshit,” the man slurred, his voice coated with alcohol.

Hidden beneath the blanket, Jasper fought to keep his panic under control. Fear gripped him so tightly that he suppressed his breathing, afraid that even the smallest sound would betray his presence. Every muscle in his body remained rigid. He did not dare move an inch.

“I’m f-fucking strrrooong. Nooo one caaan beeeat the hell out ooof meee,” the man rambled drunkenly, his words twisting together. “I-I’m not druuunk…”

Yet the more Jasper listened, the more convinced he became that he had heard that voice before.

“Ayye…aym a d-doctor. I’m a fuuckinnng doctor. The first aid kit is supposed t—”

A loud crash suddenly erupted, and glass shattered somewhere in the room. Jasper nearly jumped out of bed. His heart skipped a beat. Before he could process what had happened, a heavy thud followed, as if someone had lost their balance and fallen to the floor.

“Ahh, fuck!” the man groaned. “God damn it!”

Jasper pressed his hands tighter against his mouth, desperately suppressing any sound. His heart pounded so violently that he feared it might burst from his chest.

He did not know what to do.

But one thing was certain.

The man was hurt.

Gradually, the noises died away, leaving the room engulfed in silence once more. But Jasper remained frozen beneath the blanket. Then the silence went by for ten minutes or so. By then, sweat was pouring from Jasper’s body. His clothes were pasted to his skin, and the mattress beneath him had become damp from perspiration. Yet he still did not dare to move, waiting for any sign that the danger had truly passed.

When Jasper felt like everything was under control, he slowly peeled the blanket just under his eyes and peeked cautiously at the surroundings. Once everything was clear, he slowly uncovered his face wholly. He felt like his heart wanted to jump out of his mouth when he saw a body lying on the floor. He covered his mouth with his hands and stared at the body for a couple of minutes, kicking the side of his body for any sign of life. The man on the floor did not move, and he seemed to have already fallen asleep. Jasper could not get a clear look at the man’s face. It was turned toward the side of the mini table, and the shadow it cast concealed much of his upper body.

Jasper walked scrupulously to the far edge and located the switch so he could see who he was or if he was really fine. Jasper made sure to keep a safe distance from the man. The guy could be pretending to be unconscious, or worse, suddenly lunge at him the moment he got too close. To be on the safe side, Jasper grabbed the angled broom leaning against the wall, holding it as a weapon in case the stranger tried anything.

Jasper had a strong suspicion that the man might be Miss Zita’s son, considering what she had told him the other day about her son occasionally sleeping in this room. Then again, it could just as easily be her husband. After all, Jasper remembered locking the door before going to bed. The only people who should have been able to enter were those with keys. Well, unless a thief had decided to break in.

Right. It had to be Miss Zita’s son.

But wait. The man had mentioned being a doctor before passing out.

Jasper recalled that Miss Zita’s son was still studying medicine and was yet to become a doctor. That meant the man was more likely to be her husband, who was already a licensed physician. It certainly could not be Miss Norma, either. The voice was prominently male.

Nevertheless, Jasper could not shake off his concern.

The man had obviously been drunk. Judging from the groans, curses, and the painful sounds he had made before and after falling, he was definitely injured. Not to mention the sound of broken medicine containers he heard crushed a while ago. The man might have stepped on them.

Reluctantly, he slipped out and reached for the light switch. The moment the room lit up, everything he thought he knew came crashing down.

epilogue

It was a calm, sweltering Sunday afternoon, around two golden hours. Jude was feeling thrilled in the middle of reading a classic novel from one of his favorite authors. Sweat dripped furiously down the side of his forehead. He was so engrossed in the book he was reading that he did not mind the lack of ventilation in the room. He only stopped when he realized there were already drops of transparent liquid falling onto the book, dampening the line he was currently setting his eyes on. After wiping the sweat from his face with the shirt he was wearing, he walked to the window and threw it wide open, letting the afternoon breeze flow freely into his room.

As he was enjoying the stroke of air into his frame, he was suddenly taken aback when he caught a glimpse of the old mahogany tree in the distance—standing beneath it was a man who looked like Sky, facing him directly with a handheld telescope. Jude was sure it was Sky. He knew Sky’s build and frame very well. Jude’s breath caught in his throat, shock and confusion washing over him. Sky was the last person he expected to see there. Blinking hard, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed. But when he opened them again, the figure had vanished.

The man was nowhere to be seen.

Jude thought he was just being overtaken by the novel he was reading, which was why he was seeing things he was not supposed to see.