On Lotus Pond Part 3: An Angel with Dirty Face
Time for me to introduce the second main character in the story.
Second part of the Mixtape can be accessed here.
Again, the usual disclaimer: The following literary attempt is purely fictional. The names of the main characters happen to have real life counterparts in the form of very very gorgeous people. Any incident, character or anything that happened in the real life are purely coincidental. While I am somewhat obliged to say that I don’t own these real people, I am just informing anyone not to copy this story and make a buck out of it. Just read and try to enjoy if you please.
Carlos was making a beeline to where he parked his car. He looked behind him and it’s mostly out of habit. He turned to a corner and his stomach tightened when he heard voices. Jeering voices. Dear God, he thought.
He tried to walk faster but the voices seemed to be growing louder. Then he got to a dead end. He thought it’s his end when he heard that he’s not the one they are jeering to. Then he heard some sounds of pounding. They are beating up somebody. He heard somebody whimpering. Begging for mercy.
He pressed against the wall and peeped from a corner.
A group of men kicked and jeered at a crumpled figure lying on the ground. They took out something from it. A duffle bag of some sort. Some homeless beggar he supposes.
Then the men walked off.
Carlos cautiously came out of his hiding place. To his horror, he found that the only way out is to pass through the battered figure. Having no choice, he gathered his courage and cautiously made his way. In situations like these, he prefers walking off and not giving a damn on anything or anyone. But as he walked by, he saw the face. A boy. Perhaps 12 or 13 years of age. Face swollen from beatings with streaks of blood.
He stooped to inspect the boy’s pulse. Unconscious but still alive. There was a weather forecast of a cold snap later tonight and surely, this boy would freeze to death if Carlos would leave him there.
Carlos looked around then put his attention back to the boy.
Luckily, the boy was small and lightweight enough, enabling Carlos to carry and put him at the backseat of the car. Carlos looked around once more before climbing into his car and driving home.
Carlos pushed open the door of the spare room cautiously with his foot, making sure he did so with minimal noise just in case it might awaken his mother. He laid the boy down on the bed carefully before going out of the door. When he came back, he had a basin of warm water and flannel with him. With a wet flannel, he carefully began to wipe the blood on the boy’s face.
Carlos hesitated the moment he removed all traces of blood.
Lying on the bed is the boy with the most beautiful face ever seen slightly blemished with bruises from the beatings he got.
Carlos shook the thought off his head. What am I thinking? This is just a kid. I’m not that kind of pervert to fall for a kid.
He replaced the flannel back into the basin. Covered the boy well with warm duvet up to the chin and then left the room.
The following morning,
The boy groaned before slowly opening one eye. Morning light partly blinded him. His face hurt but at least he felt warm.
Warm? The boy thought and felt the soft, thick duvet covering him. He sat up slowly and looked around a bit. There was a figure sitting beside the bed. His image was a little blurred but the boy squinted a bit more until the image became clear.
“W-where am I?” the boy asked.
“You’re safe now, fella. What’s your name?”
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