My Past Life-Part 17.
The air was thick with hunger, and neither of us wanted to stop.
But then—footsteps.
The sound of shoes clicking against the hallway floor snapped us out of our trance. Jolie let out a frustrated sigh.
"Ugh… it must be the security officers," she whispered, her voice laced with annoyance.
I nodded, my heart pounding. "Yeah, tell me about it. School's been over for hours—this is their usual patrol time. Quick, hide behind the door!"
Without wasting another second, we scrambled to grab our scattered clothes and ducked behind the heavy wooden door. Our bodies pressed tightly against the wall, trying to stay as silent as possible.
Creak.
The door was pushed open with force.
A beam of light from the hallway spilled into the dark room as one of the officers stepped inside.
"Hmmm…" the first officer muttered, his voice deep and suspicious.
"What is it now, Dave?" the second officer asked, sounding bored.
"Didn't you hear voices just now? I'm certain I heard something," Dave insisted, scanning the room with narrowed eyes.
The second officer chuckled. "Man, I think you must've had too much to drink at that party earlier. I didn't hear anything. Besides, this place has been abandoned and forgotten even before we started working here six years ago."
Dave hesitated, then sighed. "I guess I must be hearing things then. Sorry about that. Let's go."
"Yeah," the other officer agreed.
With that, the door was gently closed, and their footsteps faded down the hallway.
Jolie let out a shaky breath and rushed out from behind the door, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Damn… that was close. I really thought they were going to catch us."
I smirked, trying to play it cool despite my racing heart. "Yeah, me too. But if they had caught us, we could've easily taken them down."
Jolie raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Hmmm… maybe." Then, without warning, she reached for me again. "Now… where were we?"
Her fingers tangled in my hair as she pulled me back into her embrace. Our lips crashed together once more, and all thoughts of the officers vanished as we crossed boundaries we had no intention of stopping.
Back Home…
The evening was quiet when I finally made it back to the house. The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement as I walked up to the front door.
Knock, knock, knock…
Knock, knock, knock…
From inside, I heard Prosper's voice. "Yes, hold on—I'm coming!"
A few seconds later, the sound of locks clicking open filled the air before the door swung open.
"Hey, sister. How are you?" I greeted her, trying to sound casual.
Prosper didn't smile. Instead, she looked at me with a mix of longing and frustration. "Not fine, Senior. I missed your touch."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Ahhh, come on… we've talked about this."
She crossed her arms, defiance flashing in her eyes. "I don't care. I want your touch today." Then, as if remembering something, she added, "Oh, and Dad is waiting for you in the living room."
Before I could respond, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.
"Hey, Prosper—" I called after her in a low voice, but she didn't stop.
I clenched my fists, muttering under my breath, "Shit."
"Peter, don't keep me waiting. Living room. Now."
My father's voice was firm, cutting through the silence like a sharp knife. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.
"Yes, Dad," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
I took a deep breath and walked toward the living room, each step feeling heavier than the last. The air was filled with tension, and I could already feel my heart pounding in my chest.
When I entered, my father was standing near the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, but I knew that look—it was the one he wore when he was disappointed.
"Good afternoon, Dad," I said quietly, keeping my voice low.
He sighed and shook his head. "Peter, it's actually evening now. Would you mind telling me why you missed the school bus? Why you missed your classes? Where were you? And why are you coming back at this time? It's 6 PM."
His words were calm, but each one felt like a weight pressing down on me. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the right words.
"Dad, I missed the bus because I was still writing my exams. Remember? I missed them last week because I was suspended. But I didn't miss any classes today."
My father exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples as if trying to push away a headache. "Sit down, Peter."
"Okay, Dad," I said, lowering myself onto the couch slowly, as if afraid it might break under me.
For a moment, there was silence. Then my father spoke again, his voice softer than I expected.
"Peter, normally, I would beat you very well and then shout at you for lying to my face. But instead of doing that, I will leave you with this piece of advice."
I blinked in surprise. No beating? No yelling? A small wave of relief washed over me.
Thank You, God, I thought silently. No beating and yelling today.
My father's voice brought me back to the moment. "Take God seriously, boy. Be smart and wise. Don't play with your education. Don't play with your family. And don't play with your future. Always remember—you are the son of a priest. Okay?"
I didn't trust myself to speak, so I simply nodded, my eyes fixed on the floor.
"Good," my father said, standing up.
He turned to leave, but just as he reached the doorway, he paused and looked back.
"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Take your phone. You have a message on it."
I hesitated. "I can have it back?"
My father sighed again, but this time, there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "Yes, you can. Take it."
I stood up and reached for the phone, my fingers brushing against his as I took it. The moment I had it in my hand, he turned and walked away without another word.
The second he was gone, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
Brum, brum, brum.
The sudden vibration of my phone startled me. I looked down at the screen—an unknown number.
Fuck.
My stomach twisted. God, please let this be good news.
I hesitated for a second before answering, pressing the phone to my ear but staying silent, waiting to hear the voice on the other end first.
"Hello, Peter," a familiar, mocking voice said. "Seems you've gotten close to another girl aside from Sarah."
My blood ran cold.
"Joe?" My voice was sharp, laced with anger. "How the hell did you get my number?"
Joe laughed, the sound grating against my ears. "Come on now, I just asked around, and someone gave it to me."
My grip on the phone tightened. "I'm not talking to you. We have a lot to settle, and believe me—I'm gonna break you soon. You're going to regret ever touching Sarah."
Another laugh. "I wouldn't lie, Peter. She was sweet. Now I see why you love her so much."
Rage burned through me like wildfire. "JOEEEEE!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the empty room.
Joe's tone turned serious. "Relax, Peter. Meet me tomorrow in the school halls after school. We'll end everything there—once and for all."
My jaw clenched. "I pray you survive my rage, hatred, and anger, Joe."
There was a pause. Then, in a voice just as cold as mine, Joe replied, "And I pray you survive my internal pain, hate, and anger."
Without another word, I ended the call.
The silence that followed was deafening.
To be continued...