Chapter 7: The Harsh Truth

SAMANTHA

February 25, 2021

Thursday, 5:16 p.m. 

Case #64721.291.1 

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTION OF POLICE INTERVIEW

INVESTIGATOR: Good afternoon, Ms. Samantha Velarde. I’m so sorry for bothering you, I hope you’re feeling okay now. I know it’s getting late in the afternoon that’s why I need you to cooperate with me, and answer my questions as honest as you can so we can both get out of this room early. Are we okay with that?

SAMANTHA: Yes. 

INVESTIGATOR: Good. For the record, I am Detective Noel Hummingbird with the Jordan Police Department, and I am here to handle the murder case of the late principal, Principal Josefa Magada. Today is 25th of February, Thursday, 5:16 in the afternoon. This video is being recorded. 

SAMANTHA: Just start already.

 

INVESTIGATOR: Okay... Ms. Velarde, according to Mr. Tan, you passed out after telling him something. Can you still remember what are those words you told to him? 

SAMANTHA: I can’t remember the exact words I used, but what I told him was I saw the principal in the old building, dead. 

INVESTIGATOR: And around what time was that?

SAMANTHA: The what?

INVESTIGATOR: When you saw Mr. Tan before you collapsed. What time was that? 

SAMANTHA: Around three o’clock. 3:15 to 3:30. Somewhere between that. 

INVESTIGATOR: How about when you saw her dead? Could you still recall the time?

SAMANTHA: Yes. As a matter of fact, I could still recall everything. I wish I could forget them, though. 

INVESTIGATOR: When did you see Principal Magada’s dead body? 

SAMANTHA: Before three. The last time I saw the clock on my phone was before its battery got drained. It’s 2:58. I’m sure with that. 

INVESTIGATOR: And what was her situation when you saw her?

SAMANTHA: Terrible. She’s got a pool of blood around her, and an old, rusty butcher knife was stabbed in her leg. Her eyes were also opened when I saw her. 

INVESTIGATOR: Okay... You also said that you heard a shout when you were on your way back, right?

SAMANTHA: Ah-huh. I did. 

INVESTIGATOR: What were you doing there? 

SAMANTHA: Looking for her, of course! A teacher had asked me to find the principal because the meeting was about to start. 

INVESTIGATOR: How did you know you’ll find her there?

SAMANTHA: I didn’t know she was there, okay? I just kept walking and walking until I reached the mini forest without knowing.

INVESTIGATOR: Ok, right. But you don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you? I mean, you go to the forest alone, you hear a shout of help, you follow the voice, and then the next thing you’ll know is someone is dead. Isn’t it a little off? 

SAMANTHA: Oh, my God! Are you suspecting me? Are you trying to say that I’m just faking a story to hide the fact that I killed the principal?

 

INVESTIGATOR: No, Ms. Velarde. I’m just ask—

SAMANTHA: You know what, I’m tired. I want to go home, eat a good dinner, and get myself a good sleep. The least thing I want right now is to talk about this murder, because you don’t have any idea what it’s like to witness such a gruesome scene. Okay? Now thank you for having me, I appreciate this investigation, and I hope you catch whoever killed her. Good evening and good bye! 

                                        • • • 

I breathed out a heavy blow at the same time when I slammed the door close. I stomped my feet away from the infirmary and went straight to the washing area where Cylvia was waiting for me. 

“Hey, hey! What’s with that face?” she said as we met halfway. “How did the interrogation go?”

I handed my red bag from her, and pulled it up to my right shoulder. I  brushed a hand over my skirt to fix the creases. “It’s offensive,” I said, “And such a waste of time.”

Cylvia thought for a second what to reply. “What happened? Tell me.”

“He doesn’t seem to believe me! The way he asks me a question feels like I am being interviewed as a suspect and not as a witness.” I turned towards Cylvia. “Tell me honestly, do I look like a killer? Could you picture me out holding a big and rusty butcher knife while chopping the principal’s leg with a smile on my face?”

 

“What? No, no!” 

“Then how could he?” I asked, though the way I said that sounded more of an argument rather than a question. “I know I may have some low-key lunatic vibes, but hell no! I would never do that!”

It took Cylvia three swallows before she finally had the gut to speak. “Well, he’s a detective. He needs to be neutral and holistic, and that includes treating witnesses as suspects until they’re proven otherwise,” she answered in a calm monotone. “That’s one of the purposes of interrogation after all. “

“But I was just telling him what I saw! Isn’t my words enough to justify my innocence?” I opened my bag, snagged my car’s key from the smallest pocket, and left it close. “And oh! Can’t he understand the trauma I’m having right now because of what I saw? I can still see everything vividly even up to now!”

Cylvia looked away, sucked her upper lip, and blinked her eyes slowly; her non-verbal way of saying ‘Listen, I have something to tell you that might hurt your ego.’ She also slowed down her walk, perhaps to establish a six feet distance between us. “I understand you, Samantha. I really do. But hey, you were alone there! Of course, the first thing that  everyone would think is you killed her, and you only composed a cover story to hide what you did. But, whatever! Screw them. What’s important right now is you are honest, you are innocent, and you only did the right thing to do.”

This is what I hate about friendships. It’s always one sided. Unequal. Unbalanced. For a moment, I was there when she needed someone to lean on. But now, when the tables have turned, when it’s now me who needs someone to believe in me, she’s not even sure. Just like the detective, she doubts me too. 

Why are they so skeptical of me? I don’t even have a motive to kill Mrs. Magada in the first place! I barely even see her. We haven’t even exchange words since the year she transferred here. 

I unlocked the door of my car, and entered inside silently. Cylvia sat in the backseat without saying anything either. We stayed still; Listened to each other’s breathing. Eavesdropped to each other’s heartbeat.  At that point in time, we had forgotten that we were together—in the car—and that we were friends. None of us could tell how long have we’ve been inside. Maybe it only lasted for a minute. Perhaps an hour. Or two. Who knows? We really lose track of time when we are emotional, right? 

My hands were like a couple of snakes tarrying over the leathered steering wheel. It felt so good when my fingers lingered on it. They enjoyed the snappy sensation of the AC. Like children enjoying the first snow of winter, the feeling was mutual to my slender fingers. 

And then a voice broke the silence.

 

“When are we moving?” 

The storm forming over my head vanished miraculously, as if an angel came down to blew it away. At first, I was angry. I was mad. I was upset. But just like the silence, it didn’t last long.

 I took a quick breather. “Now. We’re moving now,” I answered. I had always forgotten what it’s like to feel hurt every time I’m around Cylvia. If pain reliever was a person, it would surely be her. 

“You know you can skip school tomorrow if you want, right? I mean, it’s Friday. Other than that, I’m pretty sure the teachers will not be on the mood to teach us as well.” From the rear-view mirror, I saw Samantha sailed a smile. Although she was looking outside the window, I still felt the genuineness in her words. “Grieving usually takes days. Tomorrow’s only their first. I reckon they will gather in the office with flowers and prayers, and talk about the principal the whole day.” 

“I’m okay. I’m good.” 

“No, Samantha. I know what it feels like to be emotionally tired. And seriously, you don’t deserve this. A precious, fragile, and sensitive little bean like you don’t deserve any of this. You’re getting a rest.”

“I’m only taking a day off if you’re going with me.” Exactly. If there’s any way I’d spend a rest, I’d definitely do it with her. What was the real definition of rest, by the way? Because for me, it’s talking to a friend. Talking to Cylvia. 

“Consider me going.” She winked. “I’m planning to visit my Mom’s grave tomorrow after class. But since we’re getting absent anyway, I’ll just visit her in the morning with you, and we can squander the rest of the day right after.”

I smiled, my third so far for this day. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.” 

“It’s been a while since we last hang out together, so—yeah! Let’s make tomorrow special!”

Just like that, we hit the rest of the roads with optimism. We played Taylor Swift soundtrack on the speaker, and we sang along with the song while driving past the other cars on a six p.m. traffic.  We let slip from memory the misunderstanding that happened earlier, and dumped the emotions that almost devoured us whole. Within the remaining twelve minutes of the drive, we learned how to alter sadness with happiness; frustration with contentment; a frown with a smile. Within the remaining twelve minutes of the drive, we paid no attention to the world.  We thought, ‘As long as we’re friends, nothing else will matter.

Our concert in the car was forced to stop when we arrived at Samantha’s flat around seven in the evening. I dropped her after exchanging tight hugs and sincere goodbyes, and continued to pound the highways alone. I tried to ask her for a dinner on our favorite pizza place nearby but she refused. She said she wanted to cook chicken curry to celebrate the first death anniversary of her Mom, and fritter away the remaining hours remembering their happy memories, and reminiscing what it’s like to be loved a mother. She said that she’ll be okay, and that I’ll just go straight home, give myself a rest, and not be worried about her. 

I reached home by exactly eight o’clock. 

My twin brother’s car was already in the garage, so I assumed he’s home already. He must have told Mom and Dad about what happened, so I had the reason to become nervous. By the pool, I tried to ease myself, and thought of the words to use in explaining to them what happened. When I figured I was  ready, I walked across the patio and knocked thrice at the door. Nobody answered, so I just pushed it open and entered inside. 

“Mom? Dad? I’m home!” I said, looking at all corners of the house but still didn’t see anyone. 

I headed straight to the kitchen where Mom should supposedly be preparing dinner. But she wasn’t there. There was no foods on the table. There was no dishes in the sink. There’s nothing inside the oven, either. I exited the kitchen, stopped by the kitchen door, and thought of the burgeoning doubts in my head. Where did she go?” 

Until I saw Dad’s office—opened. It was perpendicular to the pantry room, both of which were visible from where I was standing. I walked towards it, knocked at the partly opened door, but when he didn’t answer, I just proceeded inside. There, papers scattered all over the table. His laptop was left operating, while on it’s right was his warm coffee. His swivel chair was down to the tiled floor, which is very unusual because Dad was the tidiest person I’ve ever known. There’s no way he could’ve been this messy—especially not in his own workplace. 

I went back to the living room. The cover of one of the sanguine couches—the one in the center facing the television—was in total disarray. I wondered why. I advanced upstairs to consult Vhynz. He should be in his room by now. 

I knocked at his door. “Hey, Vhynz! Are you there?” 

Without a second or two, the door creaked open. 

He closed the door before I could even get in. “Why are you late? It’s already eight in the evening, Samantha!” he said, his voice louder than usual. He was on his all-time favorite turquoise pajamas, and a fluffy bunny slippers he bought three days ago. 

I walked with him downstairs. “It’s, uh, the interrogation thing. In connection to the investigation of the crime scene, I was held by the detective for a short interview, and it didn’t turn out well so let’s just not talk about it.” I faked a smile when twin brother looked at me. “Where’s Mom and Dad? They don’t have work, do they?” 

“They don’t.” He looked away. “But that’s something we have to talk about over donuts and a cup of coffee.”

When we clocked in at the dining area, Vhynz moved a chair out of the table for me. He let me sat down, as he volunteered to brew us our beverage. 

“Make the coffee creamy, okay?” I demanded, though it was intended only for fun. Vhynz was always lazy, so moments like this should be treated as a rare event because, who knows this was his first and last? He never made me something before, and to be honest, I’m doubting if he’s really the Vhynz I knew. The one brewing the coffee right now could be his doppelganger. 

After some time, twin brother entered the dining room with a box of donuts on his right hand, and a black gooseneck coffee pot on his left. He placed them down the table, and went back into the kitchen to get us our coffee cups. 

“I’m not sure if you will like the coffee, but if you don’t, just pretend like you do,” he said, po-faced, when he got back. 

“I already adjusted my expectation for that.” I grinned as I poured some in my cup. “Anyway, what kind of magic spell was struck into you? Why a sudden change?” I kidded, though the tone was pretty serious. 

Vhynz rolled his eyes. He picked one donut out of the box and took a bite from it. With his mouth half-filled, he said, “I’ll tell you this straight from the shoulder.” He crammed down the donut, and sipped from his cup. “Mom and Dad aren’t not home.”

I looked at him for a while, made fun of his serious face in my mind, and laughed hardly I almost spilled my coffee. “What are you talking about? Of course, I can see that. But where are they?” 

“They’re gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” In a span of a minute, my mood suddenly changed. 

Vhynz had trouble keeping up with his words. “They have—they, uh, they sailed to the island.” 

“Wha—what? When?” 

“This afternoon, when I was in the Research Lab. I think you were already in the infirmary around that time,” he explained, staring at the box of donuts as if they weren’t his favorite anymore. “The call was sudden, though. Mom rang me out of the blue, told me they are going, and that it’s urgent because they received no reports and updates from the island a couple of days already. There’s been no word from the slaughter house as well, so they’re going to check if there’s something wrong.”

“But do you think there’s really something wrong?” My eyes were like a couple of clouds doing the process of condensation. Not long from now, waters will surely rain down. 

Vhynz stared at his own reflection from the coffee. “I hope there’s none, but I’m sure there is.” 

“Vhynz!” I exclaimed, yet it remained as pointless as it was because Vhynz held my hand to calm me down. He knew that news like this would make me panic. 

“Listen, we have to accept it. They already left us the money in the safe. They also told me where they hid their credit cards in case we get short. Just that, alone, already indicates that something’s wrong. Let’s just be ready, twin sister. Let’s just be ready. The earlier we accept the truth, the lesser the pain we will feel when the time comes.”

I shed a tear. And then they were two. And then the next thing I knew, they were all over my cheeks already. Like a falls fed with water after a heavy rain. 

I covered my face with both of my hands. I wondered. I thought. I imagined. Fuck. I cant. 

“We have to go there, Vhynz! We have to make sure that Mom and Dad are okay!”  I pleaded. At this point of our conversion, it’s now only a matter of who can hold back more tears. I lost, and the competition haven’t even started yet. 

Vhynz looked up to the ceiling. He stuck his sight to the yellow light of the chandelier, as if it would save him from casting out his emotion juice. He only proved himself wrong. “We will go there, yes. But just like what Mom had said, now is not the right time."