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109. Undertaker
LeemaSo, what happened to those people who shot blindly inside the dark boiler room? Did they die? *currently having a tea party with Lucifer*
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Till Time Do Us Part 110. Lifesaver
Gray Stewart turned to her side and stared at her phone this time instead of the ceiling. “The pendant, though,” she lethargically uttered. “It really did save me back then.” The thought brought her to a long sigh. “Undertaker almost had me when he shot my chest.” Before she knew it, her right hand was clutching on her chest where she could still feel the excruciating feeling of having a near-death experience. And once again, her head was back at that rotten factory. This was the time when failing her one chance at an escape due to Undertaker’s keen eyes, she was once again surrounded by the four. And unlike the previously unfair 4 to 1 fight, she was now armed. She pulled the knife that Undertaker planted on the wall and used it to defend herself. With her desperate actions to evade their attacks, they were now standing on the center aisle. On the other hand, Undertaker had brought one chair to the door and sat quietly, spectating the fight. When Gray took a quick glance at the doo
Till Time Do Us Part 111. Life and Death
Gray Stewart suddenly felt a shiver down her spine and found herself lying in a fetal position on her bed as she thought of her fight with Undertaker who was responsible for most of the injuries and bruises she got. And even as she dreaded remembering that event again, her rebel mind didn’t listen and did its own playback. This was the time after she made a declaration. She looked down on Fakey and Tentacle’s immobilized body. She took the two knives beside them then she slowly walked to the center aisle, right across the door where Undertaker stood. “Sir!” she called out to him. “How about a tasty one-on-one match?” She held one finger up over her face. “How about it?” She halted at the center of the aisle, right across Undertaker on the other side of the room. She stood at attention like a soldier and clasped both hands behind her with the knives. She was aiming to look as docile as possible. “Would you heed my request?” she slightly tilted her head. “Sir?” Truth be told, her legs
Till Time Do Us Part 112. Wok or Skillet
Gray Stewart woke up to the distant noise she could vaguely hear from her bedroom. It seemed she had fallen asleep once again. She grabbed her phone just right beside her. Her eyes found the time displayed on the lockscreen as it lit up. It was already noon. And just below the time was a new message notification from Sarah. When she opened it, the message read: ‘I noticed you left me on the read, did I say something that upset you? I’m so sorry’ Gray sat up from the bed. Her head dropped down to her shoulders as she stared silently at the phone. Her daily dose of intolerable headache soon visited her; however, her mind seemed to have ignored the pain as well as the back of her shirt drenched in sweat. She was though prompted to snap back to reality by the inaudible noise coming from outside her room. Upon changing her shirt to a black t-shirt, she went out of her bedroom with her phone tucked inside her sweat pant’s pocket. She headed to the living room and as she got closer, the
Till Time Do Us Part 113. Soap
As soon as Gray Stewart left the apartment, Azriel put the wok down on the counter and pulled a chair from the dining table and sat down. He reached for his phone that was on the table. On the other hand, the little girl was looking at him with confusion plastered on her face. “What are you doing?” she asked him. “I thought you’re cooking?” He shot her a quick glance, then brought his eyes back to the screen of his phone. Then he brought his phone up to his ear. After a few seconds of staring into space, he finally spoke. “Get me,” he said to his phone and then pulled it away his ear as he pressed the screen, perhaps to end the call. Witnessing this, she couldn’t help but sigh. “So, now that your beloved sister is out of the apartment, there’s no use in cooking something she’ll probably won’t eat, huh?” He scowled at her. “‘Beloved sister’?” He sneered. “What preposterous claim is that?” She grabbed the wok and put it back in the cabinet under the counter. “Then why are you sudde
Till Time Do Us Part 114. Spareribs
Zia Scott had been staring at the lit up slow cooker for over three hours, sitting on the high stool with her one cheek grown cold from sticking the side of her face on the countertop. “I’m…bored.” She sighed. “When is Gray coming home?” She lifted her face from the counter and hopped down the stool. Then, she dragged the stool right beneath where the slow cooker was. Using the stool as her ladder, she took a peek through the glass lid of the slow cooker. “Are you cooking well, my pork spareribs?” she said, salivating at the sight of the meat bathing in all kinds of condiments she put together—soy sauce, mustard, molasses, cider vinegar, Worcestershire sauce and hot pepper sauce. “Oh, right!” She climbed down the stool and approached the refrigerator. She then took out a couple of large potatoes from the crisper. She placed them on the countertop and grabbed her pink apron hung beside the refrigerator. Then she used the stool as her stand to elevate her enough so that her hips woul
Till Time Do Us Part 115. Jeffrey Williams
“Hey!” Jeffrey Williams called. He had deep blue eyes, thick dark brows, pomegranate lips and pinchable cheeks, and his black hair was neatly tended. Even as a child, anyone can tell he would grow up to be quite an attractive man. He was a little taller than Zia and by the way he speaks eloquently for a child, she guessed he’s about 6 or 7 years of age. Just a tad bit older than little Sophia’s supposed age for her appearance. He wore a maroon turtleneck and black slacks paired with black oxfords, and a gray plaid overcoat completed his fashion. And although his sharp style didn’t scream his wealth, his Paul Newman Rolex Daytona watch was practically a punch in the face. The price of his watch could easily buy a house and lot in the state. And for an author who researches random stuff over the internet, Zia knew this fact. “Hey!” Zia was pulled back to her senses with his shout. “I told you to identify yourself yet all you did was stand there tight-lipped with eyes that dare apprai
Till Time Do Us Part 116. Betrothal
“W-what did you just say?” asked a still bemused Zia Scott with her brows furrowed more deeply. “No,” corrected Jeffrey Williams. “You have no right to refuse. This is an order…” He pointed at her. “I command you to marry me.” She couldn't help but palm her face as she breathed deeply. “Do you even hear yourself?” His brows were slightly knitted followed by a sure expression. “Our family as well as my ancestors have no medical records of auditory impairment if that is what you’re asking.” She grunted, which made him add, “I can have my men collect the necessary data regarding my family background if that is what’s stopping you from agreeing to our betrothal.” She furtively glanced at him from behind her hand. He seemed serious. After composing herself, she took another wooden ladle from the base drawers. “Why did you suddenly get the urge to want to marry me?” She continued mixing the mashed potatoes in the mixing bowl. “That.” He pointed at the mixing bowl she was holding on he
Till Time Do Us Part 117. Trouble
“E-edward?” stammered Zia Scott when her eyes met with Edward’s bemused facial expression. His eyes swiveled in between the two kids in front of him, then he turned to Zia. “Is he your friend?” He approached them in the kitchen. “What happened to him? Why is he crying?” She fiddled with her thumbs as her lips would go back from closing themselves to parting again, contemplating on what right words to say so she wouldn’t look bad in front of her fiance—not that Edward knew it was Zia he was talking to and not Sophia. He turned to the little boy sobbing across from Zia. “Are you okay?” he said delicately. Instead of answering, Jeffrey merely glared at him then stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door hard behind him. Edward glanced at Zia, bewilderment flitting across his features. “Who was that boy?” “Uhh..” In order to avoid making contact with his eyes, Zia kept herself preoccupied with transferring the mashed potatoes in a serving bowl. “He came here looking for Azriel b
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