/lit/ - Literature

(1/2)
I am first awakened by a knock on the door. All while hearing what seems to be a call between a relative and my father. Afternoon weather, grey sky, not much sunlight in my room. I stood up but I remained indifferent towards the commotion happening outside of my room, or maybe I pretend to do so. What seems to be a supposedly serene afternoon is disturbed by these knocks on my door, which—by now—has grown relatively louder than what I have heard when I first woke up. Each instance—as I have observed—is a set of three knocks before a short pause followed by another set of knocks. These knocks makes me anxious, hearing it from my bed brings me displeasure and makes me ask that whoever is behind these knocks has an ill-intent.
By now, I could've jumped from my window, escaping whatever is that that awaits me following these knocks, or I could just answer the door since they have been knocking for so long that it gives me an impression that it is something of urgency, something that needs me.
All of a sudden, a knock so strong that I've thought that it shook my whole room diverted my attention from my thoughts. Followed by a period of silence, my door is then kicked down. What guesswork I had done previously about the motives for these knocks are further narrowed down—they are out to get me.
Stood on my doorway are two burly men whose heads are leveled with the uppermost hinges of the doorframe. Both of them wearing shades, a cap, a chaleco, and both of them possess a neutral expression. "Are they here to sexually violate me?". Arms crossed, they broke their stance and proceeded to approach me. Both of them taking a hold of either one of my foot, then they quickly pulled me from my bed.
"Have I had any unpaid debts?" I asked myself. Then finally, seeing my aunt in front of the doorway, it has dawned upon me that all this was to make me pay for what I did last evening—melting the corningware lid