Filed to story: Turn The Mafia’s Virgin Wife On
“Wait miss!” the old man called out to me as I turned to leave.
“What is it? Do you need help with something?” I asked.
“Do you…happen to know someone called Jack Witman?” the old man asked, his eyes narrowing at me.
Umm…I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone with that name before.
“Sorry, sir. I haven’t heard of that name before. Sorry, I couldn’t be of help here,” I replied truthfully as I smiled sadly at him.
“Hmm…I see,” the old man replied softly.
“Are you looking for that man? Does he live in this town?” I asked in case I could help.
“Yes. He’s…an old friend of mine. We had a couple of fights when we were younger and I haven’t seen him for many years but now that I’m getting old, you know…I kinda want to see him…” he said a little sadly.
“This is a small town but…I’ve never heard of him. I’m so sorry…” I replied regretfully.
“Oh…nevermind. That’s ok,” the man said with a small smile.
“Well then, I have a place I have to be. So…have a good day, Sir! I hope you find your friend!” I said as cheerfully as I could.
I said before bowing respectfully to him and running off towards the supermarket. I definitely won’t make it on time but if I hurried, I was sure that I could still get some promotional items that granny wanted.
“See you again soon, little miss,” the old man muttered to himself as he watched the young woman run further and further away from him until she disappeared in the crowd.
…
I trudged along the sidewalk with bags full of groceries in both hands. These are the result of my effort in grabbing items on sale. Although I arrived a little late, luckily, I was able to buy most of the items on grandma’s grocery shopping list. She should be please with my achievement.
However, I did not imagine that it would be so heavy. I guess if I set some money aside and start saving up, I could purchase a bicycle or a small trolley of some kind that I could use to transport these heavy bags of groceries. It’s just a thought for now though, we didn’t have that kind of money to spare, unfortunately.
I wasn’t born into a poor family. I lived the first sixteen years of my life as part of an average-income family with an average standard of living. We had a house; a car and I went to a private school where I had many good friends. My parents owned their own company, and everything was normal and fine until that fateful day.
Around six years ago, my parents died in a car accident when a transport truck crashed into their car. The investigations later revealed that the truck driver was drunk from a party he had attended the previous night and had a hangover when he came to work in the morning. Regardless of the reason, I lost both my parents on that day.
The accident was featured in the news with clear photographs of their whole car burning up in flames before it exploded. A few other people who were at the scene were hurt. The truck driver was seriously injured but survived the crash.
My parents always drove me to school in the morning before they went to work. It was just wild luck that I wasn’t in the car with them on the day of the accident. Since I had a sleepover party at one of my girl friend’s house the night before, I was on my way to school with her when the accident occurred. I always thought back to that twist of fate.
If I didn’t join the sleepover back then, I would have probably died along with my parents in the crash.
Who knows…perhaps that would have been the better option?
My life changed drastically after the passing of my parents. For one, I learnt that not everyone who seemed to mean well actually meant well. Right after the funeral for my parents, I found out that their so-called business partner had taken over the company and that there was nothing left of it to be passed down to me. Basically, I was somehow scammed out of my stake in my parent’s business.
Everything that they have built all went to waste over a night.
Matters went from bad to worse when I was told that my parents had debts with the banks, and they demanded to take away the collateral: our house. After settling the debt and all was said and done, I had lost the house, the car and almost all of my parent’s life savings. I walked away from the whole thing with less than three hundred dollars to my name.
Obviously, since I didn’t have any money and had no way to earn any either, I had to quit school. I didn’t have a place to live anymore, so I had to move in with my only surviving relative: my grandmother. With just one small luggage of clothes and necessities, I took a train to a nameless town in the countryside where my grandmother was living.
By the time that I left the capital city, I was already prepared for the worst. When I first stood in front of the address that was supposed to be where my grandmother lived, the reality wasn’t too far from my expectation. My grandmother, as I was told, ran a small confectionary and cake shop in a very small town. The description was spot on.
‘Sweet Time’ was the name on the faded white and pink sign of the small shop owned by my grandmother. It was clear that the sign had faded from white and red to its current state of pink. The shop was located on the first floor and our living quarters were on the second floor.
Life with my grandmother was like a return to the basic of everything. We were poor but happy. Our house and shop were small, but it was enough for two small girls like us. I went to a local public high school to continue my education and was granted a scholarship to further help with my expenses.
I did everything that I could to support my grandmother just so that we could survive and keep the shop afloat.
That meant that I worked every single hour of the day that I was free. I rarely went out with friends because I had to work at the store. I focused on my study so that I would get a scholarship to university. It went without saying that we didn’t have enough money to send me to university.
Life was tough but it was simple enough. Throughout it all, my grandmother was always there for me. Not once did she complain even as she got older and that meant that I didn’t have any valid reason to complain either. At the end of my highschool life, I got a full scholarship to study arts and design at a nearby university.
That meant that I had to move out and live at the university dorm, but I still made sure to travel the short distance home to visit my grandmother and help out at the store.
It was during my freshmen year at university that I met my first and only boyfriend. Life was all well and good until…those men turned up.
One day, when I arrived at the store from one of my grocery shopping trip, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. The whole neighborhood was quiet, too quiet. It was like no one was living or breathing there at all. No one walked the street, no car passed by and there were just no signs of life.
My heart skipped a beat as my eyes focused on a large black limousine that was parked in front of my home. I have never seen a limousine in real life before, only in the movies. It was obvious that in this small and poor town where few people owned cars, no one owned a flashy black limousine.
What I couldn’t wrap my headd around, as the shock of all this took over, was why was there a limousine parked right outside my house?
Once my body had recovered from its initial shock, I found myself dropping the grocery bag out front and running as fast as I could towards the store. The sight of smashed windows, broken signs and flowerpots tipped over spilling black soil everywhere stunned me to the core as I gasped in shock.
What happened here while I was gone?
The next thought that entered my head was…grandma! Where is she? Is she ok?
“Grandma!!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.
I ran through the ajar door into the store. The inside of the store was also a mess just like the outside. Everything that could practically be destroyed was destroyed and there, kneeling on hands and knees in the middle of the floor, was my poor grandmother.