Chapter 4 What the hell was that?

“Could you please pretend to be listening to me?” Camellia snapped at the officer, who looked like he'd rather have his eyes pinned on his computer screen than even glance at her.

She rushed down here very early in the morning to tell him what she found in her house last night. The note and the wads of dollar bills.

“I’m listening to you, but I'm working too. I can't abandon my work to listen to some fantasy story of yours.”

“What?” Camellia couldn't believe her ears. “I'm telling you that a note was found in my apartment. And there were wads of dollar bills. I couldn't bring them so that I wouldn't get robbed on the way. But I took a picture of them. Here.”

Camellia handed him her phone, but he wouldn't even look at it. He was looking at her with exasperation. And what seemed like pity.

“Could you not do this anymore?” The officer asked, like he was struggling to stay calm. “You're really not gonna get anywhere with this. You're only stressing yourself out, and you're putting me in the worst spot.”

“How am I putting you in the worst spot? What did I do? Just because I'm asking you to do your goddamn job and investigate my father's death? Just because I'm asking you to investigate the creep that left a note and wads of dollar bills in my apartment? How the hell am I putting you in the worst spot?!”

Camellia didn't mean to yell. But she couldn't take it anymore. Everything was getting too frustrating. She needed to let it out somehow.

“By coming here, dammit!” The officer snapped, slamming a hand on the desk. But then his anger vanished immediately. He took a deep breath. “I'm begging you, please. Don't come here anymore. You're gonna make my life hellish. I'm begging you, Miss. I'm sorry for raising my voice.”

Camellia was as confused as hell. What did he mean by that? His words made no sense. But he looked really frightened and anxious. So she could tell he wasn't just doing that to scare her away.

Eventually, she left. She had to. There was no hope for her here. It was really best for her never to return to the police station. They were hell-bent on not investigating her father's case. Or the creep that was in her apartment last night. She really was all alone. She'll have to figure it all out alone.

But how? Where would she start? She has no idea about the things her father did when he was alive. The people he hung out with. The kind of lifestyle he led. Right. All she knew was that he worked for Big T Industries.

But that's not gonna help. It's such a big company. She could bet her father was unknown there. So asking for help from them or inquiring if they knew about her father's whereabouts would be useless. They might not even pay attention to her. After all, she's just an ordinary town girl.

Three days later, Camellia still hadn't touched a single dollar from the package.

Not because she didn't need the money. She did. More than she could admit.

But something about the whole thing made her uncomfortable.

The money. The letter. Cupcake.

She had spent the last three days going over everything that had happened since her father's death, trying to find an explanation, but none of it made sense.

And she had to come to terms with the fact that these unanswered questions weren't making reality any better. She still had a life to live. And her part-time job.

She stood behind the counter of the clothing store where she worked, staring blankly at a pile of folded shirts.

“Camellia?”

She blinked. Her colleague, Maria, was standing directly in front of her.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

Camellia forced a smile. “I'm fine.”

“You’ve been staring at that shirt for almost five minutes."

Camellia looked down. She was still holding the same shirt she'd been folding.

“Oh.”

She quickly folded it and placed it on the shelf.

Maria watched her carefully.

"You've been zoning out a lot lately. Are you alright?”

Camellia laughed weakly. "Maybe I'm just tired.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

Maria folded her arms. “You forgot to give a customer her already packed dress yesterday.”

Camellia's smile disappeared.

“And this morning, you put a size eight dress in the size twelve section.”

“I'll fix it.”

“And you almost gave a customer the wrong…”

“I said I'll fix it.”

There was a little silence.

Maria’s expression softened as she spoke up again.

“I just think something is wrong. It’s fine if you don’t want to share now, but whenever you’re ready, I’m willing to listen.” Then she walked away.

Camellia tried focusing on her work. But by midday, she had made three more mistakes.

“Camellia, the boss wants you in his office.” One of her colleagues came to get her.

Camellia hesitated before heading to the boss’s office. She knocked.

“Sir, it's Camellia.”

“Sure. Come right in.”

Camellia opened the door and walked in. The manager had his eyes on her until she stood in the middle of the small office.

“Camellia, have a seat.”

She sat down slowly. He sighed.

“I wanted to speak to you about something.”

Camellia swallowed. “I'm listening, sir.”

“I've noticed that you've not been yourself lately.”

She stared at him. “Sir?”

“You're making mistakes you normally wouldn't make. You're distracted, Camellia, and honestly, you look exhausted.”

Camellia lowered her eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize.”

“I'll do better.”

He shook his head. “That's not what I'm saying.”

She looked up.

“I think you need some time away from here.”

Her heart sank. “Please, Sir. I really need this job.”

“I know."

“I promise I'll be more careful.”

“I believe you.”

“Then please don't fire me.”

He sighed again. “I'm not doing this because I think you're a bad employee.”

“Then why?”

“Because you're going through something. Whatever it is, you need to deal with it.”

Camellia's eyes stung. “I can handle it.”

“Maybe you can. But right now, you're not.”

She looked down at her hands. They were trembling so much. She hated that he was right. She hated how painfully speechless she was right now.

“I'll send your salary tonight, and I really hope you get the rest that you need.”

Camellia nodded slowly.

She didn't trust herself to speak without bursting into tears.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

That was all it took. A tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away.

“I understand. Thank you.”

She stood up and walked out.

Maria immediately rushed to her when she came out of the boss’s office.

“What happened? What did he say?”

Camellia grabbed her bag. “Nothing.”

Maria had a confused look on her face.

Camellia couldn't help but flash her a sad smile. “Take care of yourself, Maria.”

Then she walked out before she could start crying in front of everyone.

Outside, the scorching sun hit her skin immediately.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the road.

She had lost her father. Now she'd lost her job.

What else was left?

She started walking home. Her feet felt heavier with every step. As she walked, she couldn't help but think about the note she found in her apartment.

Maybe the sender was right. Maybe she should take the money and leave. She could start over somewhere else. Somewhere no one would recognize her as the daughter of the man who committed suicide.

Somewhere no one would be whispering about her father's death.

But then what?

Would she really be able to sleep peacefully knowing she had walked away from her father's death? Knowing she never got justice for him?

No.

She couldn't. Her father deserved better.

And she needed answers.

Camellia continued walking. By the time she reached her street, she was exhausted.

She looked up and slowed down when she saw her landlord standing outside her house. He was a man in his late forties. Skinny. Wretched from being a chain smoker.

"Good afternoon, sir."

He looked at her. Then quickly looked away, then looked down before looking at her again.

“You're back.”

“Yes…”

There was an awkward silence.

Camellia frowned. “Is everything okay?”

He rubbed his palms together. “I actually wanted to speak with you.”

“Okay…?”

He hesitated and then finally let out a breath. “About the house…”

Camellia's heart skipped a beat. “What about it?”

“I need you to leave.”

She stared at him. “Sorry?”

“I need you to evacuate the house.”

“I don’t get you. What do you mean I should leave?”

He looked around before lowering his voice.

“Please don't ask too many questions.”

Camellia's suspicion grew. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Then why do you suddenly want me out?”

He sighed. “I'll give you two days.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“I'm not trying to throw you out.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I'll pay you.”

Camellia stared at him in disbelief. “Pay me?”

“Yes.”

“To leave?”

He nodded.

She couldn't understand. Her landlord had always been strict about rent. Now he was offering her money to leave a house she'd already paid to stay in?

“Why?” She asked.

He looked genuinely nervous. “Please, Camellia. Just leave.”

Camellia stepped closer. “Sir, what's going on?”

He shook his head. “I don't know anything.”

“You clearly know something.”

“I said I don't.”

“Then why are you scared?”

The question made him freeze. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Then he looked at her.

“Two days.”

He turned around and walked away.

Camellia watched him go. Something was seriously wrong. She looked at the house. For the first time since she'd lived there, it didn't feel like home anymore.

She unlocked the door and went inside. Her eyes immediately went to the box. It was still there. Exactly where she'd left it.

Camellia went to her room. She changed into something comfortable and climbed into bed.

Sleep came slowly.

Her mind wouldn't shut down.

Her father's face kept appearing in her thoughts. Memories she had with him wouldn't stop replaying in her mind.

Eventually, exhaustion took over. When she finally woke up, it was pitch dark. The moonlight was infiltrating her curtains. And those dogs were going insane again.

She stayed still. Another bark followed.

Then another.

Her heart began pounding. She sat up slowly.

The barking had grown louder. More Aggressive. Almost as though the dogs were reacting to something.

Camellia pushed the blanket aside. She walked toward the window. The room was dark.

She carefully pulled the curtain aside.

At first, she saw nothing. Just the empty street.

The darkness. The faint light from a distant streetlamp.

Camellia stared harder into the darkness. The longer she looked, the more she could make out a shape in the shadows—a tall, stillness-defying silhouette.

Nah, she thought, shaking her head. Just my imagination. I'm going crazy.

But then, the silhouette blew a thin stream of smoke into the air.

Goosebumps gripped her, and she quickly shut her window. Her heart was racing. Her fingers were trembling. She was almost panicking.

What the hell was that?