Chapter 4
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He felt so ashamed of himself as he walked into the small apartment he shared with his beloved grandmother, grandma Edith, as he usually calls her. He smiles as he sees her bent a few meters away while spreading something out on the mat. He learns that his grandmother Edith had been the one who raised him after he was abandoned as a child by his father and the death of his mother. He tries to hold back his tears, and he slowly approaches her with his bag hung on one of his shoulders.
"Grandma," he calls out.
Edith recognized the voice of her precious child and turned back immediately. "Kyle! Oh my boy, I miss you." She strode slowly to him in steady steps. "What are you doing home in the middle of the week?" She questioned while she was still walking to meet her grandson. But the instant Kyle moved closer to her and she caught a glimpse of his face, her hand flew to cover her mouth as she let out a loud gasp.
"Kyle!!" Instantly, tears brimmed at the corner of her eyes. She had never seen her precious boy battered like this before. "What happened to you?"
Now Kyle was standing before her, and he gave her a slight smile. "Grandma, am fine." He held her both hands that were already trembling.
They both went inside their small home, while Grandma Edith attended to his wound and gave him a little dap to his swollen body. Kyle narrated everything that had happened at school and how he was suspended for a month. Grandma Edith tears flow down her face, apologizing to Kyle for not giving him a better life.
The duo comforted each other, with Kyle assuring her he wouldn't allow this little setback to affect his studies and promising to focus on his studies from that day onward.
Kyle was on his way to one of his part-time jobs; he had run a few miles from the location of one of his part-time jobs and was on his way to the other, which will start in less than ten minutes. He had missed the bus and couldn't afford to take a taxi.
As he ran, he ignored the pain that was radiating through his body from the injury he had sustained a few days ago from Stephen's assault. Memories of how his grandma had taken care of him and suffered because of him flood his thoughts. How he had promised himself to live a better life because of her, and yet here he was causing her another level of pain and humiliation by being suspended from school. She had noticed how unhappy she had become by the news and blamed herself for not giving him a better life.
By the time he reached the front of the restaurant where he was supposed to work, he was breathless, sweaty, and looking disarrayed. Checking his watch, he still had five minutes before his shift would commence.
Walking to a corner to go in through the backdoor, he bent down, placing both hands on his kneel, trying to calm his racing heart and possibly catch his breath. Passers murmur about how deterred he was looking; some tagged him as a beggar, giving the high class of the restaurant, but he didn't care about what they had to say about him. The pay here is good, and he needed the money; that was all that matters.
After a while, he ensured he was much calmer and began to walk to the back entrance of the restaurant. It was only at this moment that he felt the pain radiating through his body, which was doubled the time he was hit. Lost in thoughts and only thinking about his grandmother, he didn't take cognizance of his surroundings.
When suddenly, a sleek, black car reversed back and pulled up in front of him, its glossy exterior shining under the afternoon sun. The door opened, and several men in crisp, tailored suits stepped out. For a moment, Kyle blinked, thinking he was hallucinating from the stress and pain.
The tallest of the men with sharp features and dark sunglasses approached him. He gave a respectful nod to Kyle while he looked around him; maybe there was somebody else that was directed to. "Mr. Cross?" the man asked.
Kyle hesitated, unsure of what was happening. "Yeah, that is me." He answered, stuttering.
The man smiled politely. "We have been sent by Mr. Howard. He would like to speak with you. Please, come with us."
Kyle's brow furrowed in confusion. Mr. Howard? The name was both familiar and unfamiliar to him. But before he could ask any questions, the men opened the car door and gestured for him to get in. His body was still sore, and his mind raced with uncertainty, but something in their demeanor told him this wasn't a request.
Kyle shook his head before he told them he was not going with them. Immediately Kyle observed them further; he wasn't sure if they were sent by Stephen or his family. If that is the case, going with them will only be the death of him.
While he tries to navigate himself out of them, they block his path. Every attempt he makes fails, leaving him helpless. Then he began to apologize to them, saying that he promised not to cross paths with Stephen again and that his only desire was to go back home to his grandma.
"Mr. Cross, we are not harming you. We are only asked to bring you with us to see Mr. Howard."
With little other choice, Kyle climbed into the car. The interior was luxurious, with leather seats and tinted windows that shielded him from the prying eyes of anyone who might still be watching.
As the car drove off, Kyle's mind buzzed with questions. Who was Mr. Howard? And what business does he want with him? He silently cries; perhaps he might not see his grandmother again, he thought.