"I know what you did; I'm going to make sure everyone does too."
Amaya felt her heart skip several bits. She had just gotten home from her best friend's five-year memorial at the church when she received the call from the strange number that stopped her heart for several minutes, or so it felt.
"What did I do? Who's this?"
She asked, hoping to God that the caller wasn't referring to what she thought.
The caller cackled wickedly at the other end, with the distorted voice that tortured the eardrum with its screeching, probably from equipment set up for the purpose.
"You know what you did. Why are you pretending to mourn Leslie? Aren't you happy she's gone?"
"She was my best friend; how can I be happy she's gone?"
She screamed angrily into the phone, her guilt eating her up from the inside. If only she hadn't lost her temper that night.
"You know you are; why haven't you confessed?"
The voice prodded accusingly.
"Because there's nothing to confess."
She fired back, shouting.
"I hope you are happy being married to Bob and taking him from her. How do you sleep at night knowing how much evil you have done?"
The caller continued accusingly.
"I didn't do anything wrong; Bob was my boyfriend and later became my husband. What are you saying?"
"Well, the whole world will see you for what you are—a heartless usurper. I'm coming for you, and you better get ready."
She felt the dial tone click as the call dropped at the other end.
She rested her back against the wall and slid to the floor, still dressed in the black gown she wore to the service.
Amaya was in the kitchen doing the dishes a few days later when her four-year-old son, Bob Jr., came running in excitedly from the balcony, waving a piece of paper.
"Mummy, see."
"What's that?"
She asked absentmindedly.
"A nice gentleman asked me to give you this."
It was a reflex action; the dish in her hand fell to the floor, and she urgently sidestepped the pieces to snatch the paper from him.
"What man? What did I tell you about talking to strangers?"
She asked, looking around wildly and running to bolt the door.
"Where's he?"
She demanded as soon as she came back into the kitchen.
"He has left. He went down the street on a bike."
She snatched the paper out of his hand and quickly unfolded it.
Go straight into your room and remain there. We'll have a serious discussion later."
He shrugs nonchalantly and bounces out of the kitchen to his room as per her order.
Sne diverts her attention to the note in her hand and begins to read.
"I look at Bob Jr., and I can't help but think he should have been given birth to by Leslie. You took that away from her, and now I'm going to take it from you too. Pity your son is going to have to pay for your sins; he's such a cute boy. And why should you have Bobyo yourself after everything you have done? He has to go, too. I'll be seeing you."
She was about to lose it; someone was playing a very expensive prank on her, and she couldn't understand why. This person knew things only she and Leslie were supposed to know. Leslie was dead, so how could the person know so much?
Something occurred to her, and she picked her phone off the counter with shaky hands and dialed the coroner's number. The coroner that handled Leslie's autopsy.
"Hello, Judith, it's Amaya."
She said so as soon as the latter picked up.
"Hi, Amaya. I heard today's the fifth anniversary of your friend's death. How are you holding up?"
She asked, concern evident in her tone.
"I'm doing okay, thank you. I had a quick question for you, if you don't mind."
She said, going straight to the point.
"Yes, sure, shoot."
"The night Leslie's body was brought in from the accident, are you sure it's her?"
She was sure she wasn't making any sense to herself.
"I mean, is there any chance that it could be someone else's body? Please don't be offended."
She amended it stupidly.
There was a brief silence at the other end.
"Is there something wrong, Amaya? I did the autopsy on Leslie, and I can tell you for a fact that the body before my table was Leslie's. What's going on?"
Amaya felt bile rising through her throat and abruptly dropped the call with an urgent sense of impending doom.
She ran out of the kitchen straight into her son's room to pack for him. If only Bob was home and not away on a business trip, he would know what to do.
The phone rang twice before Amaya was roused from sleep; she had taken two sleeping pills before she was finally able to sleep.
"Hey, babe. What's up."
She smiled into the phone.
"Hey, babe. How did your meeting go?"
Bob's ever-bubbly voice responded from the other end,
"The meeting went well. How are you doing?"
"Hanging in there, but I'll be fine."
She answers groggily, saying the pills are still working effectively.
"Are you okay? Where's Junior?"
Her husband asked, sensing something was wrong.
"He's at Mom's; I'll explain to you when you come."
"How about you explain to me now? You are getting me worried."
"When you come, I'll..."
She fought to reply as the sleep overpowered her, and she drifted off to sleep.
Bang! Thud!
Amaya woke up with a start; what sound was that?
She sat up and strained her ears, fear eating her up.
She threw the bedspread off and slipped quietly off the bed. She was almost at the door when she noticed she wasn't alone.
"You killed her!"
The hooded figure who was standing beside her bedroom door shouted.
She darted her eyes quickly toward her phone, but it was on the bedside mirror, far from her reach.
She made an attempt to dash for it, but he overpowered her, pushing her against the wall and slapping her repeatedly.
"I didn't do it!"
She cried, struggling to break free.
"I was the one who saw her near-lifeless body at the foot of the cliff, and you just walked away like nothing had happened."
"That's not true; she slipped because she was trying to apologize for kissing my boyfriend, Bob."
She screamed in pain.
"And you left her there? After tricking her to the cliff, how heartless can you be?"
"I didn't trick her to the cliff; I went there to be alone because I was angry. She came to meet me to apologize, and I was trying to walk away from her. She ran after me and slipped; there was nothing I could do. I tried, but she was gone."
He twisted her arms to the back, causing her further pain.
"You know, I saw it happen; I saw everything. I was standing on the other side, and I saw you walk away, and I saw her near-lifeless body after. She tried to fight, but she lost the battle."
"I didn't walk away; I ran away because I was scared and didn't know what to do. I've felt the guilt eat me up since."
"But you went ahead to marry that same Bob. I've watched you since then, and even though I didn't know Leslie till the day she died, she has been nagging me to avenge her death, and I will. I'll go to your mom's place to kill your son, and then wait for Bob to come back and kill him too.
She saw the shiny glint of the knife as he withdrew it from his side.
"You are sick. I don't even know you. Please, don't do this."
Just then, her husband barged in.
"Leave her alone, you bastard."
He yelled, charging at the intruder.
They wrestled fiercely, with her husband finally pinning the intruder to the ground.
"Call the police!"
Her husband ordered. Amaya, trembling, managed to dial 911.
"Help is on the way."
She spoke, her voice shaky but determined.
The police arrived shortly after to arrest the assailant.
Shaken but safe, Amaya clung to her husband, grateful for his timely intervention.
"I have to tell you something."
She whispered.
"You don't have to; I heard it all over the phone. You didn't do anything wrong. None of this is your fault."
"I love you."
"Always,"
He replied, holding her close.
