12 Badoets
Eleventh

"Pack up soon! Come with me. The longer you delay, the more danger may approach" Angel ordered.

In the end Wildan had no other choice. He went inside his room, picked up a shabby backpack from back in High School. Then Wildan put in a few sheets of t-shirts and pants worth wearing. Not to forget the wooden box under the mattress, he also put it in a backpack.

In haste Wildan slammed a piggy bank with a picture of fat rooster made of clay. The sound of a piggy bank bursting accompanied by scattered coins rang out loud in the ears. Wildan immediately picked it up, putting the pennies in a plastic bag.

Angel dropped her body on the living room couch. He looked up at the worn-out ceiling of the house. His mind was far away. At first glance it was clear, the young woman forced to be tough, even though her mind was shaken. Mr. Anwar who was observing him realized that.

"It seems, you are hiding the pain of your heart Miss. Or maybe you don't actually have the heart to torture a parent like me? You are as gentle-hearted as Wildan, but force yourself to do evil. Is that so?" ask Mr. Anwar full of probes.

"Do you consider my actions to be evil, Old Man? Torturing a criminal even if he is old is not a crime. Is it not in the depths of your heart that you feel deserving of this kind of torment?" angel replied without looking at it. He was still observing the ceiling of Wildan's house. There were several lizards clustered there, as if talking about the two humans below.

"What do you mean?" Anwar asked back.

"Isn't your whole life haunted by the regret of robbery and even killing a friend of your own? What you did in the past, doesn't it feel like it's not worth what you enjoy in the present?" this time Angel stared intently at Mr. Anwar. A look of eyes that really touched the heart of Mr. Anwar.

"If you hadn't committed the robbery, maybe your life would have been more glorious and prosperous by now. Isn't that what's on your old man's mind, Old Man?" angel once again.

Mr. Anwar swallowed his saliva. No questions flocked out of Angel's mouth. Questions that seemed to know the heart of Mr. Anwar all this time. The old man always tried to forget his past sins, living a normal and simple life. Teaching the little kids in the village, even though the guilt is always haunting.

"Who are you Miss? I don't recognize you at all, but you seem to know me in that detail" Anwar said with trembling eyes.

"Alright, we'd better get to know Old Man. I don't want to torture you with curiosity. My name is Angelica Sukma Santoso" replied Angel. He was still sitting on the sofa with his legs raised. It looks rude and disrespectful.

"Santos?" Mr. Anwar frowned.

Angel breathed slowly. He stood up, and stepped footily picking up the backpack that was in the corner of the room. He took out a clown mask and wrote the number 7 on his forehead. Then Angel came back to approach Mr. Anwar.

"You recognize Santoso? Your name, that mask? How come?" asked Mr. Anwar looked astonished. His forehead showed wrinkles, a sign that he was thinking.

"I'm his son" replied Angel briefly.

"Huh? Don't brag!" deny Mr. Anwar does not believe.

Angel squinted her eyes, smiling at a glance. He put the clown mask back in his backpack.

"My jaw! Who are you really?" ask Mr. Anwar once more.

At the same time Wildan came out of the room. On his shoulder was a butut backpack, while his right hand carried a large plastic bag of spare change.

"Gtttt!" Angel closed her mouth, holding back a laugh.

"Don't make fun of me. What did you guys just talk about?" ask Wildan grumbling.

"It's not important" said Angel quickly.

Wildan approached Mr. Anwar. He sighed, watching the former teacher who was covered in wounds all over his body. Pak Anwar's nose looks torn due to the sabetage of the gear, his white hair on the back of the head seems to clot with a thick red liquid that begins to dry. Also a folding knife still perched on his right thigh.

Wildan crouched down in front of Mr. Anwar. He put a plastic bag with pennies on the floor. Wildan was about to remove the used tyre rubber straps that tied Mr. Anwar tightly. However, Angel roughly pulled Wildan's shoulder, until the man fell.

"What do you want to do bod*h?" snapped Angel. He glared at Wildan.

"Before leaving, I want to untie him. After all, he could not go anywhere with a wound in the leg like that" Wildan said pointing to Pak Anwar's thigh with a wet wound.

"Look, he's this old. My home is far from the neighbors. If no one finds him here tomorrow, he could die. Please, I don't want to be a hunter*h" Wildan said.

Angel cleared his throat for a moment, taking his eyes off Wildan's eyeballs which exuded sincerity. In the end Angel complied with Wildan's request, releasing the rope that tied the body of old Mr. Anwar.

"I'm sorry Wildan" said Mr. Anwar, after the ties in his hands were removed.

"After this, let's just say we never knew each other sir" Wildan said.

"Wherever you go, be careful. Don't trust anyone, including this woman." Mr. Anwar pointed at Angel.

"Let's go soon. If you're slow, I'll be gone!" angel on Wildan. The fierce beautiful woman immediately ran out of the house.

Wildan followed. Although it was raining very heavily, he still ran through the cold air that made his lips turn blue. Occasional thunder rang out, accompanied by a bright light at the foot of the sky.

After a few minutes down the muddy dirt road, Wildan finally came out of his alley. A black car was parked across the street. Angel immediately got into the car, wagging her wet hair. Wildan caught up with him, and threw the backpack in the back seat.

Angel turns on the car's cabin lights. Without Wildan guessing, Angel casually took off his wet shirt. His pure white skin radiated under the glare of the cabin lights that were slightly yellow. Wildan was stunned, unable to take his eyes off the woman who now only wears the frilly white t-shirt. His jakun reflex went up and down and gulped.

"Damn! You never see a girl? Huh uh?" snapped Angel, when he realized was being stared at by Wildan to nosebleeds.

"Ah, sorry," said Wildan, turning his gaze.

Wildan threw a glance at the street on the left where he sat. Unexpectedly he met a woman who was walking on foot wearing a black umbrella, while carrying a large crackle patterned with stripes. That woman is Ika, ex-Wildan.

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