His Purpose
13. Hugs

...🍁🍁🍁...

Thunder was out the window. The rain was pouring grass and soil. Light flashes in the dark of the night. It was late, and Mary closed the book she had just read. He stored it on the table, then close the blanket on the shoulder to dispel the increasingly piercing air.

He glanced at the clock that showed ten o'clock. That meant the servants had already returned to the pavilion.

Maria took a breath. Honestly, the time he hated the most in this house was night. Where he would be alone make silent and lonely friends.

"Has Ko Gibran gone home?" his murmur almost resembled a whisper.

He got up, walked to the door and walked out. From the afternoon his time was spent in the room. Starting from her move to this house, Maria became a hobby of reading. Who would have thought he could hold up to hours staring at books and characters.

Normally, not ten minutes had his eyes been heavy. Perhaps his brain understood there was no other choice he could make in this foreign place.

Maria stepped closer to the third floor window. He opened the curtain and peered outside. Unknowingly he sighed, his forehead also furrowed at how big the water that the sky dropped to the earth.

He looked back for a moment, precisely at the hallway leading to Gibran's room. It was dark, it seemed like the man had not returned.

Some days knowing Gibran, Maria knew when the man was there and not home. One of them was that the lights in the hallway of his room would light up if the man had gone home.

Maria looked out again before closing the curtains. He could not bear to see the lightning that seemed to break the window. His voice was so blaring. And that's pretty scary. Some of the lights in the house are dead. There are only a number of wall lights that create a dim atmosphere.

In a white dress she wore, Maria walked along the hallway to the elevator. The satin cloth fluttered across the floor. Her figure looks graceful even in the dark. He pressed a button that would take him to the ground floor. Then sculpt, close the shawl while waiting for the iron door to open.

Arriving below, Mary's eyes circled sweeping out a glance. No matter how he tried to get used to it, Gibran's house remained sinister for him. Suddenly he regretted, why he did not just sleep when the servants were still back and forth doing the work. That way, maybe Maria can get through the night with a little calm.

If not for thirst, any Mary would have bothered to go down and test her guts into the kitchen. How not, Maria has said that Gibran's house is like a dizzying labyrinth. Not to mention the quiet and silent which further adds to the haunted atmosphere. It feels like he's going crazy for a long time.

Mary stepped with the heart of the dag dig dug. In the dark he tried to fumble his steps. Want to turn on the lights he did not know the existence of the switch. It is also likely that he will get lost and cannot go back to the room.

Oh, my God, you know this better he shut up. Didn't Laura ever say if she needed anything she just pressed a button in the room?

"Basic fool!" maki Maria to herself. Why could he forget that fact.

"Oh my God, protect this cute girl. Keep him away from the dedemites whatever the inhabitants of this house." Mary kept on muttering along the way.

Then his feet stopped suddenly in the doorway. Not yet, he had not yet reached the kitchen, but rather the spacious dining room defeated the village hall hall hall.

"Who's there?" ask her with a slightly trembling voice.

Not without reason, the existence of the black figure sitting at the dining table made him almost faint. He guarantees, anyone who sees it will experience the same thing. Surprised, tremor, it was mixed. Maria almost wet her bed in place.

O God, has he not prayed to be spared from all the damned demons that roam about? Did God refuse his prayer?

Maria was stunned as the black shadow stood up. He wanted to turn around and run, but his feet seemed to be fixed to the bottom of the earth. He could only stare with irregular breath. His heart is racing. Cold sweat began to pour. Spit blobs trying to swallow.

Suddenly Mary decays, she bends her knees half prostrate. His hands are cupped above his head. "Ampuuunn ... Jin, demon, demon, please go! Don't eat me .. hwaaa ...!!!"

"Lately I've been eating medicine. My chin is not good. My blood must be bitter. Please, find another victim, devil and devil! Go ...!!! Pueh .. puah ...." Mary waved her hands like she was expelling energy, expelling whatever creature was before her.

He kept moving his hand until a sound made him stop.

"Are you at a theater rehearsal?" The baritone's voice sounded familiar. Flat and cold.

Slowly Maria looked up. His mouth stuttered with a pushy look. "Ko ... Koko!"

The figure loomed over him. His eyes were half lazy to Mary.

"Shop!" Maria exclaimed as she got up from the floor. Whether conscious or not, he suddenly hugged Gibran. Crying and sobbing in the chest of his field that is still fragrant despite mixed with sweat.

The woman did not know, Gibran's body was riveted and sculpted. He was surprised by the sudden reaction of Mary who suddenly hugged him. The woman's cry was ignored. His eyes were straight staring at the dark passageway connecting the dining room.

Maria's body trembled. Apparently the woman was really scared. He let Mary cry as much as she could, hugging her so tightly that she made her shirt wet with tears.

Gibran's hand was still in place. Infiltrate in left and right pockets. Without the slightest intention of replying to Maria's embrace.

A few moments later the woman's breath died down. Mary kept her face away from Gibran's chest. His nose and cheeks were wet, his eyes were red and slightly puffy. His mouth let out a small sedan leftover weeping. Mary frowned, her hands still perched on Gibran's waist. Squeeze the black shirt to shabby.

"Why does Koko have to sit there? This too, why should his clothes be black? I just know you don't!" it means unconsciously.

Besides, Gibran stared at him silently. His eyes shifted downward, then took off Maria's embrace slowly. His body bent over picking up the shawl that was lying on the floor. Then put it on Mary's shoulder.

"This is my house. If you forget," he said briefly. Then walk right past Maria.

Mary, still in fear, turned to follow Gibran. The man stopped and looked at her. He glanced at Maria's fingers pinching his shirt.

"What's wrong?" ask her with one eyebrow raised.

Mary's lips pursed. He seemed to be trying hard to bring out courage. "Well."

"Then?"

"Anter ..." his great-grandson lowered his head.

***

...Wiranata Gibran...