Lost

Photo by Garel Sison

I love the feeling of taking risks.

 “Stop! Please, I’m begging you.”

I love the feeling of taking risks because they just feel like childlike games. They give me the satisfaction that I want. What I love about games is that I always win, and that’s something I look forward to. I never fail to make myself superior and I never feel bad about it. In this territory, for as long as I live, I rule.

“Why would I take it? Aaarrggghhh! Please, stop!”

Yesterday, a black limousine drove up to the front of the casino and came out a fat, bald man with a trail of personal security guards as he entered the building. The people made way for the stranger to pass. He said out loud, “Who wants to play with me?” With full confidence and without hesitation, I said, “Me.”

“Aaaarrrggghhhh! I only wanted to play. It was not me.”

We took the farthest table, and behind him were his guards. I only had my friend with me, or more like my gambling buddy, to sit opposite him. We played. We placed the money on the table and the amount grew higher as each round was played. He started winning consecutive rounds, and it was a slap to my face to lose to this stranger. My friend also knew the reputation that I have to uphold. We started to worry.

“I told you, I didn’t steal it. Aaarrrggghhh! Stoooopppp, please! Stop!”

I couldn’t do anything at that point. I was on the brink of losing, and the thing is, my friend stood up, said good night and walked away.  I thought to myself, “This is all me now.”

“Why don’t you try to ask other people? I swear I didn’t get it. Stop. Now. Please!”

Just then, the alarms started to go off and people were running and screaming everywhere. I turned around and the security guards of that stranger were protecting and shielding him. Not knowing what exactly was going on, I rushed outside with the others and drove home with the stranger still in my mind.

“How many times do I have to say it? I don’t have it! Let me go now!”

I got home as fast as I could and read through the news, I searched through the Internet, and I scanned through my files and folders to know who that person was. Just then, a car drove up in front of my house and the front door was kicked open. Men in black suits drugged me and took me away.

“I swear. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only wanted to play.”

My head hurt and every other part of my body hurt as I opened my eyes. I was on the floor, all tied up and I was surrounded by men. I squinted my eyes and saw the stranger staring at me.

“Who are you? Why am I here?”

“I think we both know why. You stole my money from me.”

“I didn’t.”

Just then, a searing pain radiated from my back and the smell of burnt flesh was eminent. I screamed to the top of my voice though it was pointless. I almost blacked out.

The stranger started shouting at me, saying, “Liar! Who else would take it? You were the only person whom I played with!”

He wanted me to admit that I stole it but I can’t because I didn’t. But everytime I deny the accusation, I get more burned. It felt like my muscles are going to slip off my bones. The entire happening passed like a blur.

I lost track of the time. But for what seemed like forever of searing and shouting, it became a five-minute peace.

“You know what happened. I was losing. My money is yours now. A penny is all I have.”

What I said was a mistake.

That penny didn’t matter anymore. I still lost it.

Life was all I had.

But it, too, didn’t matter anymore. I also lost it.