Open doors

I felt so uncomfortable as my grandmother talks to the neighbors with the doors open. She is just one of those people who felt it was alright to open their arms to anyone, especially strangers. This is not the first time she has ever been naïve enough to get lured into a trap. Last decade, she was led to believe that the old man from the grocery store was asking her out. She went all the way to the end of the streets, in a alley where she got robbed by a group of men. That never teaches her any lessons, instead she would often say "It is just another luck. Be optimistic". Yet two years ago, she went missing for two month, turns out she was trapped underground by another one of her most trustworthy friends.

I finished my cup of buffalo milk tea as she shuffled inside. Her face changed, from a gloomy, hopeless smile to energy. "It is nothing really. But I just want you to tell your sister, and your parents that I will not be home for supper," her face twisted into a grin, like she does not need top worry for the world. "Where are you going?" I asked, I knew the answer already, well not exactly. "I am going to see an old friend of mine. It is nothing stressful, she is a great person," she smiled and handed me another biscuit from the basket. "Lets just hope you are right. Carry a phone with you, just in case something happens," I recommended, but knew she never listens to children's ideas.

That night, the four of us sat at the dinning table, next to the lounge. My mother had the face where she often had when a member of our closest have gone missing. My father was too momentum on turning his newspaper, that he did not notice her as vamoose as Celeste and I. "Where is your grandma?" she demanded from the both of us. "I have no idea. Celia was the one staying with her this afternoon, why ask me. I was in my dance routine the whole time," Celeste smirked across the table, where her stew made a mess. "Celia, do not tell me you forgot to tell her..........." "She told me to tell you this. She went out with one of her friends tonight. It is fine, they will be back before you know it," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. Although something about the friend made me puzzle.

My mother did not settle down, her spoon fall out of her hands and landed on the ground. My sister quickly drunk all her water before she starts to speak. My father shut out his newspaper -he never does not unless absolute case- and opened his phone. "Why didn't you say anything. I told you, your grandmother has a mental illness, where she loses directions at night. I told you to take care of her, you never listen to me. At the times of heaven, you would find your secrets are not as beneficent as it seems!" my mother screamed across the table. Her hands were over her hands now, but she did not seem to cry.

"Has she taken her phone with her?" my father asked, trying to get to her number. "She said that the friend would much rather see her without any distractions. I tried to warn her, but she would not obey," I reminded my apprehended family. "You should have done better, Celia. I am so disappointed in you. She was your grandmother!" my mother scowled, while Celeste was sniggering, I could hear her from under the table. "We might as well have to drive around the streets, see where she is. She is an old woman, how long can it take?" my father instructed us all to come with him, especially me.

It was 8:30pm at night, we drove almost over the entire cottage, but no signs of her or her footsteps. Everyone around here knew who she was -she was that dorky old lady who lived in discrete and acted very strange around her fellow peers- non of them had seen her. "We might as well call the cops," Celeste suggested, it was obvious she wanted to go back to bed. "No, we are not giving up. The police comes all the way from the urban area, it would take at least half an hour, we do not have that much time," my mother replied, quickly glanced at me with reproach. At the very end of the streets, where two famous shopping centers adjacent together. There was a dark alley, we saw an old lady sitting there, almost as if she was tortured.

One second, I thought I was seeing things. Before realizing that was my grandmother. She sat there, on the floor with blood splatting all over her arm. It was ripped off, such an horror and shock penetrated through my heart, like it stopped working. She did not open her eyes, and when we called her she did not response. As the ambulance drove near to the venue, I was one of those who could not take it anymore. I dropped to the ground, my mind went empty. The last vision I ever saw was my parents calling me "Celia, are you ok?"

I opened my eyes, I was in bed. My grandmother was still in hospital, but that thought did not leave. "Celia, you were knocked out. When the ambulance came, you felled to the concrete and stopped moving," my father told me everything, I could not remember any of it. But the only thing I could still remember was my grandmother "Is she ok? Where is she now?" I asked. "Your grandma has been beaten in the alley. I was right, all her friends always lure her into a abominable torment. Her arm was cut off by a knife, probably from one of her friends allies. She is fine now, just in hospital, resting," he said. "I am so sorry for what I did to her. I was stupid enough to think she could go out by herself. And keep it away from you. I made a fool of myself, and now she must pay for my price. How is that fair?" I asked, tears splashing down my face.