The early morning sun was shining timidly through the foliage of a tree, the blue sky peeking through. She heard a voice calling for her in the distance. The echo awoke ancient memories of sunny mornings welcomed by poultry and bird choirs. The smell of dew on orchids, the old songs that sang joyfully, and the slow squeaking of wheels. The faraway whisper of the sea. In a blink of the eye, a child’s face appeared above hers.
“Found you!” The child giggled, his blue eyes bending in delight, his brown, curly hair bouncing around.
“Ma! Let’s go!” He stretched his bronze hand, taking hers and pulling her away.
Running through the golden field along a familiar path, she stayed silent as she listened to the child. Random stories and daily life gimmicks, useless and heart-warming chitchat.
“Everyone is waiting for you.” He sauntered past the garden gate. “You’re the only one missing!”
Conversations echoed and people’s shadows flickered by a table of food. Behind the bushes, she could catch a glimpse of a familiar and comfortable scene.
“Pa!” The child yelled as he spotted a man’s back.
He let go of her hand and ran to the man. She stilled, her feet rooted deep in place. This house, this family, this man’s back. This child, this past of his, and this piece of her. The heart-warming scenery and the laughter pierced through her emptiness. She heard their joy, their love, their liveliness. She watched the shadow of herself witnessing the scene with an accustomed apathy, each echo stabbing and sinking deeper in the nothingness.
“Look!” The child grabbed onto the man’s arm as he pointed to her.
The man patted his head, a doting smile illuminating his profile. Slowly, the man turned around and extended his bony hand, too far to reach her. The familiar warmth turned into the usual desolated scene. The handsome face melted into an abomination. Words of accusations. Cries and tears. The shivers of death. Light exploded in fragments of happier times. The despair. The scars. The blood. She had seen it on repeat for so long. The rot. The wails. The pungent smell of iron. This endless nightmare was stuck on repeat. Memories and desire came in waves. She stood there, immobile, witnessing for the umpteenth time the downfall of her existence. Screams filled the space within.
Wave after wave came at her. Overwhelmed by the pressure, she felt trapped, her breath stuck in her throat. In this endless dream, her shadow shivered and pain erupted. Her head buzzed and a surge of emotions rose from the depths of her soul to her fingertips. Panic. Anguish. A despair so great, so great… And anger. So much anger, towards herself, the universe, and destiny. Anger for being indecisive, anger for what she was. Wrath for being–
No. She needed to step back, to blend once again into the shadows. Seal everything away. Away from everything. Away from the ugliness she couldn’t accept. She wanted to run, hide. She felt lost, unable to find her way out. Breathless. Exhausted. Her mind wanted it to end, wanted it to be destroyed. Destruction and annihilation. She could end it all. Right here, right now. She could–
She stirred and gasped, emerging in a wave, splashing water everywhere. Her hands cramped against the tub’s edge as she sat up straight. Wheezing, her head was throbbing and her throat parched. She knew it.
‘Red dust converging from all directions, merging with smoke and clouds over the entire city’.
No matter how many times she shed her skin and started over, she couldn’t lay the past to rest. Darkness clouded her heart, vivid crimson blossomed in her eyes like a flame tree. Wrath. Endless wrath and madness. She wanted to let it seep out, let the blood pour out and dye the world. Let her wounds fester and rot.
She rested against the cold edge and felt as if her soul was freezing cold. She felt the heaviness of her soaking wet pajama, the itchiness of fabric against her skin, and almost tasted the overly sweet scent of the soap. She clawed at her throat, and the three beauty marks sprinkled on her skin reddened. She tore her skin, drawing blood. She felt overwhelmed and sank back into the water. She sank back into the silence and the tranquility.
***
Days passed by, and after the deep lows came the dizzying highs. She started to roam outside, exploring the beauty of the unfamiliar beds, and drifting to unknown peninsulas. She would talk to people she didn’t find interesting. Sleep with those whose names she didn’t bother learning. Lost in the vastness, like a wreck, she desperately indulged.
She played games.
Laughed.
Drank herself to oblivion.
Yelled and berated.
Broke and burned things to ashes.
And, at its peak, she would come crashing and wash ashore by the violence of her high temper. She would wake up trembling and panting. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t fuss, she would just sit there. Sit and stare in space for hours. Numb and unfeeling, as if empty spaces reflected the mirage of a distant past.
Just like the tide, she would rise and fall endlessly.
She just wanted it to stop. Stop being torn, stop being hesitant, stop being.
Just stop.
***
31 October 2020
6:35 pm
Stewart Mansion
It was one of those days she hated the most. She loathed this season the most. The unbearable heat that turned freezing cold as soon as the sun set. She hated the lingering feelings of summer joy, the heartlessness of dying leaves, and the cold rainy days. She was stuck inside watching documentaries on bread all day.
She heard movement at the door, followed by several knocks.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Whispers of conversations and muffled laughs. She frowned and looked around. Nobody was home and she had no intention of getting up. She believed that if she ignored it long enough, the knocks would go away. Knocks came in waves, broken rhythms of random people. At some point, she became annoyed.
Why were there people at her door?
She went to the window hidden behind thick blackout curtains, opened a slit, and peeked outside. The bright street lights stung her dry eyes. In a daze, she observed the street below. Legions of adults and dressed-up children strode along the crowded streets of a suffocating afternoon. Echoes of conversations and shouts spread through the air, which added a chaotic tempo to the clatter of footsteps on the pavement. The delirious crowd was full of life and laughter, a wave of bouncing bodies, impractical costumes, and baskets of candies.
“Ma! Let’s go! I want to eat candies. And bread! And meat skewers!” The child giggled. “I want to eat it all. Do you think I’ll see fireworks?”
Stunned and bewildered, she stood there, her frenzied heartbeat being carried away by the crowd that soared and danced in a mad farandole. She felt her breath shortened, chest crushing down her heart, and shivers spreading down her body. She clenched her fists and bit her lips bloody. Her hazel eyes glazed over. Her hand trembled and her breathing grew heavy. Her head started to hurt.
No. She didn’t want to–
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
She stepped back further into the shadows.
She didn’t want to be overwhelmed, didn’t want to lose control. She clawed at her throat, drawing blood. Blood trickled down, dripping down her heart, tainting her mind.
A red veil shrouding her soul.
No. She had to end this. She needed to remember who she was and stop being indecisive. She can’t keep this charade going.
Her lonely figure stood in the middle of the bleak room. Old pajamas, black circles around her empty eyes, tired eyelids that struggled to remain focused. Twisted locs, pallid black skin, and an overwhelming thirst for control. She needed a drink and a nap.
Just a sip.
Just a glass to make the darkness a tad quieter.
Just a bottle to sleep a bit better.
***
7:17 pm
“Uncle Sam, you came for candies too?” Alice teased.
The chief of police showed an awkward face, “Can we come in?”
“Yes, of course.”
Alice stepped aside and saw Sam gesturing to a man in a military suit behind him. The man was tall and in his late fifties. He entered first, his face severe and a trace of disdain in his eyes. Alice frowned at the sight and turned to Sam for some explanation.
“This is–”
“I am General Igs. I must see–” The man started.
“She’s not in a good mood right now,” Alice cut him off. “I don’t think–”
“No one cares about what you think, young lady. This is a serious matter concerning national security.” The general barked.
The general disdained talking to an irrelevant woman. He was there for only one purpose; to retrieve an asset. He had been in the center of power for many years, but he still didn’t understand why the Cabinet had let her roam free for all these years. Someone like her, with her knowledge and capacities should have been kept in a box far from sight. Studied, shelled, and analyzed in depth to retrieve all her worth. Him coming to politely ask for help was tantamount of putting his government on the weaker side, which was unacceptable. He stepped in with force. Alice blocked his way and glanced at Sam, only to receive a dejected look. She snorted, displeased.
“I understand that you’re doing your job, but I’m also doing mine.” Alice crossed her arms and raised her chin. “Please come back tomorrow afternoon.”
“Shut up! I don’t have time to talk to a child. Move aside or I’ll have you arrested for treason!” He scolded.
Outside, a team of heavily armed men quickly deployed around the house and some tried to force entry. Alice pursed her lips and in a flourish of her hand, a thin bamboo sword appeared in her hand.
“This house isn’t somewhere you can waltz in at will. Your government knows well that it has no rights here and we can’t be held accountable for anything that happens to you inside.” Alice declared coldly.
Her whole demeanor changed. The sunny college girl melted into an aloof and trained steward. She glanced at them coldly, quickly making a head count. Taking them down wouldn’t be hard.
“You guys are noisy.”
A slightly raspy voice floated down the hallway. Alice and Sam visibly shuddered. Completely oblivious, the general swiftly bypassed Alice and barged in as the heavy armed team trailed behind.
“Sorry… I didn’t have a choice.” Sam sighed heavily.
“It’s too late for that,” Alice shook her head. “You saw it too. I warned them. They are the ones who came in forcefully. If they die, it’s on them.” She shrugged and left.
In the living room, a black woman was sitting on a sofa, watching a documentary on cheese. She was lazily eating cereal drowned in whiskey out of a saucepan. She only wore a pair of shorties and an old sports bra, her wet dreadlocks dripping on the sofa. Nonchalantly, she was slouching there, absorbed in a world full of different types of cheese and cream. Without warning, the room filled with heavily armed men and assault rifles were pointing at her. She didn’t wince and continued without being phased. The general positioned himself in front of the TV, blocking the view.
“I’m General–”
“You’re in the way,” she declared lightly while munching on her cereal.
The man turned off the TV and stared down at her in defiance.
“I came on the President’s behalf to–”
“I don’t care.” She pressed the remote and put back her program.
“I don’t have time to play games. Follow me, you need to take care of something,” he ordered sternly. He waited but the woman was still immersed in her program. “I see that you want to have it the hard way.”
He signaled to his team, “Take her down.”
The deployed men took a step forward, her head well adjusted in their sights. She didn’t bother glancing at them, just turned up the volume. As they took their second step, she snorted. Instantly, they collapsed. They didn’t utter a sound, not even a grunt. They weren't even wounded, simply collapsed as if they were puppets whose strings were cut off. Their fall was silent, their life or death unknown. There was no tense atmosphere, no violence nor killing intent. The muffled thud of their bodies dropping on the soft carpet was drowned by the MC’s comments on Parmesan.
“What–” The general was stunned.
“You’re annoying.” The woman threw him a side-eye.
When her eyes met his, unknown fear gripped his soul. In his mind, the almost naked woman sitting there had morphed into a blood-curdling, monstrous being. His pupils contracted, blood drained from his face, and his knees gave out. Chills made his back tremble. In a glance, this military general experienced terror like he never had.
“Alice.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Take out the trash.”
The woman watching her show still didn’t spare any glance to her surroundings. The general’s forehead oozed with cold sweat. He had been warned but dismissed everything as old wives’ tales. He had been warned but he had thought that he could manage to bring her down, one way or another. On the other side of the room, Sam sighed. He glanced at Alice for help, but she ignored him. He didn’t want the situation to escalate any further. In the end, he crouched on the side of the sofa.
“Sam. I’m watching TV.”
“I know I shouldn’t disturb you. I brought those people–”
“Your point.”
“They say they have a serious issue on their hands.” Sam stared at her. “A nuclear reactor has been compromised and is on the verge of a collapse.”
“So what?”
“They came to request help.”
“Oh.” She changed channels as her program came to an end. She put one on sweet potatoes.
“Please, do me a favor. This puts people at risk and endangers the whole country and its ecosystem. It can affect the whole world’s balance.” Sam asked gently.
“So what?” She replied in between scoops.
“Please. Do it for me.” Sam pleaded.
“My head hurts. Leave.”
Sam grimaced. The truth was, he had expected it. He knew it would end up like that.
“This is a serious national issue!”
The general was completely gobsmacked by her nonchalance. His body was still immersed in fear, but his heart was set aflame. He had served his country all his life and vowed to protect it at all cost and that woman just didn’t care. His country had let her live here, protecting her identity from foreign forces, and she couldn’t be bothered to help in times of crises.
“So what?” She repeated. “How is that my problem?”
“You don’t have to do it yourself. Lend us Alice. Or any Stewart.” Sam interjected.
“Enough.”
A scowl appeared on the woman’s face. She had been in a bad mood all day and they had to choose this day to come bugging her. She threw her spoon in the pan, seriously annoyed. She could already feel the slight pang of a headache.
The general felt completely blindsided. His indignation surpassed his fear. His anger anchored him on his feet.
“This is what you owe us! We have let you live free instead of having you locked up in our labs and this is how you thank us? Your freedom is thanks to our charity!” He pointed at her and shouted, as he was seething with rage, “Even if I die here, I’ll make you spit out what you owe us!”
“Then die.”