Everyone in this world suffers from a varying degree of protagonist syndrome. Cogito, ergo sum. The world exists based on my existence, so how can they be the protagonist, when the protagonist can only be myself?
In the living room, a rectangular table made entirely of solid mahogany served as the altar to which four members of an elven family prayed for their lives. They sat with their eyes closed in desperation as they waited for someone to return in the evening.
Strange, this scenario felt oddly familiar.
The room was moderately lit by candlelight and shining crystals. Though it was dinner time, the only meal they can look forward to was the tall glass of drink in front of them. They could physically feel the burn from the smell alone and didn’t dare to look at it, or myself, the one who placed it there. I sat on the seat that allowed me to greet the elf when he enters.
Soon enough, the keys jingled, the lock opened and his voice sounded. He called for his family who didn’t respond. Afterwards, when he took off his shoes and schoolbag, he entered the only room not hampered by sombre darkness.
His parents on the right, his younger sister on the left. The seat closest to the door was pulled back for him, and at the opposite host’s spot was me.
The first one to break the silence was the father. His heartbroken voice ordered his son to sit down and face this situation. Under the mixture of fear and familiarity with his family, the boy obediently did as he was told.
The elves began crying in hysteria. Why did the boy do it? Where did he get the acid from? Who told him to do something like this? What did he think his actions would achieve? How could he place his family into danger by getting involved in these matters?
They never gave him a chance to explain himself. They were convinced by my words on the get-go and driven into mania by my presence and threats earlier. There was no need for me to speak at all, nor did I bother to pay attention to the dribble they were spitting at their son.
I simply waited patiently until the news broke. The father spoke of the punishment I had in mind for the son. Oh, I see those muscles tensing. He’s about to push himself out of the chair and flee. How could his family and I let him be? If he shed the consequences, then it’d be the family who’d suffer my wrath. In the end, the father grappled him onto the ground whilst the mother and sister cried.
Mercy? Forgiveness? That’s asking the victim to suffer the damage and endure the consequences altogether. What a joke.
I climbed on top of the table and stalked forward.
The culprit asked why his family would do such a thing to him. His family asked why he’d hurt others with acid. To sum it up, they were shifting the blame onto one another, even in this situation. But the crucial point was that they never even questioned me.
Because I held the power.
How fucking disgusting. The family was willing to sacrifice a son for their survival just because they were afraid of the aggressor. It was also the parent’s fault that they failed to discipline their son properly. They don’t even try. How should I punish that?
Hmm… the trauma had to be enough. Sunk Cost’s watching and he won’t let me hurt them.
I grabbed the top of his head with my right hand like a crane in a claw crane and lifted him, his legs thrashing like a fish out of water. I thought he’d be of similar age to that elf girl, but it seemed like he was even younger than I imagined; he was shorter than me.
My left hand reached for his lower jaw, twisted his head upwards and forcibly opening his mouth.
One by one, they poured the contents of their glass down his throat.
At first, they made the mistake to pour it slowly, prolonging the torment.
Does he scream? Or does he gurgle? Can they hear it past the sizzling smoke of dissolving flesh?
I didn’t notice the sound around me anymore. I just watched the scene as if it was behind a monitor. The era where I was still a young child, heading to the cinema to watch a horror film for the first time. The peacefulness, the naivety and blissful silence.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The time I’ve lost, I could almost feel it.
The nostalgia I’m looking for wasn’t my past. It wasn’t necessarily returning to Earth or anything.
The fear of death, or rather, the possibility of it.
I was young, watching the alien slowly approaching the viewers as if it was alive.I felt like I could’ve died.
But this wasn’t enough.
The stimulus didn’t last long. The boy can’t handle much more even if I continue to strengthen his regenerative properties. He’d die of malnutrition if that was the case.
The acid was ultimately diluted and excreted out of the boy’s body, but by that time his pupils were dilated and his brain was damaged. The toll of his emotions, coupled with the intensive drainage of water and oxygen to keep his cells regenerating, left a mark on his body.
His cells were dying regardless of my Power.
But he was still alive, and he’ll live on for a few more years at least if he wanted to.
Colour returned into my black-and-white vision alongside the sound of heavy breathing. The elves around me were distressed and traumatised, staring at the barely-breathing body of the boy who bit the bullet.
He bullied the daughter and crippled the mother.
I bullied his family into crippling him.
Perfectly balanced, like all things should be.
----------------------------------------
“Hey Kel’, do you miss mum and dad?”
“Of course.”
“I wonder how they’re doing?”
“Probably celebrating your absence.”
“Rude! I’m the one who brought joy to the house.”
“That’s not how you pronounce trouble.”
“But you’re usually the one in trouble!”
“Because you keep dragging me into it.”
“Ha, you just can’t be honest and say that you actually love me.”
“Shut up sis.”
“Hazel? Do you miss your mum?”
“Oi! You shouldn’t ask that!”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t know how I feel about it. I want to see my mother, but I also want to never see her again.”
“What about your dad? Do you know anything about him?”
“Nope.”
“Why don’t you ask master? I’m sure he’ll be able to find out.”
“Sis, stop poking your nose into other people’s past!”
“I’m just trying to help, though?”
“Well, you aren’t, so shut it, sis.”
“But I can’t sleeeeeeep~”
“Neither can we, because you’re so annoying.”
“My brother is so rude~”
Silence briefly returned to their tent as they laid on their thin sleeping mats. The twins, who were used to comfortable beds and fluffy pillows, twisted and turned in vain to find a comfortable position. The soil was frozen solid, emitting a chilly cold that seeped into their bones.
The inability to rest properly was their most forefront problem at the moment. They needed all the energy and focus they can muster for their training tomorrow. As each night went on, the amount of bruises they accumulated added difficulty to their sleeping and training the next day. But what can they do about it?
“I don’t know if I want to… why should I care for a dad who was never there in the beginning?”
“But aren’t you curious? Don’t you want an answer?”
“I… why are you acting like master, asking all these questions?”
"Hehe~”
“Well it should be my go! Why did you guys become an apprentice?”
“Huh? To get stronger, what else?”
“T-that’s it?”
“I mean, the JanZe are famous in battle! They get to fight monsters and become strong, so I wanted to be one.”
“But why do you want to be strong?”
“Because… I think it’s fun? I just do.”
“Your mistake is assuming my sister thinks at all, Hazel. She’s just an animal following her instincts.”
“My instinct’s telling me to kick you.”
“And you’re going to- ow ow ow, yup… yeah, follow your instinct…”
"What about you, Kelvin?”
"Ow… Ah? I joined because sis joined.”
“Haaaaah?”
“Think about it, if I don’t become one to rein in sis the animal, she’ll run out of control.”
In the darkness, a backpack was thrown at Kelvin’s general vicinity. He caught it and threw it back to where he assumed it came from, landing squarely onto Amelia’s stomach.
“I don’t get it, you guys made such a big decision just like that?”
“You don’t have to get it. It’s our decision, and it works for us. Say, why did you follow master? Isn’t it because you wanted to be strong like us?”
“I… think so. I wanted answers to why my life was a mess and I was lost. I thought coming here and becoming stronger will help.”
“Well, did it help you?”
“I don’t know! I’ve been given things to do but I still feel lost! Why do I feel this way? Can you tell me what this is?”
“How are we supposed to know this stuff? We’re only a year older than you! You should ask master.”
“He’ll just tell me to work it out myself…”
“Just try, maybe he’ll give you a hint.”
Hazel was no stranger to harsh living conditions, however she felt like a stranger amongst these people. The worry that she doesn’t belong here and the fear of abandonment haunted her as she slept.
Any moment now, the flap to their tent would open. Her mother would once again grab her wrists and drag her to somewhere unknown. She’ll have to start again.
To a place where she wouldn’t know anyone. A place where no one would know where she’d be. A place where she won’t be able to ask anyone of anything.
This cycle repeated itself throughout her life. Anytime when she felt hopeful for the future, she’d be warped back to square one. She can’t escape the pattern that defined so much of her childhood. Even now, she felt stuck in this endless loop.
She thought she knew someone, but not really. She thought she knew the place she belonged, but not really. But most importantly:
She thought she’d be asking questions, but not really.
After going through so much, she was too afraid to ask her questions. Hazel was suffocated with despair, trapped in the claustrophobic thoughts of abandonment and rejection.
How could a singular word capture the complexity of this type of fear?