"Sir, it's possible your son has Tuberculosis…"
"No, the tests showed no signs of Tuberculosis, possibly something else… we have to test some more."
"We're sorry sir, we… could not figure out the cause of the bleeding…"
"Sir, I'm afraid to tell you… I do not know how to help your son…"
"Sir, we're sorry. We tried our best…"
"Ma'am, there is something different about your son…"
"Uh… umm Ma'am… I'm sorry, your son is just… I'm sorry."
"All I can say is… his heart weakens drastically when he exerts his body, running for example… so he should be fine with minimal activities."
"He's sick."
"He's strange."
"Your son-"
"Ma'am, I'm sorry-"
"The reason's unknown-"
"The bleeding-"
"He-"
"We can't help him-"
"Go to someone el-"
“Ugh, you again-“
“Look, your son’s just abnormal—”
The voices and images of the doctors speaking to the child’s parents as he sat silently and faced the window with the patients’ gown disappeared gradually into an endless void.
The creaking sound of the cradle swaying was the only thing heard in the void. When the infant opened his icy blue eyes, he found an endless white world, nothingness.
Closed his eyes again, going back to sleep. The cradle calmly swayed left and right endlessly.
Open again, white.
Close.
Again.
Again.
Again…
The cradle stopped. After the long silence, the infant opened his eyes— finding familiar scribbled figures creeping above him from all directions, circling him with wide eyes, and many smiling or just staring.
Suddenly came a white noise, a loud one.
Then silence.
An endless silence.
----------------------------------------
The Red Flower
Chapter. 19
----------------------------------------
Slowly opening his eyes to bleary gray hues, he got a clear view of a white ceiling, a stilled curtain, and an open window with nothing outside but light. It was so silent, leaving one paranoid and time frozen. Davante pushed himself up tiredly. He sat in the bed in an empty hospital room, wearing the patients’ gown. Everything was white. After observing his surroundings, he realized…. it wasn't that the place was white.
Nothing had any color except himself and the green light above the closed door. He turned to the open window. There wasn't any sky outside.
However, there was light and shadow; everything felt real but not at the same time.
He slowly and silently moved his legs to stand on the cold floor. For some reason, he was cautious about letting out any sound even though there wasn't anyone around. He looked at the closed door, eying it for a minute before going to grab the knob. He twisted it, and it was open. He opened the door slowly, and it creaked loudly in the quiet place, which silently startled him a little bit.
Before him was a long, empty passage, still colorless.
He put one step forward and slowly put the other; he started to walk along the only path. He walked in complete silence. He gradually brought his hands around him and felt a shiver, cold. The place felt so cold.
After who knows how long, the passage ended with a plain closed door similar to the one he got out from; however, it had a red light above instead of green. There wasn't anywhere else to go; it was a narrow path from the small room he was in to this one. He carefully walked to grab the knob.
Just when he twisted the knob, he heard a snipping sound. One after another, as if someone was calmly cutting something off with scissors. He pushed it open slowly, creaking loudly again, alerting the mouthless scribbled figure behind the door.
Davante had little time to notice the film strips all around the white floor and circling the mouthless figure as if locking him in place. The scribbled and colorless Davante was holding scissors, so it was apparent he was cutting the film strips repeatedly for some reason; Davante thought it was to free itself from them since they kept spinning around him. Upon raising his face a little to meet the figure’s wide eyes, he realized it was the one he often sees sometimes that no one could see. He didn't know what to name it, but one thing was for sure; the figure looked precisely like Davante; it was Davante himself, just mouthless, colorless, and scribbled.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The figure turned slowly to fully face Davante. In a blink of an eye, there were duplicates of the figure all around him; all looked the same, except they had mouths drawn on their faces, unlike that one mouthless figure. And the film strips were gone.
They were all looking at him, some even pointing at him.
Davante is usually calm most of the time; he has learned to stay level-headed no matter the situation, but not this time. He felt so creeped out. Some of them were smiling, some glaring, some even laughing, but he couldn't hear a thing even when their mouths moved.
A choking silence.
He stood still with wide, alarmed eyes. He couldn't hear a thing; they all surrounded him, moving their lips and talking, maybe even yelling at him. But they were still in their places, keeping a distance from him as if he were the odd one.
A scribbled hand grabbed his neck from behind to pull him back roughly.
Gasp—
He woke up with the echo of his own gasp in the quiet room again. He clutched his shirt above his thumping heart, and he brought his hand to his neck as the feeling of the hands choking him a second ago was still there. His breathing calmed down a bit; he pushed himself up slowly to stand in front of the closed door, finding the green light still above.
Silence. Loud silence.
He twisted the knob, expecting to find the same empty path. He was met with a long one but with many closed doors on both sides this time.
He cautiously eyed the doors before reluctantly moving silently along the path; he felt he shouldn't open any door, no matter what. When he reached the end of the passage, there was a wall; the room of the mouthless figure from moments ago was nowhere to be seen. He slowly, very slowly turned his head to peek behind his back and was met with all doors open slightly, and each door stood a scribbled duplicate of him behind it. They all stared at him silently with crazed eyes.
It was quick, but their eyes on him made him cower in place, and they immediately slammed their doors close soon after, leaving him alone. He heard his heart beating fast and loud in the silence, enough to be heard by the other figures behind the doors with red lights above. Rubbing his cold arms together, he stood still with wide eyes before he walked carefully yet hurriedly to his room on the opposite side of the path and closed it immediately, careful not to let out any sound.
There wasn't a lock; he couldn't lock it. He trembled slightly but quickly forced himself calm and went to bed. He lay down on his left side so that he could watch the door. He was aware he was quite paranoid by now, and he couldn’t help it.
Gradually he got tired of forcing his eyes to stay open and focused on the door and felt his eyes closing despite his struggles.
He opened his eyes to find himself still in the same room. He noticed that he was sleeping on his back. He put his hand on his throbbing head, silently staring at the door again.
He walked to the door carefully, staring at it before twisting the knob again. He pulled it open slowly but was suddenly dragged from the other side and slammed the door close. Davante flinched and froze in place. He caught the sound of a loud click from behind the door. He slowly backed away from the locked door. He turned to the window behind his back when he heard gasps coming from it.
Walking cautiously to the window, he was met with a very familiar room. The small dark room. And he found himself as a child, curled up and clutching his head, trembling and panting in the dark.
“You—” He knows; he knows exactly what the child is going through at that moment. “Wait—” He was about to jump through the open window and get the child out of the room, “I’ll get you out of—”
He was suddenly pulled back by several scribbled hands all over his body from behind.
He managed to open his eyes, blinking many times, yet his vision remained blurry.
He felt incredibly tired as he lay on his back on the bed. He turned his head to the door with the green light above; it was open this time. He closed his heavy eyelids. He opened them again to a colorless room.
He blinked slowly.
Figures were all around him and above his head, staring down at him. For some reason, they looked agitated, yelling and shouting at him with no voice coming from them.
But he was tired…
His eyes slowly closed.
He suddenly jumped from his sleep with a loud gasp. He quickly pushed himself up, holding back his panting and gasping as he cautiously and silently tried to look where he was; it was so dark, nothing to see. However, the feel of the floor beneath him and the stuffy air around him was too familiar. He widened his eyes, ‘No window… dark room… don’t tell me this room…’ he started panicking, unknowingly hyperventilating, ‘No… no, no, no, no, no—’
"Help me…"
He jerked his head to the source of the voice close by his side; he knew that voice; of course, he did— his own weak voice from years ago.
"…hungry… let me… out…"
Davante knew more than anyone else the hunger of the trembling child; he really knew… but had nothing to feed him, just like before.
He quickly pushed himself up to his feet and walked with his hands hovering over the walls in the dark, eyes wide and hyper-focused. 'The door…’ frantic and trembling, "I-I'll get you out of here…"
‘I know it's close somewhere over here…' His hands reached a bump, and he instantly felt relieved. Turning to the child with a tired smile, “Found it! We can use the guard outside to—”
He flinched when he felt a sharp pain in his right ankle. He turned his head down to observe in the dark what it was. It kept hurting him more and more until he heard the squelching sounds… he began sweating and panicking again; the pain was long forgotten as he became aware of the situation. "No— Wait… No, you can't— Stop!"
The child got another bite of Davante's leg and another squelch. He could feel the hot tears of the child on his skin as he ate his leg. Voice trembling, “No…” the child kept eating…
"STOP!!!"
Gasp—!
He jumped from his sleep and immediately looked at his legs; they were okay. However, he was still panting, not calming down even after looking at them. His trembling hands rubbed his leg to ensure it was okay, not trusting his eyes. He slowly pulled his knees to his chest, trembling and panting more with each passing second. He was back again in the white room. This time, the door and the curtains both closed. He noticed the light above the door was yellow. His breathing was loud in the quiet place.
'They are listening… I should calm down… calm down.'
Knock, knock—
His body jolted, and his shivers got worse. Someone knocked at the door. He was sure it was the figures. He remained silent and closed his eyes shut.
Suddenly many knocks were heard nonstop from the door, all calm yet loud.
He trembled in silence, covering his ears as he felt so close to crying.
He let out a voice so weak.
"Please… stop…"
The knocks stopped.
He soon heard whispers. They wouldn't stop. He remained still, and… eventually, the whispers got so loud that he was starting to finally lose his mind.
'Stop…'
'Stop… please…'
'Please…'
He didn’t bother that he was crying silently now, gritting his teeth to stifle his cries while still covering his ears with his trembling hands, even though he knew there was no point in doing so as the whispers got louder and louder the more he tried to force himself to calm down and block their loud whispers in his mind.
He felt a warm small hand patting his head, resting on someone’s lap. He slowly started to relax a little by the gentle humming above him. And the whispers drifted away.
"Emmie…" he called weakly with a trembling voice.
'Right… you were the one who calmed me down when I had nightmares…'
"I'll always be with you… Davante."
He heard her say with her usual calm tone. He sniffled slightly, 'Then why… why did you throw me into all this mess?'
'Is this funny to you?'
'WHY—'
He wanted to shout out but couldn't, and the whispers came back louder than ever with the shrieking noise. The gentle hand on his head disappeared. He hugged his knees to his chest tighter and cried silently again.
"Please open your eyes… you have to." said a hushed and gentle voice. All sounds around him disappeared with the soft voice of a woman. He didn't know when he was pulled into her lap like a child, but… it calmed him down immediately.
"You are in control, not them, not the noise.”
The woman caressed his cheek softly.
“Listen to him. He’s calling for you again… you have to open your eyes…"
'Who…?'
"Can you open your eyes for me…?"
He brought his tired hand to grab the soft dress of the woman.
He wasn’t sure if he felt a gentle kiss on his forehead.
He slowly opened his eyes to look at the woman, finding crimson eyes looking down at him sadly.
"Mo… ther…"
His vision drifted, and soon…
He was met with a startled Alvis looking down at him, tears falling from his wide eyes as he looked in panic yet relief. The man gasped weakly at the look of icy eyes fully open now. Alvis stared silently at the blood and tear-stained face of the teen. Davante didn't get a moment to understand what was happening before he was pulled up and hugged tightly by the man, who kept mumbling to himself while ruffling the teen’s hair.
"Oh my god… oh god you're back… you're back… you're…"
Alvis was trembling so hard it made Davante even more confused, but he was too tired to ask any question now, and… he tiredly hugged the man back.
Unbeknownst to Davante, his back was drenched with blood.
.
.
“There was a time in my life when I felt nothing but darkness… I was damaged, ruined…” a pale finger hovered over the picture drawn on the rusty page; a picture of a child clutching his head and a plate with an arm inside lay before him. “Nothing scarier than dark silence. Unspoken loud thoughts could kill their owner. I wasn’t in my right mind in that room.”
The pale hand flipped the page, “That room… was where I died once. I’ve lost myself in there, was so afraid to remain dead in the dark…” the hand moved over to another drawing of the same child, hugging his knees and looking up at a scribbled person that looked the same as the child but older, caressing the child’s cheek. “Their voices were like a safety blanket to me, so I listened to them, seeking their guidance…”
Turning the page, “‘They helped me get out of that room’… a pity lie I created. All I did was I sat still, never reached the door, never looked for the window…” looking at the drawing of the child sitting silently and hugging his knees, unmoving. “And forced my mind to become familiar with the dark. Listening clearly now… their voices were nothing but a dark shrieking noise.”
Thud—
The heavy book with rusty and bloody pages closed and remained carried by the pale hands. “At last, I can comfortably close this book.” The colored, mouthless person looking like a copy of Davante but with fancy clothes instead, sighed as he looked in a direction. “I’m glad you can see the real me now.”
----------------------------------------
The End of CH. 19