My sleep was poor. Turns out, you sleep terribly after a death threat is made to your best friend. Nightmares stretched to the horizon in my brain when I did fall asleep. Watching Gabriel fall from the building. Imagining myself in Carissa’s room with her, watching a movie like we used to. We’d giggle, eat junk food, whisper secrets to one another. And then everything is set ablaze, and I’m watching her burn. I looked down to my hands, and they were nightmarish black. My fault.
I remember when Carissa cemented herself in my life.
In primary school, I remember not being sure as to what after-school club I should join. I didn’t feel particularly enamoured by anything like other kids were. Stereotypical ‘girls’ activities like the Girl Guides or netball team had no allure to me, nor did things like dance or art club. Had there been a creative writing club, maybe that’s where I would have been drawn to. Without one, however, it looked as if I’d be going home early every day.
To gain intel I tapped Carissa’s shoulder, who was nothing more than my seating partner back then, to ask her what she planned to do. The pale girl jumped, startled and quietly told me she was going to join the choir. It dumbfounded me. She was barely audible in conversation and stammered when reading aloud, and yet she wanted to get up on a stage in front of hundreds of people in a concert hall to sing?
“Can you sing for me?!” I asked, jittery. The enthusiasm stunned Carissa, my teacher stopping mid sentence to give me a bit of a glare. But I didn’t care, I had to see how this shy girl could be a singer.
Obviously, she declined to sing for me there and then. Instead, with a sheepish smile, she told me she would sing for me in the old parade square in school. It was against the school rules to go to the old parade square, so clearly she was more of a rule breaker than her appearance let on. With my adrenaline junkie and daredevil nature triggered by the idea of rebelling a little, we scurried over during recess and she sang for me.
I won’t lie and tell you I remember every detail about the song she sang. I won’t even tell you I remembered the name, but I can never forget the feeling. The enchanting, glorious feeling of being in her presence as she sang.
It was like something out of a musical. She’d sing a note I didn’t know a human could reach, from a love song or something that gave off that mood. She smiled wide and proud of her skill and gently caressed my cheek like a loving mother, as she was completely swept up in the moment. It was like our little bubble of time. Our little space together. By the end of the song, I was shaking, completely enraptured by Carissa’s spirited performance. I couldn’t have controlled my applause if I wanted to.
I wanted to show her something too. I wanted to someday invite her back to the “secret garden” as we called it, and perform something that lit up her soul the same way she did mine. That’s when I joined the drama club to one day be able to ignite those same feelings of amazement she gave me that afternoon. That’s when I discovered a love for all things stage, and the rest is history.
When we graduated from primary school, she came up to me with a necklace. Attached to it was a purple heart. Confused, I took it and asked her what this was for.
“If we don’t go to the same secondary school, this will always remind you of me!” She said with a smile, taking out her own necklace with a purple heart. “Plus, they came in a pair.” She elaborated sheepishly, getting a laugh out of both of us. We went to the same secondary school afterwards, but I don’t think she’s ever gone a day without wearing the necklace, like a good luck charm. She’d hide it under her shirt like a religious necklace in school, and I’d always keep mine in my bag. Even during small windows of arguments we had with one another, neither of us would leave it at home.
In secondary school, when I was stressed out of my mind preparing for my geography paper, she called me to study and prepare me for the exam, which was great considering she was the top geography student in the entire cohort. Issue was it wasn’t much of a study session, rather it was a few hours of me having a panic attack, anxiety riddled page flipping and constant breaks to procrastinate.
“I can’t do this.” I remember whispering to her in the library as I looked at the gibberish in my textbook. A well of frustration brewed inside me as I read and reread the same facts about tectonic plates and monsoon winds, none of which were clicking in my head. I whispered those same words to her over and over and over again until it felt as though I wasn’t in my own body repeating those words..
But it never bothered nor dissuaded her from teaching me. She stuck by me and went through concepts over and over until I got it right. Until I got it confidently. When I needed a break, she was the one who bought me my favourite frappuccino to drink. When I was suffering a panic attack and the threat of failure loomed over me, she took me outside from fresh air, she guided me through breathing exercises, she kept me grounded in reality. The reality that life would be okay. She’d caress my cheek, tell me that life didn’t end after one failure. She’d wipe my face with tissues, stroke that violet heart and tell me “I’m here. It’s alright.”
I would go on to calm her down during maths papers, which she wasn’t very good at, and we’d both laugh when we even bothered attempting to study Chinese together. The blind leading the blind. I can’t ever forget the dinners we’d have after CCA, the ranting about teachers giving too much work, the gossip about other students in our batch (you’re telling me Ming Le did what with Rachel?!) and the shows we’d take each other to. I always attended a choir concert, she’d always attend a drama performance. By the end of the shows, the performer would always be taking home a succulent. She could have started a garden with the plants she accumulated and took care of over the years. I once had her gifted cactus die backstage when I dropped it ten minutes after receiving it.
I do not have a green thumb.
Those were good times, when daily routines and rituals were simple. When I didn’t have to worry that my presence in her life was constantly endangering her. When I didn’t have to lie and say that “I’ll be there!” when I knew I wasn’t going to be. Because I can’t be there. Being there for her means her being endangered. It means she’s as big of a target as I am, if not bigger. If I ever let her know what I did, she’d freak out. She’d constantly feel guilty if she couldn’t help me. She would always want to help even when she couldn’t, and she’d always be at risk of things I may not always be able to prevent.
‘And even though we aren’t always with her and that she still doesn’t know about us, she’s still in danger. What do we do now, Rose?’ My partner rang in my head as we walked to school. The thoughts left little room for sleep, so I was out of the house early.
‘If we tell her now, maybe we can find some way to get the bomb out safely.’
‘If there even is a bomb. Your friend may be purposefully misleading us.’
I thought about correcting Sol, that Ashen was no longer our friend. But I found the words blowing away with a gust in my mind. I didn’t want to accept the reality that he was so far gone. Was I crazy for thinking I could rehabilitate him, that this wouldn’t end with one of us dead?
Yes. Yes I was.
I sighed, rubbing my temples and closing my eyes, letting Sol do most of the seeing.
‘Rose. If we tell her, Ashen might find out. And he may take action. After all, he figured us out. If we don’t she’s at risk and we’re at his mercy. No matter what we do, he seems to have us cornered.’ Sol was hammering away at the marble of his thoughts, trying to sculpt it into a solution that would save Carissa and stop Ashen. We found nothing. Too little information, too much threat.
‘We could have killed him.’
‘No.’ Sol said firmly. ‘You were right before. We don’t have to go down that route just yet. We are better.’
Apocalyptic fire raged within me. I wanted to be so much worse, to cut loose and tear him to pieces. I was confident I could have snuffed the light out from his soul without ever needing to be the Salamander. Students chatted as they walked by me, talking about homework or the latest games. They didn’t need to know about the monster lurking among us, their ignorance was a privilege I so desperately wanted for myself.
Despite the attacks being relatively recent, with empty spaces where living students should be, it all burns to ash in our collective consciousness. School is quieter than it used to be.
“Hello, Salamander.”
I turn around and know exactly who I’m going to see. The burn mark on his face hits me like a freight train. It’s been a while since I’ve really seen Ashen’s flesh, and I can’t help but imagine myself punching his head clean off.
His blue eyes have taken on a disdainful aura, his lips curled slightly into a faint smirk. I scan his entire body. He has bruises on his body I would assume are gifts from his parents, but now I realise they’re from me. Those aren’t marks of abuse, they are distinctly battle scars. He walks to my side with a slight limp, looking me in the eye and gesturing towards the canteen.
It’s surreal walking next to him as if we were just going to go eat a meal together. He takes strides larger than mine, being ever so slightly ahead of me. His hair looks slightly damp, as light gently shines off it as though he were a normal student who took a quick shower before showing up to school, rather than the most vile creature in the building. Then again, I look like a girl who had a bad hair day rather than the world’s most useless superhero, so maybe judging a book by its cover really is a useless endeavour.
It takes an excruciating amount of willpower not to morph and burn a hole through his heart, to shatter every bone in his body and subject him to the most heinous torture I can conjure. I’m not sure whether it’s Sol or Rose who’s holding back right now, but the viscous anger that flows still has not come pouring out.
I buy a drink. He goes to chope a seat.
I hate how normal it feels. Like a lucid dream.
When we sit down, I finally get a good look at Ashen’s face. A wicked gleam shines, and I’m not sure if it had always been there. The canteen is a little deserted at this time of day, and everyone who is here is enraptured in lighthearted conversation and laughter. They will all notice if I became the Salamander. My hands tightly grip onto the table, accidentally leaving a dent on the edge. I bite my tongue, a torrent of thoughts whirling in my head.“You’re the terrorist.” I state as discreetly as possible, my eyes shifting around the room in a panic.
He smiles in response. I want to kill him right now. He has no gear, no preparation, nothing. And I am a literal superhuman, but I can’t. Not here.
The voices in my head have melded together in a messy black sludge, I cannot tell if I’m resisting Sol’s bloodlust, or if I’m urging for them to burn Ashen alive right now. No matter how deafening the cries for violence are, I have to hold back. We are not him. I take a shaky breath, inhaling the scent of a damp morning.
“Why?” I ask, uncomfortably shifting in my seat. Despite the question, I don’t really know what I’m asking for. Why’d he do it? Why is he so different? Or maybe I asked the wrong thing, instead I should have asked how he could do any of this.
I’m searching for any inconsistency in the canteen, maybe someone I don’t recognise or a seat that is inexplicably of a different colour. Anything that would tell me this was all a bad dream. I want nothing but to wake up from this nightmare. But the faint smell of canteen stalls preparing for the students’ breakfast runs, slow rising sun and same old smoothed table tells me I’m stuck in a reality that happens to be a nightmare.
“I needed to prove something.” He stays silent for a bit, a scowl forming as he judges my face. His mouth trembles a bit, like he cannot wait for the words to come out.
“I needed to prove the Salamander could fail.”
“I hated you, without ever knowing it was you. You were some alien, some mutant, someone who spawned out of nowhere and rose to the top of the food chain instantly. It was insulting.”
“I put in real effort. Studying, training, everything all so I could appease my parents and society and every single fucker who looked down on me. And it was never enough. Second in studies, second in athletics, my life’s meaning was to be second place. All to people who were gifted. Zhen Rong, Carissa…” he looked at me with venomous vitriol, “and now you, Salamander.”
He sips from my cup again. I’m this close to tearing out a piece of the table.
“I thought if I could prove the Salamander, this godlike being who came out of nowhere, was as pathetic as everyone else, as pathetic as me.” He lets out a dry laugh.
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I can hear my heart pounding out of my chest, and yet his heartbeat is as calm as ever. He has to know I can decimate him right here if I wanted to.
But, he just knows I won’t.
“First, I had to find the Salamander. And wouldn’t you know it, it was Rose the whole time. Suddenly athletic, suddenly awake in every class, suddenly dressing bright and cheery in pictures. Don’t think I didn’t notice. Don’t think you were ever discreet about it. Because that’s what happens when you’re spectacular. You flaunt it in front of the people like me, who are doomed to mediocrity.” The venom he was spewing with every word was evident. He found me repulsive.
“Ashen, you don’t have nothing. You-”
“Shut the hell up. I don’t want to hear it. It’s not good enough. All my work, my plans, everything, and you’re still kicking. Still around.” I noticed he had dropped the Singlish completely from his speech, had that all been an act? To be more like us? Secretly, was his friendship with Zhen Rong and us all a facade? Has he hated us since we first met?
“So I struck where I knew you were. I wanted you to fail at what heroes should do: saving people. I wanted to give you the same hope I’d feel whenever I thought I was good enough, only to absolutely crush it.” It was subtle, but a smile of pride appeared on his face momentarily.
‘“But first, I had to find the Salamander. And wouldn’t you know it, it was Rose the whole time. Suddenly athletic, suddenly awake in every class, suddenly dressing bright and cheery in pictures, don’t think I didn’t notice. Don’t think you were ever discreet about it. Because that’s what happens when you have power. You flaunt it. You laugh at the people who have nothing.” The venom he was spewing with every word was evident. He found me repulsive.
“I wanted you to fail at what heroes should do: saving people. I wanted to give you the same hope I’d feel whenever I thought I was good enough, only to absolutely crush it.” It was subtle, but a smile of pride appeared on his face momentarily, like a bully proud of the pain he inflicted on his victims.
‘If you don’t kill him now, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. Do not let him keep talking.’ I want Sol to shut up more than ever. They need to shut the hell up. A ringing in my ear begins as I try my best to tune out Sol’s rage as their alluring voice lures me into a place of darkness I would never come back from.
“But that’s not all, you know? What do you think is going to happen to me when I’m inevitably caught for all this?” He smiled, as if he had always had it planned to be caught by law enforcement or by me this entire time.
“You’d be locked up for life. Or get the death penalty. Or-”
“You’d kill me! Yes!” My eyes began to have a faint red tint, I could see it in the reflection in his exuberant eyes, a psychotic smile forming on his face.
“Exactly! I’d crush your hope yes, but you know who I really want to crush? Not you, Salamander, but my parents! Mother and father! I want them to suffer the rest of their lives knowing they created a monster! A monster who never lived up to how great they wanted him to be, and instead turned out as malevolent as the two of them! Do you see it?” He was giddy by this point, his voice trembling with excitement, dripping with hunger.
“Yes, your failure will be delicious to watch! But the thought of my parents regretting the past eighteen years of their life, moulding the worst person to ever walk this Earth? That is enough to make me feel happiness for the first time in my life!” The mask was fully off, he spoke as though his words would materialise the sick fantasy into reality.
“Everyone will know! They’ll all know how sick in the head I was, how awful mother and father was! It was never just about you, no, I just needed you to create the ultimate show to hurt those bastards the most! You’re no more poor of a victim than those kids in Lucky Plaza!” His excitement is still a whisper, as if he’s sharing good news to a close friend. The whir of the fan above me is mundane, the poor teaching intern grabbing his first kopi of the day is so normal it hurts. How does the world keep turning in the face of this monster?
I deftly backhand him, his body sprawling towards the right side of the bench as he grabs the edge of the seat for stability. Everyone has turned their heads towards us. No one is making a sound. He pulls himself back up, smile still plastered on his face.
“Walao, haha! Eh, come on… nothing serious one!” He laughed and thinly smiled, showing everyone he was alright, the red from his face already dissipating back to his normal pale colour. That settles it, he has augmented himself in some way, I did not hit that lightly.
“Yes yes yes, it’s beautiful… oh, I felt that. But you were holding back. I know you were.” He returned to a whisper. “You must understand, Salamander. You are the only one who could.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you hate reading the expectations everyone has for you online? The expectation to act in this or that way? Everyone expects you to save everyone, yet at the same time they hate you for even daring to exist here? You get it don’t you? The hypocrisy of expectation? How much our little friend group discusses you in front of us, how much they idolised yet feared you? How much the internet wants you gone yet wants you here to clean up the messes I make? They call the Salamander a villain, Rose. Don’t you want to give them one?”
I sit and stew in anger, the blaze inside me growing and festering into a reckless and berserk eruption. The more he speaks, the harder it is to control my emotions. I can barely even disagree, the night I almost killed that petty thief flashing before my eyes with every slimy word that dribbles out his mouth.
“You’re delusional. I’m nothing like you.” I hissed at him. Taken aback a little, he chuckles and finally looks me dead in the eye. He notices the glowing red but doesn’t say a word, he has no desire to out me right now to the canteen. To everyone. If he had goaded me any further, we may not have controlled ourselves even among normal people. My neck burns so much, Sol is screaming at me to morph and kill him. But I’m still in a crowd, so I have to sit still and take it. Faintly, I can feel the sun begin to rise, the lights above us are being turned off as the natural sunlight illuminates the canteen. More kids showing up as some leave for the assembly hall.
The world is moving as per normal, uncaring as to our conversation.
His hand reaches out to drink from my cup. This time, I grip his hand before he can take another sip. Any more force and I will break his hand. I could go further and leave it irreversibly damaged. Against my better judgement and Sol’s advice, I don’t. But I’m not sure how much longer this is going to last.
“Why are you telling me this? Any of this?” I ask, trying my luck.
“Because I want to give you hope. So I can crush it. As you or your drama friends would say, this is closing night.” He reaches into his bag, digging for something lackadaisical, relishing the moment. He pulls out a switch from his pocket, looking the exact same as the one he used to trigger remote explosives in Lucky Plaza.
“This remote is the opposite of my other. It shuts down a bomb that’s already been set up. This bomb will go off at 9 P.M. tonight. It’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever built. You’d be surprised what some stolen parts, cheap parts from various online shopping websites and basic engineering can do.” The imagery of Ashen stealing chemicals and equipment from his dad and the science lab flashed in my head, as if every piece of the puzzle was finally coming together. I desperately try to snatch the remote from him, but he quickly pulls away and stands up, creating a small amount of distance.
“Meet me at 8 P.M to fight me and retrieve the remote to stop the bomb. I’ll be in my Sunday best, I’d advise you to be too.” His smile never leaves his face, that condescending look of superiority on his face is completely foreign to me. For once in Ashen’s life, he truly believes he’s the best, that he has finally conquered what he needed to conquer to feel whole.
“Where do we meet and where is the bomb?”
“Don’t be stupid. You know where it is.” He points at the front pocket of my bag where I keep the purple heart necklace.
My eyes have unapologetically begun glowing a deep red. Swiftly, I stood right up, finally getting the sense of how much he towered over me. With an aggressive thump, I hit against the bench, which knocks into him just a little and sends him to the ground. Enough to make it look like a mistake. I can tell that everyone’s gaze is on me, but I don’t care. My hands tremble with fury, tears have begun to trickle out of my eyes as the back of my neck burns in anticipation for me to transform and rip this filth into pieces.
“If you even so much as touch her I will burn you so fucking bad you won’t be recognisable as a corpse.” I threaten quietly, to which he infuriatingly giggles like an innocent schoolboy, glancing around the room. I take a look at him and realise just how much of a scene I’m causing. Some people have begun video taping my freak out, and that’s enough to bring me to my senses. No one got a glimpse of my eyes thanks to where my table is located, but it was still a close call.
“All this power,” he says as he points at his eyes, “and you won’t do what you have to. I was like that too. I always worked hard, played fair, never got anywhere. People were born more athletic than me like Zhen Rong, more passionate like Carissa, or came into power they didn’t earn like you.” I anxiously check my skin, making sure it’s still skin and not scales.
“It’s been fun giving you hope. It’s been more fun crushing it. I know you knew it was me from the beginning, Salamander. You hoped it wouldn’t be me, didn’t you? You didn’t want me to be behind that mask, did you? But you should understand that not everyone is as they seem… Rose.”
“Now, I’m giving you the last hope, because I’m going to be caught soon, and I’m not super. I’ll be caught and tried and probably executed for my crimes. But I want you to suffer with me, Salamander. I want you to watch as your world burns with you. To know that as much as you tried, you will fail miserably. Even knowing that, you will fight me at 8 P.M. tonight. You will watch Carissa die. I will end you. I will finally be at peace with myself.” His cursed smile never faded, its complacency never dissipating.
“How do I know you aren’t lying about any of that?” I crush the empty cup of milo, mind scrambling a plan to get Carissa to safety whilst I handle the fight. Shit, there’s no way a bomb like that only kills Carissa. What about her family? Other residents? I have to save them all. And what if he’s lying? What if it’s a trap? I’m not sure I can even take the chance. He’s been far too upfront so far, his eyes are arrogant yet strangely empty, as if Ashen had died already and tonight was the night he made his body match his spirit.
“You’re not in a position to believe otherwise.”
The sound of quick footsteps hit both our ears. I recognise the heat signature approaching. I gulp, brain still wrapping itself around my predicament.
“Guys! Are you ok?” She looked over at my tear stained cheeks and then at Ashen on the ground, slowly picking himself up. “A-are you both okay? What happened?”
“Yes, I’m okay. Thank you, Carissa, always so sweet. Just had a bit of a fall, bit careless today eh. She knocked the table on accident, then I went flying, ahah!” He feigned a smile that made me want to punch all the teeth out of his mouth right there. “Come on, let’s go for assembly.” He says nonchalantly, putting up a front that’s more believable than what the reality of the situation actually is. I’m extremely thankful for the drama club for giving me the experience in acting ever since I’ve become a hero, but especially now so.
“What’d you guys talk about?” She asked, looking concerned towards Ashen limping away. I gritted my teeth, not sure how to respond. “Are you okay? You look pale.” Her eyes see right through me, and mine see through her.
My neck burns, I don’t know what to do. If I tell Carissa about the bomb threat, maybe I could save her; but the only way she’d believe that insane story is if I reveal my identity.
But Ashen could be lying.
I want to cry.
There’s an inescapable ringing that digs itself into my ears, the thumps of my heart now being the loudest thing in the crowded canteen. The other sources of noise drown out. I want to clutch onto something, anything.
Is anyone looking at me? No one is. Good, great. No, yes. I don’t know. I don’t dare to look around. I want to pull things apart, smash them, burn down forests to feel powerful again. I want to feel in control.
“Rose? Hey, Rose? Is everything okay?” I can barely hear Carissa. I feel her hand touch mine, gently caressing it and rubbing my fingers. In my blurred haze of vision, I can barely see Carissa. It’s like looking at a ghost.
In Carissa’s face I see the charred face of the teenager from the Lucky Plaza attack, I imagine a merger of their faces, now Carissa’s is charred black and lifeless.The canteen shifts back to a roaring fire and collapsing infrastructure, of shops that are being turned to battlefields then reduced to cinders, of life being lost under my watch.
I see Gabriel in the corner of my eye. I feel like I’m falling again, like I’m reaching out to save him again. I imagine his body hitting the floor. I imagine the HDB flat again, that rooftop again. I feel the burden of the world on me.
“I’m sorry. I need- I need to go. I’m so sorry,” I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes and the nausea permeating every cell in my body. I vaguely hear Carissa calling me as I run off to the nearby bathroom to sort out my thoughts. My legs move on their own, I can barely see. I can’t swallow through the panting.
I need space.