"We have problems that can't be shared through words but can be translated through art"
SECOND'S / HEAVIEN'S POV
The knife I got was the second smallest because that was all that was left. What First got was the smallest one. I don't know why he took that, but he looks satisfied with it. The countdown is over, and the game begins.
"Hya!"
"Ah!"
I got startled by Rochevel's sneeze then she ran away. The mischievous boy, Jeremy pointed a knife near her that made her runaway.
"Ha-ha! Come to me. I'll end all of your sufferings!" he said while swaying his knife at us. He started attacking everyone he comes across to.
"C'mon!" First pulled my right hand and we ran up to the second floor.
Jeremy looks desperate to win. He holds the biggest knife, and it looks terrifying. As we hid next to a bedroom, my hands are sweating holding First's hand. I'm getting nervous. It should no longer be biased, and we should only side with ourselves but First is still helping me.
"Shhh," he pressed his index finger to his lip.
We heard footsteps going up. I saw a boy's shoes. I bit my tongue to avoid unnecessary noise to make. Gradually, the boy approached and...
"It's the two of you. I thought it was the idiot," I breathed a sigh of relief to see Brenille's face.
"Look out!" First said.
*booogsh*
"Crap!" – First
I was startled when a knife flew at us and hit the side of my left ear.
"Come on, that jerk is after us!" – Brenille. He must be referring to Jeremy.
The three of us ran downstairs where the others were last seen.
"Heavien!" Rochevel ran over and hugged me. I can feel her heartbeat.
"Hmp, I see what ya'll do there. Ya'll teaming up, huh?" Jeremy had also come down to meet us with murderous intent.
He ran closer to the two of us. He raised his knife.
"What's wrong with you, Nilo? The neighbors might have heard us," mama disobeyed papa.
"This has nothing to do with you!"
"That's enough!"
Nothing new. It's always like this in our house. My father is always hurting our four pet dogs. When he gets angry and releases his emotions, abusing our pets will be his way of coping. This is the scene at home whenever my parents have conflicts. This is the scene when they have not yet separated. When my father started to be aggressive, his fight with mama became more frequent. One afternoon, when I came home from school, I didn't expect him to try to hurt physically my mama. And because of that, he accidentally stabbed mama in the side with a kitchen knife.
"Stop!" my brother restrained our father and threw the knife away.
I supported mama who is bleeding and immediately called an ambulance. Mama almost disappeared from us, but her condition is still critical due to the illness of overwork. Because of what happened, I feel agonized seeing someone hurt. When they separated, my father lived in the province, and my mama, brother, and I remained in the city. I don't like it all because I see my mama crying and having a hard time. It was all because of my father who did nothing but forget that he had a family. He got tired of us and said that his responsibility as our father is over. He maintains his good image to other people but can't treat his family right. His outside actions contradict what he says and do to us inside a closed roof. My brother took a part-time job to aid mama at home, especially since mama is now limited to work. He also tolerated a serious leg injury that's why he can no longer do martial arts. He was so passionate about it when he was in high school, but he quit. My brother is one of the pillars that I hold onto. But seeing him hopeless at times, makes me ask myself what I can do for him. In recent years, I have experienced hardship. The persevere I put into studying to graduate, the suffering of not having everything I wanted as a teenager, and the hardship without an ideal father to support us. These are some of my major problems in life. I don't have much to say about my life affair anymore. My classmates and friends who I don't want to talk about my life, my brother who is busy with both study and work, and my mama who is sick. I pour all my emotions into drawing and painting. We have problems that can't be shared through words but can be translated through art. And there's nothing wrong with keeping problems to yourself but too many of them can destroy you. That feeling should be expressed by any means we deem possible and prefer.
"Heavien, proceed to my office to discuss your participation in the art contest."
One day I was called to the faculty room by the teacher to discuss the art contest. I was painting in the art room because my teacher wanted to see my work before I entered the contest. I have also been excused for another subject that I will not be attending. What I thought to paint on the canvas was a woman's face. Her face is serious and calm but there was a certain reflection in her eyes. I want it to be a simple painting but deep in meaning.
"Just a little bit and I'll be done," I whispered to myself.
"What's with those eyes?"
"Hm? Ah, those eyes? Behind the woman's serious and calm face, there's a deep sigh-" I turned to the one who just spoke. "P-Presi?" He startled me that I almost hit the easel when I saw him standing behind me as I sat and painted. His face looks undisturbed as he looked at my canvas oil painting.
"What was it again?"
We've been talking a bit. It's been a few weeks since I asked him if he plays the piano.
"Oh, okay. Her eyes, even if her face is serious and calm, in your own eyes you can see how a person really feels. In this woman's eyes, she feels resentful and sorrowful. At first glance, it is not noticeable, but if she opens her mind and heart to you, there you will know the truth."
Did I explain it right? Ahh, I don't know anymore but that's how I interpret my own work. It'll be up to him if he can understand the meaning behind it but painting interpretations differ from one person to another. I'll handle his criticism then. There was a moment of silence as he stares at my painting.
"I'll take that," his questioning eyes narrowed.
"Hm?" I asked for clarification of what he just said.
"I'm asking if the teachers will confiscate that painting."
"Huh? Not really. This one's a draft. The teachers will check this first and if I pass to their standards, they'll include me in the contest." Yes, I'm not yet officially an art contestant for the finale. It'll be a regional art competition that's why the teachers are meticulous. And this painting draft will be my initial entry for the elimination round.
"Good"
"Why?"
"I'll buy that"
Surprised but I agreed. I told him I can give it to him for free as a thank you gift for being an acquaintance that we tend to talk about occasionally and for being my first potential buyer. I would also like to thank him for running the class since he became the class president. His platforms for our class are great in that we can see improvement and gets recognition.
"You're an artist and you sold your work to me that's why I should pay." And that's the reason he then left me in the art room after he bought my painting.
When I opened the envelope that must contain some cash, my eyes widened when I saw a large amount of it. This is my first time holding big cash like this. And my first-time obtaining money of this amount. He said that it was still lacking because the paintings should be expensive, but I didn't demand them anymore. I would have returned the fee, but he insisted. This had me so excited that I earned from something I love to do. The president is indeed ridiculously rich. Rumors had it right. How come a 16-year-old student roams around the campus and carries cash of this worth like him? Anyway, I can help my mama and brother with this.
I was grinning the whole time when he entered the art room again. I got shy so I hid the money. Oh, he's looking at the painting again. I can't hand it over to him yet because the teachers will check it first for confirmation. I got too carried away that I already have the money in me.
"Uhm, as for the painting. The teachers will come here later for checking. You might claim it tomorrow or maybe the day after it," I said to him. Hope he understands.
"Sure, no problem." That relieved me. "What's your inspiration for that?" I guess chitchat like this with my first customer is normal since he bought it already.
"The truth of the matter is, I had the inspiration to paint this woman with mysterious eyes because of you, President." He was confused at what I said and didn't immediately get what I meant. "When I saw you in the classroom and when I asked you if you play the piano, then I saw your eyes. It was calm but mixed with sadness."
"Is that so?"
"Yes"
"Then I'm glad to be part of your painting." I smiled at what he said. Who would've thought that my buyer would be one of my painting inspirations? Funny how coincidental it has been but I'm glad to entrust my painting to him. Before he left, he asked me again. "By the way, what's the title of your painting?"
I thought about it because it doesn't even have a title other than it's not finished yet. He's right, there must be a title for it. What would fit the most? I might consider a phrase or just a word? It took me several minutes then something came to me.
"Silence. Silence is the title of my painting!"
"Why though?"
"Because silence has the loudest cry"
***
"Mr. President, here it is," I handed him an extra lunch meal. I'm getting an intimidating vibe from him that's why I call him by his class position. I guess it won't bother him.
"What's that?" he asked frowning and closing the book he was reading.
It's lunchtime and I went to the library. They said that he was often there when he was not busy and that he rarely ate lunch because he is a busy person.
"Rice and a dish. My mom and I cooked it. When we received the money, my mama and brother wanted to thank you so the only way we give back is through this lunch box." I hope he'll appreciate this. He's ridiculously rich and this simple dish might not suit his liking. My mama suggested cooking a dish for him as a thank you gift. At first, I hesitated but mama insisted.
We are grateful to him because at that time we were really in need of money. Days have been tight, so that was a huge help to our family.
"Y-You don't have to do that," He must be embarrassed like me right now.
"Please! Mama and I can't sleep if you don't accept it." I actually bowed in front of him so that he would accept that. My mother threatened me that if I didn't give it to him, she would be sad, so I felt guilty.
"Okay, if that's what you want." I smiled broadly when he took it. I would have said goodbye to him when he had something more to say. "But in one condition ..."
"Mm?" He has his conditions set on me. What could it be?
"You'll eat with me"
Those fateful meetings with First were memorable. Of all the people who have seen my painting, he was the only one who questioned me about its eyes. He might not directly have the same interpretations as mine, but I know that he relates to the meaning behind my painting. Aside from making it a visual presentation of my emotions and thoughts, I also portray the girl in the painting.
"Ahhh!"
"Ugh!"
My attention returned to what was happening now. I stumbled upon Rochevel.
"Are you alright?" I asked her.
"Yes, b-but First is ..." she raised his head.
I moved my hands when I felt something wet on the floor. I looked at it and it was red... where's First? I lifted my head and saw First's right arm is bleeding! Thirzen is holding his big knife with blood on it.
"Bwahaha! Playing hero, huh?" said Jeremy with a wicked voice.
First didn't say a word and just pressed his bleeding arm while staring into Jeremy's mischievous eyes. What if Jeremy's knife is the one that contains poison among the seven?!
"Run," First whispered to us.
"No-"
"I said run. I'll deal with this one"
Rochevel clung to my arm. The two of us were still sitting and feeling what was going to happen. Rochevel pulled me away to run but I can't leave First all alone with Jeremy.
"Please, I swear I'll be back. And please come back safe... Heavien."
Something tickled my heart when I heard my name called by his deep voice. I nodded to him and held back the tears. I ran with Rochevel, then I noticed that the others had moved away.
"Hey, you two! I'm not done with you!" Jeremy shouted and was about to chase us when First blocked him.
"Kill me first"
I closed my eyes without seeing what happened next. I also struggled to be deaf without hearing any groan of pain. Rochevel and I ran until we found a hiding place. We sat while catching our breaths. That was the first time I heard from First's mouth that he called me by my real name. Maybe, I should call him by his name as well. I close my eyes when I think about his situation. As much as possible I don't want to see such a scene again. I get scared every time I see someone hurt. I get hurt when someone is hurting because of me.
Rochevel and I are here in the kitchen. We just sat on the floor as she hugged me. Her hands trembled holding the knife that was the third largest. She also showed me her marking on the chest and that was 'Jupiter'. Maybe our new markings have to do with planets. I first laid my knife on the floor and rested for a while. I found out that Jeremy is the one who manipulates Neinuko's shadow at 1:00 am because:
First, one extra bedroom for a boy. This indicates that another player will join. Also, our rooms are arranged by number names. And because between Brenille (Third) and Trake's (Ninezen) room is the extra room; Fifth, Seventh, Eleventh, Thirzen, Fifzen, and Sixzen; one of our fallen friends is the new player between Brenille and Trake's number names.
Second, an extra seat in the dining area. There are only six of us but why there are seven seats?
Third, there is a shadow. The shadow is Neinuko's figure. At the appearance of that monster, two victims died, Eleventh and Jeremy. We buried Eleventh's body, but Jeremy's body remained missing, so there was a chance he was still alive.
Fourth, that shadow appears exactly at one o'clock in the morning. He doesn't show up at that specific time for fun, but it's because of the clock. A clock has 12 numbers. When the hour hand points to one, it has two meanings. It's either back to one or it starts at number thirteen. First is alive so he can't be the new player. It is also possible that the clock represents us, the 24 players. 24 hours = 24 players.
"Heavien"
I turned to Rochevel. "Mm?"
"What's going on there? Maybe First is already done. Can we go out?" she asked softly.
I was silent for a while because I was worried about First and the others as well.
"Can you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Maybe the best thing is, I'll just go to the living area, and you'll stay here in the kitchen first. I'll come back to you when everything's okay."
"But it's dangerous out there alone"
"It will be more dangerous if the two of us will go out. Stay here and make no noise, okay?"
She nodded and hugged her knees.
"Be strong," I told her, and she gave me a hug.
"Be careful, Heavien"
"Mm," I nodded. "Keep your knife just to make sure"
After saying goodbye, I prayed before finally leaving the kitchen and walking slowly to the living area where First and Jeremy had fought earlier. Nervous though, I have to be steady. Rochevel might not handle to do this, so I volunteered myself. We have to make our move soon. I don't know what will happen if I don't try, that's what I whispered to myself. I took a deep breath. I gripped my knife tightly and opened the door out of the kitchen. I successfully went out of the kitchen. A few more steps to the living area. I got stunned at my stand and my eyes widened when I saw that there was a knife pointed at my neck.