Later, after a busy day at school, Fay dreaded coming home. She knows that she doesn't need to tell her mom about the news and that makes her heart beat faster. Sweat forms on her back as nerves wreck her mind.
The bus came to a stop at her house and as much as her legs were shaking, she still kept her face devoid of emotion. She feels like going to a war that is already lost as she comes out of the bus.
At their door, their attendants greeted her as always. She tries reading their expressions but like every normal day, they give away nothing.
"Where's mom?" She asked one of the attendants, standing at the bottom of their grand staircase.
"She is in the living room, miss," the attendant answered, keeping her head bowed.
Faye blew out a long breath. "Thanks."
Her steps were slow as if dragging back time would somehow change the inevitable. Once she was standing right outside their living room, she calmed herself. Or at least try to.
Her mom was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace. The chair was turned away so she couldn't see her mom's expression but the mere fact that she was there was enough to unnerve her. "Are you just going to stand there all day?" Her mom's voice was like ice, pouring over her head in a blanket of unheard rage.
She dragged herself into the room, her head low as she went to her mother's side. She reached out to take her mother's left hand and place her forehead on the back of her palm as a sign of paying respects. "Sit," her mother commands, sipping tea. "What happened?"
She had seen this question coming but still, she answered the same. "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
Well, it means what it means. I don't know. But Faye bit her lower lip to stop the words from spilling. She says nothing but repeats herself. "I don't know."
"You are the one in the school, how can you not know? Don't you pay attention to Amara's scores or how she does at school?"
Why should I? Is there any reason I should? "I don't."
"Why?" Desperation claws at her heart making its way to her throat, making it hard to breathe. She wants to make sense of what her mother is saying but she cannot.
It is the same cycle over and over again. It doesn't matter to her mom if her grades are skyrocketing high, if she is not the best person in the room, all her hard work is just the speck of dust in the galaxy. For her mother, doing her best means being the best. If you cannot be number 1 then that means you are not doing your best. Her mom will claim that she is not comparing her to anyone but her words say otherwise.
She wants to clamp her ears shut. She wants to silence the world so that they can hear her. She wants to shout. She wants to bring back time and do better. She doesn't want to regret. She wants to be thankful for reaching that rank that not anybody can do. She wants to be proud of herself. She wants to tell her mom that the next time she tells her that she can do better, she will just give in to that desperate voice that's been telling her to give up. But she kept her mouth shut.
"I know how hard it is to study," her mom continues. "I've been there. But raising you up is harder and tougher. Don't tell me that our expectations are too high. We are giving you everything you need, feeding you and giving you rewards and gifts when you deserve it. Don't you think that we have every right to expect something from you too? If you think studying is hard, think about us, your parents, who are working day and night, it doesn't even matter if we are sick, just to give you everything you're enjoying now."
Her tears came unbidden. Not from her mother's words but from the words she kept locked up from inside her. Things she can't and will never find the strength to say. Even though the words feel like stones, weighing her heart, daring her to throw them. The words are alive inside her head, like birds wanting to come out from her cage. But she won't let them slip, because she knows. That no matter how much she wants to shout back, to say something in return, her mother will always be her mother. And that will never change.
"Why are you crying? Dry your tears, if crying can do something about this then I will let you cry a ton." But she didn't. Faye didn't brush her tears away. It is the only free thing in her world. One that will not cost her anything.
"I will do better," she says quietly.
"You should because if you don't, I don't know what will happen to you." Her mother stood up and vacated the chair.
That's when the dam broke. As her tears fall, she stares silently at the empty chair. Wondering what would have happened if she stood up for herself? Would her mom see that she's carelessly bleeding? Or would she still see the dreams she has for herself?
Not that any of it matters. Right now, Faye just wants to be free.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
She heard it first then rolled her eyes. What was she expecting? Some kind of celebration because she was ranked first with Faye? Or maybe at least some peace and quiet for the night?
Amara entered their manor and at the sound of the door locking, the screaming voices decreased into whispers. Oh please, as if I still can't hear them. Please, do not stop on my account.
"Amara, dear. You're home." Her tear-stained faced mother welcomed her in their foyer. Her eyes went unconsciously to where her father was, standing on the far right at the entrance to their kitchen, smoking. She can see that there are some broken dishes on the floor.
"Yes," she answers in an even tone.
"How was school?" Her mother's attempt to start a conversation is pitiful for her.
"Fine." Her tone was clipped and disrespectful but she doesn't care. She begins to ascend the stairs when she stops. "I'm ranked first, by the way. In case you're wondering." Then she ran to her room, not wanting to here her mother's lame "congratulations".
Slamming her door shut, she left her things on the floor and plopped down on the bed, staring at her ceiling. Tears threatened to gather in her eyes but she forced them down. From downstairs, she vaguely hears the start of yet another storm.
Sighing heavily, she snatched her phone from her bag and put on her earphones and listened to music at the maximum volume, hoping that somehow, music could offer her the home she asked for.
Her phone chimes, waking her up from her deep slumber. She didn't even realize that she fell asleep. She is still wearing her school uniform and she is too lazy to change.
Her phone says it's 10:45 pm. There is a message for her from her friend, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth: Party, tonight?
It was sent at 8 pm.
Amara: What time?
Elizabeth: It already started. LOL!!
Elizabeth: You can still come, though. Wear a killer!!
The perfect escape. Amara smiles to herself.
It took her no time to change. As she studies herself in the mirror, she schools her expression, burying the little girl in the background. She has always known that she is beautiful. She doesn't need to put make-up on to catch anyone's attention. But tonight she decided to change that. Not because she feels particularly ugly but because she hopes that make-up can be her mask.
She comes down moments later, dressed in a red wrap dress. She left her hair cascading down her back in elaborate curls. She painted her lips red to match her outfit along with red stiletto. Girl in red, she thought to herself.
"Where are you going in the middle of the night?" Her father's voice sounded somewhere behind her just as she snatched the keys away.
"To my classmate's house." Her answer was short, not giving anything away.
"Whose?"
"Elizabeth's." A lie, but she doesn't care.
"Who are you with? What time are you gonna be home? And what's with your dress?" She rolls her eyes to the ceiling. She feels a slight irritation at her father.
"I don't know. And there's nothing wrong with my dress." She looks back at her Father who is standing near the bottom of the stairs, wearing a robe. "Besides, don't pretend. I know that you don't care about anything I do. It's kind of annoying."
She gets a glimpse of her father's surprised face before she pulls the door open. "You--" she slams the door shut, tired of hearing more of her father's pretense.
By the gate, her ride was waiting. "What took you so long?" Her friend, Samuel, asked.
She shakes her head as her friend gives her a helmet. "Don't even start."
She gets on the bike and wraps her arms around him. When the wind was rushing in her ears, she thought, finally, home.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
"Hey, mom." Reagan's voice broke as she spoke to the cold marble in front of her. At least try to. "I'm here again. How are you?"
It is the 15th death anniversary of her parents. She vaguely remembers them. She can't even remember their faces. She was just 2 years old when they died because of a car accident. She was with them, and despite being the youngest in the vehicle, she was the only one who managed to survive. They were on their way to some park when their car started to lose break, it was a rainy day. And well, a rainy day plus no break can only result in an accident.
How is that, in every dead member of any family, some accident was always involved? Can't they just die the normal way? Like because of old age or something?
As she finishes telling her family how her day went, thunder resonates and lightning cracks. She needs to end this fast. Because as the storm brews, she also can feel a panic attack forming inside her.
Her house is not that far from their graves since it was their tradition to bury their family members at the back of their mansion or something like that. It sounds creepy to some but not to her. She is thankful for it. Less hassle and it's like, even though they are gone, at least they're near.
"Bye, mom. Bye, dad." She gives each cold tile a silent kiss before standing up.
When she was outside their gate, she saw a man covered in black standing outside their home. She couldn't recognize him.
"Hey!" She shouts above the brewing storm. The man shifted his head as if to look at her but she still can't make out his face. "Who are you? Do you need something?"
She starts closing on him but he suddenly runs. She was about to chase him but the storm made her stop. She stood there with a confused feeling she cannot shake. Even when she reached the steps and found a glowing paper on the bottom step. Yes. Glowing.
Like there is some kind of halo around it. Golden halo. She bent to pick it up and examine it in her hand. Droplets of water touch her arm. She hides it in her pocket and scurry inside.