How do you usually start your day? Sipping a cup of coffee or stretching against the ray of Mr. Sun? As where I stand now, I'm quite doubtful that having blood on your hands was a normal way of starting your day...or screaming. I casually looked at my right where a man's back is barely exposed with red sticky liquid splashed over the surrounding of an unsightly wound. The white sheets were considerably stained and so was my shirt. Quietly I stood up, walked over to the sink and undyingly stared at the girl looking at me—messy hair, puffy eyes, pale lips and an unstable chest who seems to have trouble calming down. As if nothing ever happened, I walked over to the tub and indulged my naked body with cold water for as long as it can until I could feel that strange sensation waking up my spirit.
With my senses fully awakened, I had no trouble moving with such fluidity that only a moment of self-preparation was needed before I stepped out of my room. I could smell a delicious meal circulating around the house as I walked down the stairs, but such was a time where breakfast was unfortunately unimportant. Heading for the front door, my sister called me out from the kitchen and as I turned around, she was already in front of me with a bag of lunch box hanging on her hand.
"At least take this and I'll pretend you didn't just ignore my prepared breakfast," she said shoving the bag to me. I glanced at the kitchen and saw no kids at the dining table.
"They're at Mike's. If that's what you're wondering about," she remarked, answering me before I could express my question.
"Thanks," I plainly said and turned around.
She said something as I stepped outside, but I could no longer hear her. More like, I chose not to listen anymore. My actions may seem cold to anyone looking right now, but it just has to be that way. Or else, she'll never going to leave that house and be stuck with me forever.
Like the usual Monday, I headed straight to the office with an expensive coffee warm in my hand. I sat on my designated spot and in a few seconds, I had to get back up again and run around the office for my daily errands. I reckoned that I'll be finishing that expensive coffee cold, for it takes more than minutes before I could get back to my seat again.
I was among those employees where circumstances stuck us at the same spot where there's a lot of steps to climb while none behind to step back. That level where your only job is to obey and carry out orders without fail and resistance. It's anything but an amazing feat to continue working in that kind of environment. In this individualistic society, nothing mattered more than beating yourself to get out of your own hole and avoid being buried mercilessly. However, despite this cycle repeating every day, nothing has changed—at least, for me. It was the same dull day where I get knocked out to sleep on my desk on an afternoon break.
I was out of breath. I've been running for a while now and the darkness seems to be endless. It's a surprise how I could still afford another step despite this endless marathon with this unknown creature close at my heels, clearly, with no signs of resignation. It was quiet, but the air surrounding it was screaming threats on my nerves. And then I stopped. This is pointless. Running away from death, for me, is nothing but a futile act. It's less scary if you embrace fear, after all.
A stronger shade of black that appeared more like a shadow stood out in the dark background. I could finally make sense of its figure and its hands that were about to pierce its sharp claws into my chest. When it hit me, I flinched. I nudged the emptied coffee on my desk and barely back to my senses; I threw the disposable cup to the bin beside my feet. The darkness shifted back to the messy and busy office.
It's been a while since everyone left the office. I stayed for a few more hours though and did nothing but swing around in my chair and amused myself by staring into nothing. When I find it entertaining no more in my seat, I'd officially get off in the building and walk home.
The office building was located around downtown. For me to get home, I'd be passing a lot of busy and crowded streets. Walking home like this, though tiring considering the heels I'm wearing, while a street food called "kwek-kwek" in my hand gives me the chance to direct my attention to something more interesting than that dull office.
The eyes of the people I come across with were way different from the tired and lifeless eyes of the people inside that office. The variety of energy they give off—rushing feet, excitement, serenity, impatience and gladness, was a sight to behold. It was rare to see someone you know in the middle of this vast space mixed with individuals coming from all over the country. And when such a rare moment appears, it never ceases to surprise me.
"Raffy?"
I turned around to find the owner of that awfully familiar voice—femininely loud. There stood a woman in a flower patterned, tight-fitting dress hugging perfectly the curves of her body with her eyes smiling widely at me.
"Venice..." I greeted with rather less energy than her smile.
She dragged out of the crowds and forced me inside an awfully elegant and expensive restaurant. She insisted on treating me to a dinner, although I already explained how satisfied I was with that street food as my dinner.
"How have you been? You never returned my calls I almost thought you really hate me. You're not, aren't you?" she asked with an undisguised wonder.
"Sorry, I was busy," I lied. But it was the most effective excuse to give for someone you've never really desired to interact warmly with again.
"Of course, you are. You had to so, I won't judge you for that. Anyway, you haven't answered my question yet." She stopped cutting that expensive beef on her plate and looked at me with serious eyes. "How are you, Raffy?"
Her eyes and words were unsurprisingly genuine. For someone whom I've spent several intimate years with, I could sense as much.
"That's a good a question," I said. I paused for a moment and pretended to think about what kind of answer I should give. "Let's see... for the past five years, I was never really at peace. I still feel I have no right to sleep, wake up and be fine. I've been inside the same cycle, walking the same path, living the same burdened life...so, I never really had the chance to take a moment and ask that question to myself," I said to her with such plain tone I could sense her regretting the question she just threw at me.
"I'm sorry," she uttered. She held out for my hand across the table. And then threw a sympathetic stare, without a stain of fakeness. She's still the same pure girl I knew.
I leaked a smile. "It's nice seeing you again. Venice. As much as I love to spend time with you longer, I still have a presentation to prepare for tomorrow. Thank you for this wonderful dinner," I said and stood up.
Just as I was about to take further steps away from the table, I heard a serious piece of information enough to halt my steps.
"Von... he was as loyal as a dog. He'd rather betray his feelings than murder yours."
I walked inside my room and slumped my body on the bed. I gazed at the bare ceiling and realized it looked the same as it was this morning. I knew that and will certainly know about that fact even after five years. But it's not the same with his situation. Remembering Venice's words, I couldn't help but laugh inwardly.
Von might be as loyal as a dog but I was unfortunately, foolish than Eve. No words needed for me to bite the apple.