The jets of the shower encompassed Bunga's naked body as she stood still before the bathroom wall. The shape of her face seemed to be lost in every concurrent flow of emotion that buried her point of view into a blur. All about fear, regret, guilt, and anger, contemplated in the tradition of the morning shower before going to the office. The tradition that Bunga craved for at least the tranquility of the water that soaks the hair can cool the head.
However, Bunga's mind was a Mexican dead end. A mind that could not answer death. The morning's thoughts were muddled because all that came back to her were the screaming voices of a mother whose head had been crushed by an axe, and the corpse of Vika who had been raped in front of her. Every water that drenched this, turned to blood. And Bunga saw their deaths with every breath. Everything kept repeating itself.
She could do nothing.
She could only see.
She could do nothing.
Her luck confined her behind a thick glass door.
She couldn't open it. Even after he forced it open. Her teeth gritted every time she slammed her body hard against the door, with anger heating up her face mixed with despair.
"BITCH!"
Bunga slammed her fist hard against the door. Slammed hard against the bathroom wall. Blindly slamming into it.
Constantly.
Each blow was accompanied by an unstoppable burst of rage.
The rage continued to drive her, numbing her from the pain of bruised blue skin, making her ask the same questions about luck and death.
"SHIT!" Bunga delivered a final, much more devastating blow to the wall, while swearing and screaming at the top of her lungs - she had tried to refrain from screaming because it would make a scene with the neighbors.
All her anger had spilled out.
Then she cried. Crying bitterly. Her breathing was labored. Tried to sit on the floor. Leaning against the wall. Watching her shower drown her in a downpour of water, amongst the dim morning light coming through the bathroom's grimy glass, which was quite beautiful actually-Bunga cried in beauty.
The crying did not stop for long. She clung to her knees as her right hand trembled violently. It was no lie that the bruises on her hand were painful. There might be a fracture there, but Bunga didn't care.
Bunga had to go to work.
Stepping out the door, no one asked about the screaming. Bunga was grateful.
She could see the emptiness of Vika's room next door, whose door had been closed tightly since Galih's suicide by overdose of medication. Shaking her head, she walked away.
*****
It had been weeks since Bunga started working at the pipeline corporation, but not many had really befriended her other than the one who had died; Vika. Now she was faced with a situation where she had no friends. It wasn't that no one wanted to be friends with her, in fact after being awarded the best employee by her uncle, she was often surrounded by people who thought she was great. But that didn't solve the situation.
Bunga wanted someone who could share her disappointments in life with her. Bunga wanted an honest and sincere person like Vika who could tell her that she was not a perfect person.
Bunga believes her charm as a model employee keeps her from being herself. Her charm keeps people silent on the fact that she uses nepotism to get hired. Her charm made her unable to state an opinion that she agreed with Vika's intentions and that as a victim she did not hate Vika at all.
In the end these close people are only considered as coworkers.
That is the premise for Bunga to have never started a work day with enthusiasm, even today. Where people in her division partied together, celebrating the success of the marketing campaign of their designed water pipes that exploded on social media.
All the marketing division employees were feasting at a Japanese restaurant at dismissal time.
Deep-fried gyoza and crispy karage fill the atmosphere. Donburi feeds the hungry. Miso and shoyu ramen fill the tables. Thick udon is twisted with chopsticks. A robo-servant with a tray brought the udon along with an onsen egg to Bunga. She took it. Examining the faces chattering back and forth. Poured the onsen egg from the small red bowl onto the udon. Then eat.
In addition to keeping up her persona, Bunga was still at the party because her boss paid for all the dishes, so it was free. So when the soft yolk of the half-cooked onsen egg teased her, she smiled. Although she was awkward to meet and talk with coworkers, at least this dish was enough to improve her mood.
Including the dark thoughts like this morning. Although there were still residual remnants of sadness.
At least she could be calmer.
"Is the onsen egg really that good?"
Bunga was a bit taken aback. It was a comment from the man to her left. His name was Erik. His eyeballs were looking at Bunga's onsen egg through the round glasses he wore as an accessory.
Bunga said yes reluctantly. Didn't think much of it. Just went back to eating.
"You don't seem to be in the mood today. So is the udon and onsen egg that good until you get back in the mood?"
"Yeah... so what?"
"No, I had no idea it would be that good; not a fan of half-boiled eggs."
There was a break here.
"Is your hand better?" asked Erik while looking at Bunga's slightly shaky hand lifting the chopsticks.
Bunga took a sip of udon before answering, "Not bad. Still a little tremor."
"Got into a fight?"
Bunga stopped and looked at Erik for a moment. "Not so wrong."
"With?"
Bunga was thinking. It would be impossible to answer that she had a fight with a wall. So she said, "There is, with someone."
"Why?"
"Cuz I'm upset."
"So bad, huh? You got such bruises."
Bunga said yes.
She felt that the conversation after this wasn't that important to be written down. Not because Erik was an unimportant person-she wasn't an anti-social who easily forgot someone. It was just that Erik was too good for her who only knew about death in her life. Bunga honestly felt a little guilty when she refused Erik's offer to take her home by motorcycle.
"Sorry."
"What's wrong?"
"It's okay. I just like to take the LRT."
" I'm so disappointed, but I guess it's okay."
Erik suddenly handed something over.
A chocolate bar.
"For you. Take it, will ya."
Bunga took it. She wasn't expecting it. "Thank you," she said awkwardly.
Then, she took the LRT back home.
Bunga wasn't lying when she said she loved taking the LRT. She always loved the experience of being swept away listening to Creep by Radiohead through her earphones while looking at the urban buildings that seemed to move away from the window frame. Or like today, sitting on a bench eating chocolate among the crowds that come and go, musing along to the lyrics of Heaven Know I'm Miserable Now by The Smith.
Then arrive at the destination station. Get out onto the platform. Walked down the stairs. Noticing every food shop along the aisle. Bunga bought some sliced bread ice cream.
Eating her ice cream as she walked, paying attention to every billboard on display. A billboard advertising chocolate bars caught her eye. She stopped.
It was an advertisement for a special Valentine's Day chocolate bar.
"Oh. No wonder."
Valentine's Day, where here-unlike in Japan or other countries-men give chocolates to their loved ones.
*****
Tomorrow was the same day for Bunga, actually. However, this time there was something unusual that she did when she left for the office in the morning.
She went into Vika's room-she opened it with her room key because it was the same type.
Vika's room had been very quiet since she came home from the hospital. The police lines that once crisscrossed it had been removed. Until now, no one had occupied it again. Bunga herself would usually just ignore it and pass by every time she left or came home from work.
Having a neighbor who once tried to kill her, she was also offered to move, but refused. The rent where Bunga lived was the only cheapest place she could live. Sima's problems are also not a new thing. After all, human civilization has walked with them.
After a long time alienating it away from the mind, Bunga decided to re-examine the forms that she considered scary.
Sitting against the wall between the bed-which had been replaced because Galih had previously committed suicide there-and the front window, surrounded by deep fear, Bunga asked several questions in her heart.
"What should I do after this?"
"How can I answer all these fears?"
Bunga checked her wristwatch. There were still a few minutes until she had to leave for work before it was too late.
Everything was quiet in Vika's room, when suddenly someone said, "I dunno, why bother asking me?"
Bunga immediately turned to the origin of the voice when she found Vika sitting next to her! She stood up suddenly. Looking at the figure closely. Can't believe it.
Bunga held back her screams so she wouldn't be mistaken for crazy.
Bunga knew it wasn't real, but Vika was really there!
And the next thing Vika said was, "Get to the fucking work, duh! Don't be so damn depressed!"
"Or I'll kill you anyway!"
Bunga knew Vika would say that. She chuckled.
Bunga was crazy!
Bunga's madness did not stop her from being part of the working community that had to move to the office every morning.
Everything was still the same routine for Bunga. Doing administrative tasks and other daily tasks. Seniors giving assignments. Involved in meetings. Involved in new projects.
Involved.
Engage.
Task and duty.
No overtime. She gets home at 4pm.
Erik still offered Bunga a ride home. Bunga refused.
They were in front of the office building.
"That's how much you like LRT, huh?" He chuckled. "Well, take care."
Bunga was quiet for a moment as Erik prepared to walk to the parking lot.
"Thank you so much for the chocolate yesterday."
Erik stopped. Presumably surprised. He looked at Bunga. "Your... welcome."
Bunga thought before continuing to speak.
"I don't know what you mean. But I think you're being too nice to me." Bunga bit her lip.
"Sorry for being a smartass." She turned her face to Erik.
Erik sighed in disappointment. He looked up at the rather gloomy afternoon sky. "'Rejected, huh ... I haven't even expressed my feelings yet."
Bunga's face turned red. Wait! There's something wrong here!
"That's not what I meant, Erik."
The man moved his eyes slightly at the opposite speaker.
"I... just wanted to be alone, that's all. I didn't know that you ... after all, why would I?"
"Because I see such a beauty," Erik answered without hesitation. "And that beauty is being tormented in a sadness.
"I can't bear to look at it."
Bunga was speechless. It was as if her nerves had stopped working from the overwhelming reaction her body was receiving.
"I... don't know how to say it. But, thank you... that's very nice to hear, honestly." Her heartbeat became chaotic.
"With your pleasure."
Once convinced, Bunga left. Meanwhile, Erik went to the parking lot on his motorcycle. On the way to the station, Bunga saw the man wandering the streets freely.
Bunga's face was still blushing from their conversation.
That form of happiness apparently still lasted in the carriages that took Bunga away.
Until suddenly someone offered her a packet of candy.