The world makes a tide of my blood;
Everytime it bleeds,
I bleed out, unable to stop the world.
Chapter 1
The Day of Climaxes
“Don’t get up!” Herick yelled from the hallway just outside of the gym.
Vikan complies reluctantly, keeping his head down after the altercation. He wants to beat the shit out of his offender. But he remains calm for Herick’s sake.
“Don’t move, you’re bleeding. What were you thinking, Vik?” Herick sighs and shakes his head.
“Am I?” Vikan responds, moving his hand to his head to feel the already-cooling blood. It already congealed to his head, and the fresh liquid now seeps under his fingernails.
“Yo- you couldn’t feel that? Your brain may be rattled…”
“No shit.” Vikan groans, realizing it was a mistake to speak when his head starts ringing from the sound of his own voice.
“Just stay down and wait for the nurse.” Herick bends over Vikan’s white bag to move it away from the bloody scene, relocating it against the lockers.
The new nurse hustles into the building, shaken by the fact that an emergency situation has happened on her very first day on the job. With a semi-conscious thought, Vikan closes his eyes – refusing to let her see the pain that resides there. Most of it is emotional, anyhow.
“Where was he injured?” The nurse inquires, stooping down and scooting across the floor to get a better look. She moves doggedly, avoiding the drops of blood sprinkled on the tiled floor like a minefield. She checks his pulse, respiration, and responsiveness; assuring herself that the boy hadn’t died, passed out, or been otherwise paralyzed.
“The head, I think he may have a concussion.” Herick answers her with worry seeping into his voice, just like how his tears have been seeping down his throat and causing him to choke back sobs.
“Okay, hun, the ambulance will arrive shortly,” she says reassuringly. Herick gets more and more antsy as he tunes into the distant whirl of sirens headed their way.
Vikan thinks back to the fight and how his old nemesis cornered him into submission. He was such an idiot for behaving amiable towards his aggressor – but, hey, being nice isn’t a habit he was about to break. Especially when he spent all his life perfecting the trait. ‘My mother would be proud,’ he scoffs inwardly at the thought. He slips in and out of consciousness, until everything goes dark like his thoughts.
* * * *
The hospital was a bummer to his already bummed-out mood. He could smell the freshly washed sheets the whole limousine ride home and wondered why he had asked the doctor what brand of detergent they used. It’s not like he cared. Sure, the smell was nice, but not that nice. The nicest thing in the place was his phony sweet attitude trying its best to sound grateful. He was, of course, but he had laid it on pretty thick. This kind of behavior was ingrained in him since the day he was born and reinforced for the past 15 years. At this point, he doesn’t even know his real personality.
The limousine rolls down the sunny driveway and pulls up next to the curbside lined with elegant statues of a food chain of animals. There’s a person with a Dachshund following a fox, following a bird, following a grasshopper, following a patch of grass with a sun statue overhanging it. Vikan shudders. He knows he’s human, but his house makes him feel lower on the food chain; each time he enters the premises, he feels paranoia.
“Sir, do you need a hand with your bag?” The driver, Mr. Indo, offers.
“I can handle it, sir, thank you.” Vikan smiles. He opens the door and steps out, adjusting his bandage under his disheveled black hair and patting down the black T-Shirt the hospital gave him before taking his bag and heading inside.
The foyer was as unwelcoming as always. Vikan tiptoes past one of the many living rooms and walks up the black marble stairs which spiral to the top floor where his bedroom is located. He quickens his pace, wary of being caught, and shuts his bedroom door silently. Homerun! Well, his bedroom is the closest thing to home he’s got.
And, of course, he forgot his water and is extremely dehydrated. So, Vikan sneaks back out of his room despite out being the last place he wants to be. He fills a cup of water from the kitchen sink and internally curses as he hears footsteps. He’s too tired for this.
“Emaza! Show some proper etiquette! For god’s sake, you’re an up-and-coming college student!” Vikan peeks around the corner to catch a glimpse of his sister lounging on the couch with her phone in hand.
“I’m texting my goodbyes,” she responds, tapping with her thumbs and not glancing up at mother.
“Texting? Are you a child or an adult? The most civilized way to say goodbye is in person during your graduation ceremony.”
“I’m a teen, neither child nor adult. And phones are in the modern age, so texting is civilized,” she rebels, and Vikan lets his jaw drop. What is this? She’s always been a little bit of a rebel, and he’s admired it all his life, but this? This was new.
“Are. You. Sassing me?” Mother glares.
“I don’t have any friends to say goodbye to! You never let me invite anyone over and intimidated all of the mothers! Nobody cared to talk to me, so why should I talk to them now?” Emaza fires back.
“Get out, you ungrateful brat.” That’s all mother says, and with that, Emaza leaves with a suitcase already packed and hidden behind the door.
“Guess what? Graduation was yesterday.” She lets the words linger, then disappears behind the door. Vikan wants to call out, but doesn’t see the point in doing so. She’s long gone and she didn’t even say goodbye to him. He thought that she, of all people, liked him in this family – but it turned out that she wanted to escape him along with the rest of their siblings and mother.
He was just one of them to her.
He thought that she saw him differently, but she was probably putting on a ‘nice’ act just like they all did. Just like how mother trained them to.
He’s been raised to act nice 24/7, but with her, it wasn’t an act. It was genuine, and he can feel the genuine sorrow creep into his heart.
Chapter 2
Principal & New Kid
“Soooo, you good man?” Herick questions. “What did the Principal say?”
“I haven’t met with him yet, just waiting for the call. This is my first time getting in trouble, so he’ll probably be lenient – not that I deserve it, of course.” Vikan puts on his fake smile, making sure to crinkle his eyebags to make the happiness seem believable. He learned all about micro-expressions in the personal psychology classes his mother insisted on him taking as a kid.
“That’s true, and I bet your mom would even fight like you did to keep your record clean.” He puts his fists up in a weak stance so that nobody questions his intentions.
“I did not fight, I was attacked and knocked out before I had a chance to defend myself.” Vikan puts his hands in the pockets of very fancy pants which are a part of the school attire.
“True, so then there’s nothing you would be getting in trouble for.” Herick smiles and pats him on the shoulder. “Howabout’ the other guy? Did they throw him in juvie yet?”
“He managed to evade capture.” Vikan jokes along, not really feeling it. He saddens as he recalls all of the times Emaza would joke back and forth in a similar manner. To think, that was all an act – a one sided friendship. Vikan cannot even find the right swear word to suit his situation. He knows mentally swearing is a bad habit that could lead to an accidental slip, but he’s willing to take that risk. Pressured by life’s demands, it’s hard to stop himself. It’s even becoming an addiction, but he needs to do this in order to cope with his emotions. Better to cope than to let everyone know what he’s feeling. He can’t even fathom the consequences of revealing his personal life to the world. Mother would manage the unthinkable; she always does. And it would most likely affect the rest of the family as well. His siblings would not be pleased.
* * * *
“Vikan Shamok, Principal Monet would like to see you now.” A kindly old lady in a flowered dress shirt informs. He stands, taking his school bag along with him into the conference room. He enters and seats himself across the lacquered wooden desk from the principal, who smiles and offers him some candy. He’s exhausted, so he’s grateful for the sugary pick-me-up (he rarely eats candy at home because it’s considered childish and unfit for his diet). He chooses the spear-mint, hoping the smell of it will wake him enough to have a normal human conversation. Ms. Monet starts first.
“So, Vikan, I understand you’re new to this school. Up until now, your transfer has been successful. Would you explain what happened between you and our new student, Keane?” She asks him with another smile. He clears his throat, unsure what the safe response would be.
“Keane was a student at my middle school. Since I switched districts last term, we figured we wouldn’t see each other again. We’ve never had the best relationship, and I suppose my leaving without a word ticked him off enough to get physical.” He fidgets in his seat, tapping his leg up and down to let out the nervous energy coursing through his veins.
“I see. Did you antagonize in any way? I will not hold it against you, I just want a better understanding of the situation.”
“No, ma’am, I was respectful of boundaries,” he assured her.
“Is there anything else you’d like to add? Did he threaten you in any way?” she prods. He gets a pit in his stomach–like a seed growing with each word she breathes.
“Such as my life?” he deflects.
“Yes, well, any provocations regarding the future?” she asks.
A frown breaks his smile for a half-second before he catches it and re-arranges his face back to how it was.
“No. Not that I remember,” he lies. It was a very bad lie, and he knows it. He could have just said no, but he had to add the sentence a person would use if prosecuted before the court of law. Too many private law sessions, he blames. Oh, well. Blaming his mother wasn’t going to fix his little slip-up, and it’s not like the lie can be proven. For all Principal Monet knows, he got amnesia when he hit his head.
“You’re free to go,” she smiles, “thank you for your time.”
“Of course,” he bows, “thank you for checking up on me.” Vikan smiles his state-of-the-art smile, bows with his head, then hurries on out of the suffocating space for an office.
* * * *
Back in class, Vikan struggles not to replay the fight in his mind. He flicks his pen in between his fingers in nervous anticipation for the bell to ring. Subconsciously, he finds himself drawn into the lecture the teacher is giving, so he decides to make use of his time and immerse himself with something productive rather than wallow in moments in his life that cannot be changed.
“There’s a time to be brave, and a time to stand down. Foolishness arises when you lose sight of what the moment requires.” The wisdom hits a nerve, and Vikan feels a shiver run down his spine. These words are about yesterday, during the fight – they perfectly express what was going on through his head during that time. It was true: he was foolish. He was indecisive, which led to him getting beat to a pulp.
<Yesterday Evening>
A basketball rolled astray, passing the doors of the gym to land against the lockers of the hallway. Vikan, who had been strolling by on his way to his ride that would be there any minute, bent over to retrieve the lost item. It was sticky and gross, so whoever was using it had been at it for quite some time. Vikan held the ball by the palm of his hand – a miraculous feat that many of his classmates awed over – and made his way over to the gym.
“Hey, I got your ball for you!” He gave a close-eyed smile as he exhibited the basketball in one hand like it was a prize, showing off a little by waving it upside down in the air. It was out-of-character for Vikan, but he let his guard down a bit since it was the end of the day and he was tired. He didn’t have time to dodge before a boy about his height slammed full-force into him, and shoved him onto the smooth, hard floor. The ball flew out of reach.
“You again?! Stop with that f*cking fake shit and give me a reason not to despise your guts!!” Vikan, terrified, squirmed away from a punch aimed at his gut and managed to get to his feet in time to block another blow. He recognised that voice all too well and finally looked up to see the delinquent face-to-face. Keane, his old classmate, stood before him – stringy brown hair and eyes the color of dried blood the same as ever.
“Hey! Did I offend you? I apologize! I swear I didn’t mean it!” Vikan screeched out – voice a few octaves higher than he’s used to. He kept his arm crossed in front of him in an amateur blocking position.
“You swear? Then let me hear it, you lifeless hypocrite!” Keane waited a moment, allowing Vikan to talk for once.
“I’d rather not –you know that – and why are you assaulting me right now? Could we just have a seat and talk about it?” He said this with the calmest voice he could muster. Keane, surprisingly, nodded his head in compliance. Vikan relaxed a bit.
“Fine. You’re always running. You let your fire burn me already, so I might as well feed the flames.” He was talking in riddles. Vikan looked at him quizzically, but the expression soon turned to one of shock when a fist came hurtling straight for his face.
Vikan ducked, but just barely, and got hit hard in his temple. The throbbing started instantaneously, which made him disoriented. Pain was what toppled him over. He was prone to attack, and that notion kept him from passing out. He listened as Keane ran off in some unknown direction. Vikan just laid there and waited for help. Finally, Herick, his one and only friend, showed up to save the day after what felt like days of agony on school grounds.
Chapter 3
Dreaded Return I Knew Not
‘I’m not brave. I’m scared, and am too weak to power through my fears. I pretend to be brave, but am not when it comes down to a fight. I run. Just like Keane said, I’m a runner. I always run away from what will get me into trouble. From people who could get me into trouble. From people I’m scared of, meanwhile, the one most scary is the one who controls my life. She’s the final boss, my mother. And I can’t escape no matter how far or how long I run. It’s always a roundabout track for me. I get the exercise, but don’t get anywhere. I’m not brave. Cowardice is a side effect of being raised to be obedient. She raised me well. She chained me to be a servant to the world, so now there is an invisible chain linking my personal health to the world’s. An irrational responsibility I can’t rid myself of no matter how hard I try. I do the nicest thing I can for everyone around me, and I can’t give myself a break. If I were ever to be brave, it wouldn’t be for myself, but for somebody else. I learned how selfish bravery corrupts. I saw it first-hand as my sister ran out the door and out of my life like our childhood meant nothing to her. I am not brave: and maybe that’s a good thing. Because if I were brave, my family and the world would suffer for it.’
Vikan contemplated his life choices and became more and more resigned to his anguish. Anxiety, grief, and fear were the main components and they washed over him everytime he looked up for even a second. The weather had nothing to do with it; it could be sunny, cloudy, rainy – it didn’t matter. The weather didn’t interrupt his mood. It had no mercy, being a steady climate of calamity.
When Vikan’s dad left, it wasn’t an act of abandonment – it was self preservation. He called social services, lawyers, and did everything he could to convince his wife to let him take the kids. She didn’t budge. She managed to pay off the government officials and, so, they all ended up looking away. It was a corrupt system that favored corrupt people.
Vikan’s older brother by a year, Bruno, took care of his siblings, being the only one who showed compassion after their dad left. They all suspected that it was forced compassion – a ruse to maintain his dignity – but Vikan had always believed that his brother truly cared. But he’s been questioning himself recently. He hardly ever sees Bruno anymore because he spends most of his nights hopping from friend’s to friend’s homes. Bruno’s always been good at making friends, being the only one in the family to master the ability. He avoids any and all contact at school with Vikan. Bruno has outstanding grades, awards, achievements, and probably scholarships all lined up in his favor, so mother allows him more free reign than his siblings.
Vikan cries with his head stuffed inside his locker, unwilling to let anybody see. Once he’s finished, he walks to class with just his books in hand. Most of the students have already made it to class, so he quickens his pace. He can’t be late – mother would ground him again and make him study for hours with a private tutor who doesn’t believe in breaks or positive reinforcement. He’s so lost in thought, he doesn’t notice the boy until he bumps into him.
“Vik?” a familiar voice says in alarm. Vikan spins around at the moniker.
“Br-Brunobro?” he stutters his own nickname for him. Bruno’s black eyebrows furrow and he looks at his younger brother with concern highlighted by his sharp features. His sharp eyes pierce into the Vikan’s and Vikan prays to God-if-there-is-one that he’s not about to start a fight. He’s had enough of those for the week – most being internal struggles with himself, but those still counted in his opinion.
“Have you been crying?” He pulls Vikan’s bangs up for closer inspection, looking at the bandage strapped across his forehead with horror.
“What the hell happened? Did mom do this to you?!”
“Shhhh!” Vikan moves to cover his mouth. And in a whisper/shout, continues on. “Why’re you shouting?! No, she didn’t, but she’ll do something worse if word gets out that she physically assaults her kids!”
“Worse? Have things been getting worse? I thought she’d have calmed down seeing how I’ve succeeded,” he draws in a breath at the end.
“No, actually, you set her expectations higher. Thanks a lot, by the way. And where’ve you been?! You get better treatment and then suddenly ditch us for your upgrade? What’s up with that?” Vikan had this speech prepared already, and a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders as he let his frustrations out. He feels especially light without the 30 lb backpack straining his muscles and tendons.
“I–” Bruno begins tearing up, but doesn’t move to conceal it.
“Just, whatever. Will you ride home with me today?”
“Cou-course I will.” He straightens his posture and begins to smile a little. Vikan can’t decide whether or not it’s fake, but he’s been around his brother long enough to know that his intentions are good. He never doubted that, not even when he disappeared for a time. “How did you injure your head?” he finally asks. Vikan tells him the truth.
“Keane.” Is all he has to say. His brother knows about the tense relationship he has with Keane. How Keane went from being an enemy, to friend, and back to enemy. Keane’s angry about all sorts of things – most of it probably unrelated to Vikan. Bruno explained all this to him a few years ago after an altercation outside of a retail store. Bruno was always good at giving advice, and took it better than most people.
‘Yay! I just can’t believe it – he’s back!’ Vikan thinks, chuckling at the sudden joy. The bell rings, but for once, Vikan isn’t afraid. He keeps laughing.
“How can you laugh? Did you get brain damage?” He asks a very unfunny question. Suddenly, we hear a loud thump behind us. We turn, and see Keane standing behind us.
“Can we talk?” He asks hesitantly and very quietly. Vikan and Bruno gasp in unison when somebody emerges from behind Keane, coming out of hiding. Emaza.
Like cutting ties with people,
you must knot the ends nicely –
else they’ll become frayed
and make a mess of your life.
The
Third of the clock,
Measures my life,
Telling me I have a future
That will grow as I grow
And end as if endings never had been the real
