The family whom I love so much is against me. Both my brothers and my sister-in-law only look at me in disdain, and my mother only talks to me to tell me to fuck off because I am an annoying motherfucker.
"Yeah that's all you're good at aren't you," she scorns. "Fuck your mother up?"
My little brother, my best friend; he stands beside her, looking at me like I am nothing more than a cockroach. Just for a second and then he looks away, as if the sight of me is just too much to bear.
I walk away slowly, for I have no confidence in where I'm going. I see them get into a taxi, not even giving me a glance, and off they go, leaving me alone at the side of the road.
I find a train station, or at least that's what all the signs on the building are saying. The first thing I find myself in is an elevator. There's a boy my age sitting at the other end, reading a book. I sit down at my own corner, taking out my own book.
After the elevator starts moving, it takes me a while to realise that this is the train. It can move vertically and horizontally, stops at many levels and pit stops, fetching more people that have backpacks on their shoulders.
The elevator's walls are made of glass, and I can see how it's circling around the inside of the building. I see people bustling about, going in and out of shops. It's like a city within concrete walls.
The boy with the book asks me what I am reading. As I tell him the story of it, he listens attentively. I notice the book in his hands and realise it's one I've read before, and I wish to myself that he won't explain his book to me.
One of the people who have gotten on at other stops looks at me, and his expression reminds me of the looks my brother and mother had given me. "I told you not to read here, didn't I?" he has a British accent. "Put it away right now, it isn't a place to show off your smarts."
I put my book away. The first boy puts his away too, and he gives me a shy smile.
If it isn't a place for 'smarts', then what is it a place for?, I want to ask.
A robotic voice fills the elevator, telling all of us to stay together as a group. I look around me to see all boys.
The elevator door opens and everyone files out, me and the boy with the book last. I don't catch his full name for it's from another language, so I call him G. "Can I stay close with you?" he asks. I nod, because it's better than being alone in this strange place.
Honestly, the building reminds me of a mall and school rolled into one and thrown into the pits of a jungle. The east side is where all the libraries and classrooms and dorms are, while the west side has all the bookstores and department stores and cinemas. Meanwhile, grass fills the ground entirely, trees grow all over the sides, bushes take over all the walls of the shops.
We keep walking, exploring all the nooks and crannies we encounter, develop friendships with one another. G takes my hand at one point and asks if it's okay. I hold on to him for a second before muttering, "I already have someone I like."
I hold open the library door for our comrades, and while most of them thank me, the one with the British accent and another tall bulky guy snap at me to never hold open the door for them. I let the last other guy pass through before I slam the door in their faces.
It opens again and British Accent lunges at me, slamming me onto the wall with a hand around my neck. Everyone of our other group members push him off and stand in a line in front of me, creating a barrier between us. As surprising as it is, it's also touching my heart in a weird way.
"I need to go to the toilet," I say, and with a glare towards British Accent, I make my way past tables and into the ladies at the side of the room. I stare at the mirror, and I don't know where I got it, but there's a huge cut that goes from under my eye to across my cheek and down the side of it, almost like the path a tear would go. Bruises shaped like fingers circle my neck.
I go outside to find my comrades nowhere in sight. A girl who's sitting at a table looks at me and says pityingly, "They're gone, yeap. They left without you."
That's when I go frantic. I run out the library and everywhere, trying to find my familiar faces. I whip my head around at every sound, every voice I hear, hoping to see G or the other losers I was starting to love the presence of.
I stumble upon twigs and branches. I don't stop to ease the itches the bushes left where they touched me. I lean against a tree with all my strength and get up to have my forehead and cheek indented with the pattern of its trunk. I cry salty tears that enter and sting the cut on my cheek.
A toy shop I'm passing by is giving away balloons, and even in the midst of my misery I go and take one. Mine is in the shape of an elephant, as long as my arm. I am admiring it, trying to cheer myself up when I see my comrades.
For some reason, I don't run to them and hug them in joyful reunion. They look like my comrades, but they are... not. The ones I know are calm, quiet, very nerdy. These are frantic and noisy, screaming nonsense and a little bit crazy. They're jumping around on these huge teddy bears like little kids. Not like the intelligent-looking people I met.
I watch as one of them picks up a teddy bear and starts running crazy outside the toy shop, swinging it around. He knocks over people, before swinging it one last time and knocking down a shelf of perfume bottles outside the neighbouring shops.
The crash is loud and it doesn't stop until complete silence. I unclasp my palms from my ears and open my eyes to see everyone has stopped to stare. The smell of the perfumes mixing in the air is overwhelming, and I am urged to cut off my nose to make it stop.
A piece from a perfume bottle had flown at me, stabbing me right at the side of my throat. I remove it and blood drips all over my elephant balloon. I seem to be the only one moving, my breathing being the only thing I hear that it almost starts to irritate me.
The owner from the perfume shop comes out and looks at my comrade, who is lying on the ground, he and the teddy bear stabbed with pieces of perfume bottles. It's a mess of meat and blood and teddy bear stuffing.
The old man says: "It's okay, you're just a child. I understand that you can't contain your excitement. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay." and he starts sweeping up whatever glass pieces his broom can reach.
My comrade stands up slowly and says: "I'll pay you back." he turns to look at me, but I cannot bear to see how his face will look like. I turn on my heels, and my shoulders are caught in a pair of hands; G's. He repeats what our comrade has said; "He'll pay back."
I don't care. I don't want to see. I release myself and try to run, going frantic all over again and this time in silence. I hide, wanting to kill myself to stop my breathing like how you'd want to kill a baby to stop its crying.
When I finally have the courage to return to the shopping mall side of this strange building, I see a small crowd gather in front of the perfume shop. I join G at the back, and he puts an arm around my waist, gently pushing me to the front so I could see what's going on.
There's our comrade, naked and skin painted black, with his mouth attached to the bottom of British Accent, who is shoving the trunk of my elephant balloon down his throat.
The perfume shop owner stands beside, collecting money thrown to him as mine and G's friends continue performing all sorts of obscenities with each other and my balloon. I stare for a long time, for I have not witnessed anything like it before. It can't be unseen ever.
Dreaming to me is like drowning. It starts off okay, like a swim, and then you realise you're too far gone from the shore, and it gets to a point where you can hardly breathe.
Waking up from a dream is just the same as finally breaking the surface after being too long underwater. I gasp for air every morning, thankful that I was not gonna be stuck down there forever until I die.
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