by Amelia Lee
I opened the door and saw Rose there. She was lying, motionless while hugging a brown teddy bear. Her back was bleeding, as well as her head. I cupped her face. It was so cold. She was lifeless. I cried at that time. Who did that?
My eyes turned towards the kitchen when I heard a woman cried from over there. It was Iris. She was still alive and someone was tried to harm her. Somebody tried to harm my family. I ran as fast as eggs that soon will fall to the origin of the voice. I saw her there, slumped on the floor with a fear expression. Her forehead was bleeding, her hands bloody. Her hair was a mess, she looked at me with an expression of fear and horror then called my name.
"Emmerich…" I approached and hugged her. She was shaking in my arms.
"What was going on? Who did this?"
"He. He did this,"
"Who!?" My patience was running out.
"He's here now,"
"Gosh, Iris, who?! Who is here?"
"He's right behind you."
I looked back and I was shocked. I saw him there, standing with a big gun in his grip. I saw a knife lying on the floor that already covered in blood near his right leg, lying underneath. He looked at us with eyes as cold as winter. As cool as morning breeze that blows. He looked at me and Iris.
"What do you want?" He did not answer me. He switched to attack us with a knife that lying on the floor. He walked over to Iris and tried to stab her head. I protected her and hugged her. He stabbed my back, just right my bones. He got Iris and hit her temple. I shouted for help. This man was completely insane.
"Please, why did you do that? Why could you do it? " said Iris. She cried, fresh blood adorning her cheeks.
"What do you want?!" I said as clutching my bleeding shoulder. It was bleeding quite a lot. He did not answer me.
He switched to looked at me and pointed to my face with his index finger that was already old. "You…"
Iris shot him right in the head and walked over to me. He should kill me that day. I never thought he will do this. It was James, who already I consider as my own father.
Everything went dark and disappeared then.
"Emmerich?" I heard my name being called.
"Emmerich?" I heard my name being called back. This time the voice more clearly.
"Emmerich? Wake up, it’s just a nightmare!" I opened my eyes and saw Iris. I was glad that I was dreaming.
"What time is it?" I asked.
“It’s one a.m. It’s still night. You got a nightmare, whine and cry. What happened in your dream?"
I was not going to tell her, "Just a bad dream." And after that damn dream, I could not sleep until two o'clock in the morning. If only dream catchers are real, I definitely already bought one, even hundreds. I did not understand either because I did too much sin or negligent running my duty as a religious person until almost every night the Lord gave me a bad dream. I can feel the aches and pains in my dream itself. I feel I can move my legs, walk, talk and determining the direction of my own dream. It was just like a lucid dream. It seems now I can hold a seminar for people who want the ability to air-lucid dreaming.
Afternoon
Every face I met, neither will see a psychiatrist or the one that just out from the psychiatrist’s room, almost all of them showed a grim facial expression. As they are currently in a heavy enough mental burden so that they could not hide it anymore.
I sat in the waiting room while waiting Iris out from her office. She asked me to come to pick her up today. I saw a man walking toward me. However he came not to speak with me or asked something, but only to sit next to me. He was carrying something that he carried in a black plastic bag. He sat down and smiled slightly at me. I smiled at him back. Moments later, his name was called. He walked into one room and disappeared behind the door. The room where Iris worked in it. He consulted with Iris.
Heavy rains flushed the car that we were riding. The radio I set was talking about the weather that lately seems will always rains. "The old man, is he one of your patients?" I asked.
"Yes. William Cohen. He’s about sixty,"
"Is that the same man who have been with you?"
"Yes. He is the same person. I do not think he will visit me again."
I drove with curiosity. I turned down the radio’s volume. "Are there something important?"
"I do not know for sure, I can not just guess if he does not want to talk with me. Each session of the therapy we through awkwardly. It seems like there was something he kept secret." And this conversation began to attract my attention completely. Iris talked again with me. William, who was visiting her and asks the highest dose of anti-depressant and sleeping pills for a few weeks since his last visit. He always asked the same thing: sleeping pills to help him sleep. Strangely enough, why he had asked sleeping pills to a psychiatrist if he could buy it at a pharmacy? There was something he had hidden and he could not say.
That day he came back and became her last patient. He turns shed things that he carried in black plastic bags (which was I saw before), empty plastic bottles of sleeping pills. He went to Iris and pull out all of its contents, that plastic bottles, in front of her desk. He said that no one helped. None of the capsules helped him to fall asleep. It was a sad thing to know that for some people, sleeping is a very easy thing to do, even when in front of public someone was able to fall asleep, but it does not apply to William.
Iris tried to questioned him nicely, "What happened?" He did not answer. Iris told me that glum look on his face, his eye-bag look even bigger and his eyes were looked down. His face seems older than it should be.
Iris spoke to him, "If you did not tell me anything, I will not understand what your problem is and what I should do." He remained silent. He watched his old fingers, that skin-covered bones with a blank stare.
"I'm going home soon, I do not have much time. You can visit me back tomorrow." She was about to leave William when he muttered, said something. He talked with a very small, slow voice. She even was not heard what William was said first. Iris again approached William, "what did you say?"
"It's about my family," he said as he continued to watch his fingers.
"What about your family?" asked Iris, curious.
"It's about my wife, she was insane and in asylum right now,"
"Does she have long entered into asylum?" asked Iris. Curiosity filled her.
"Since few years ago. Now I live alone,"
"What causes her to go into asylum? Did she do something? Or is there something wrong?"
"That's why,"
Iris said as she frowned, "What's caused it?"
"My child. My only child left us forever and I still can not accept it."
Stephanie
December 14, 2004
It was raining pretty heavy, nonstop since that morning. I had nothing to do today, I just laid still in my bed alone since my mother seems had important business. I woke up early in the morning after shocked to heard a noise coming from the kitchen. When I checked out, apparently there was a cat that enters the kitchen of my house and stole a fried fish that I could eat yesterday. Plates fell and scattered, partly broken. Pizza that should be reheated today also fell. Now I did not have anything to eat or any foods left. Only fruits capable I eat, and the fruits was not enough for one day.
I called my mom after trims of glass scattered on the kitchen floor, I asked her whereabouts and what time she'd be home today. I sent her a short message twice and called her once, but she did not answer. She answered thirty minutes later, told me that she would return home late today, possibly night at eight or nine.
If my parents still lived together, I certainly would not feel as lonely as this. I know with or without the presence of my father I also have to keep getting used to living independently, but deep in my heart, I still not able to forget him. I sometimes miss my parents could live together again even though it did not seem possible. Former lover does exist, but there will never be such thing as a former family or former parents. I will never be able to remove
the bond that flows in my own blood.
I hurried to my room and took some money from my wallet to go to the nearest mini market. Rain was still flushed, I was wearing a blue raincoat and boots. I drove quickly left the house to buy some fast food. My stomach was growling. I can grow even thinner if every day like this. I did not want to be this thin again, I lost five kilos of my weight in just two weeks and every time I look in the mirror, I cringed at myself.
Evening
Time showed nearly seven in the evening when I saw him walk in front of my house. I saw him from the window of my room. He was wearing a dark blue raincoat and an umbrella, he smiled when he saw me. He walked toward his house that not far from my house. He walked not alone, but with a woman who was older than him. Frederick, my neighbor, who I've known some time ago. He was the type of person who was quite friendly and attentive.
On the way down the stairs, I felt my cell phone vibrate. Someone called me. Sebastian called me. He said he was on his way to my house. He arrived ten minutes later, with a soaked white shirt and wet hair.
"Gee you're all wet. You can get sick," I said.
He smiled, "It's okay. You got clothes?"
I smiled thinly, "What you want to wear? Mine or my mom’s?" He just smiled and shook his head.
I changed the television channel every twenty minutes. I was confused which show or channel I have to watch. I can not hear the sound of my television due to rain outside the house. Sebastian sat beside me, shirtless, while holding a glass of hot tea. He was shivering a little, just a thick blanket covering his body with panties that were still a bit wet, still he was using it. "Are you still cold?" I asked. He nodded. I got up and lit the fire.
I sat back down on the couch beside him. He looked at me, I could feel his heart beating and hands shaking. "Why?" I asked. "Are you still cold?" He just smiled and nodding.
I rested my head on his chest, feeling his warmth through me. He stroked my hair and kissed me several times. "This is better," he told me. My muscles tightened as he plays his long fingers on my thighs and started to squeeze my breasts. I groaned and gasped his name, "Sebastian…"
I did not want this time’s fleeting.
A few days before Christmas, December 22, 2004
I paced in my room with mixed feelings. The snow had begun to fall since a few months ago, and it was enough to make me cold. I was so anxious, I wanted to stop this anxiety and restlessness, but I can not. So many things were spinning in my brain right now. My father, how’s he doing? What will I do after all these incidents? Why am I like this?
Where was Sebastian? It was been a week since his last visit last December fourteenth, and he never visited me again. Actually that was not really matter because I know it was fair, he might be busy and have to deal with another things. The problem was he never called me or sent me even a short message after that. He actually disappeared for seven days, his phone was off or was out of range. Where and where was he?
The next day, December 23, 2004
I kept watching my cell phone like people who do not have something really important to do. I waited and waited. I continued to send him short messages; where are you now or what are you doing or was I doing something you do not want. I did not like being treated like this, and I hate when I think about it, all my bad premonitions going back ringing in my head.
December 24, 2004, night
I rode my car as fast as lightning toward my old house, my father’s house, the house that was also located next to Sebastian’s house. Sebastian was really ‘hung’ me, gone as if swallowed by earth. It was Christmas Eve, and I did not mind at all if I have to stepped my feet back into my old house. I wanted to see how my father is. I never know afterwards what he did now and with whom he was when the night’s come.
I knocked on the wooden door of my dad’s house, he opened it for me. He was wearing a dark green T-shirt, carrying a cup of hot tea. He smiled and hugged me when he saw me. "I miss you so much," said my father.
"Me too, dad."
He asked me to sit down and asked me where was my mom, "Where is your mother?"
"She is not feeling well. She often come home late lately,"
My father frowned, "Come home late?"
"Yes. Got appointment with her office friend she said, and I do not understand what is really going on." From the look on his face, whether they are separated, there was still a sense of love and curiosity were left in him. My dad still cares about my mom.
"You see Sebastian today?" asked me.
"I rarely see him now. Did not he used to visit you?"
"He does not visited me or called me since the last past week,"
He frowned, "Really? What is wrong? Did you guys break up?"
"I do not know. It seems like there is something really important and I do not know what it is."
Christmas songs sounded and played every time I changed the television channel. I imagined that there must be a lot of families that are now being gathered together enjoying turkey or just talking and joking together in front of the warmth of the fireplace while pleading with Santa Claus to deliver them gorgeous gifts. And there I was, sitting with my dad enjoying a glass of hot lemon tea in front of the television. I wanted to cry, but I was too shy to show what I was really feeling. A feeling of sorrow. Sense of sorrow.
An hour later, at five past eight, I decided to go home. "I have to go home dad. Take care of yourself,"
He smiled at me, "Stay safe and well. Send my greetings to your mom."
I came out after he said this and went to Sebastian’s house. I was about to knock the wooden door when I saw him sitting there with his father. And a young woman. I saw them talking and laughing together, although it seems that he did not really enjoyed the conversation. I grabbed my cell phone and called him. He switched and saw his cell phone, but did not answer my call. Sebastian did not answer my call.
I knocked on the door and rang the bell, he came out and looked at me with surprise. "Stephanie?"
I saw the young woman, she looked back with a quizzical expression. "Why did not you call me? Where are you? And what are you doing here?" I continued my words, "So, it’s all because her you do not answer me anymore? You're spending Christmas Eve with her and not me?"
"No, this is not what you think,"
"And then?" My patience was running out. I was jealous and upset, very upset. "So what? Why? Why Sebastian? Who the hell is she? Your new mother?" I said, grinning. I felt sorry, sorry for myself.
"No, listen to me, do not talk here. I only love you."
I did not say much and walked away. I did not really want to leave, I just testing him. If he was really after me, it means that this was all just a misunderstanding. And if he do not move where he was, it meant he was lying to me all this time.
"Stephanie, wait!" He holds my wrist and prevented me from going.
"You know that I hate cheaters, right?"
"No, listen to me, she’s not what you think she’s."
I walked away and turned on my car. He paused there while holding his head. Why did he do it? Was he just pretending with me all the time, because he took pity on me? Was it true he did this to me? The snow fell accompanied by strong winds as I drove my car home. I did not expect to be like this. It was really the worst Christmas Eve I’ve ever had. I hate all of this. I can not accept this. I heard my cell phone vibrates, he called me. I did not answer it. Five minutes later, he sent me a text message, he said that he was driving behind me and wanted me stop.
I kept driving and did not stop my car.
Emmerich
July 10, 2014
I stepped my foot around tall metal shelves that filled with books. I did not need to try too hard to get rid of boredom who approached me on the sidelines of my work time because I know this boredom would come and go. I just wanted to read a book now. I opened the fifth page book with four hundred pages in front of me. My friend, Lauren, fellow nerds, talked to me when I almost started focus to read. "Do you lik
e classical literature book?" She asked.
I nodded, "Yes." I pointed to the book she was holding, "I also like historical book like that."
"That book," she pointed back toward the book I was holding, "The book that you are reading, it has a lot of borrowers. You can see some pages missing. Its writings also have been lost." She went on to say, "It’s also too long and old, see, the paper had turned yellow."
I saw this book, my eyes staring into each side of the book, check how many pages that have missing or dislodged. "How many pages are missing?" I asked Lauren.
"I do not know, but according to the people, about three or maybe five? It seems deliberately torn,"
"According to the people?"
"People who ever borrowed it. I have to go," a visitor approached her with a confused face. Confused looking for a book title that might stuck between hundreds and maybe thousands of titles.
I opened back this book to the part where permission cards to borrow books and borrowers’ name tucked (which can be found in each books in the library). It was true what Lauren had said, so many people had borrowed this book. It seems like the book was very well known, even though the story was somewhat boring I thought.
Afternoon
"Yes. I'll call again later. It is already in my off hours, so I expect your understanding."
Time showed at five past five when I came home and saw Iris sat in the living room. She was calling by someone. She came home earlier than usual that day. "Who's calling?" I asked.
"My friend. He said his patients forcing him and not allow him to end the session and asked me to help,"
"You're home early,"
"Yes. My head is sore and also my neck. Looks like I'm less rest. My appetite also decrease recently,"