“It’s not here,” she panted as her hands rummaged through the scattered papers. Inscribed in every sheet were the sonatas that she knew. “This is not my song.”
Her breathing was frantic as confusion consumed her actions. Her hands raced the same pieces over and over. Her eyes was glazed with the pain that she endures. Though she tries to hide it underneath her long bangs, one of her eyes was lost and now cove red by a medical patch. Her wrists were bandaged thickly for reasons no one dare to ask. However, these injuries were not enough to spoil the beauty that she always had. But she had lost the thing that makes her whole.
“My song, I had to find my song,” her worried voice trembled. Her legs joined her search, kicking some papers here and there as if time was against her. Her rampant chase stopped when she turned to see a mirror in front of her. She was caught speechless by her own face staring back. Then she let out a small giggle.
“Silly me,” she proclaimed. Her tone sounded relieved but her broken smile did not agree. Her hand held the flat of the mirror as if trying to touch the person that she did not recognize anymore. “I forgot, I am not you anymore.”
Her words sounded cryptic for those who do not understand. When one stares in a mirror, they only see what their reflection shows. But this mirror was her refuge from her unforgiving reality. She saw the days when her serenades still enchanted the air, the days when her ballad was still under her notes, the days when she was not yet the woman she is now. Those fantasies repeated itself endlessly in such a way that it only prolonged her suffering.
But, she had enough and launched her fist into the glass. Her harrowing scream matched the dissonance of the brutal shower of smashing crystals. “YOU CANNOT SING ANYMORE!”
“GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS!” she violently shouted. “THEY ARE ALREADY DEAD!”
The pretense of her existence vanished when her trembling legs collapsed from her out-bursting rage. She lay on the floor; her bitter tears overflowed and fell on her cheeks. Her broken sobs filled the silence of the night. Then came running down was her sister who instantly panic when she saw the ruins. But no matter who tried to comfort her, no one would ever understand the pain of a person who has lost her purpose.
o0o
(Rika)
That rainy morning, the doctor arrived at our house. Despite his age, he managed to heed my call and come right on time. He furrowed his brow and groaned as he studied the results of the report. Then he looked back at me, his wrinkles only made his grimace look worse. With a sigh, he resigned his answer.
“She is in code red,” he declared the obvious. “While I respect your decision to keep her here, I will still recommend for her to stay at the ward. We will take care of her.” He gave the same suggestion that I always reject.
“It is not my decision to keep her here, but hers. Her stress rises most when we are not together. I’m sorry Dr. Adam, but she is safest when she is under a company that she trust.” I rejected his offer and he accepted it with full open mindedness. He knows how fragile was the case with my sister and my actions are not as foolish as it seem.
“I understand, but I will have to change her medicine for this week,” he proclaimed as he opened his bag and handed out the new tablets. “These are stronger than the last. Make her drink it every day before bed or during her breakdowns.”
I hid my disgust as I took it in my hands. They keep on making her drink these chemicals in dosages that make it seem like they plan to turn her blood into poison. This will heal her, they said. This will save her, they said. But in reality, they only end up corrupting what makes her a human. I fake my smile as I shook his hand “Thank you for the time Dr. Adam.”
“Don’t mind it,” he bid his farewell as he grabbed his hat and I assisted him outside. Before stepping into his car, he called out his final reminder, “Don’t be afraid to call me if ever she lost control again, ok?”
“I will,” I promised. Then he drove his way into the horizon.
Now alone once more, I proceeded back into the room where I found her sitting motionless on the floor. She hugged her legs as she sat there with her head staring up into the wall. The shine in her eyes has dimmed into sunken orbs, delicate lips parted softly to prove her breathing. But in whole, she was barren of sign of life. She just lay there like a puppet that has lost its strings.
She was always like this when she takes her medicine. It was supposed to calm her down but in effect, she is no better than a mannequin that awaits her rot. Gone were the days when she still has the courage to cry. But her reality proved to be too painful to endure. And in order to protect herself from herself, she created a different world where she can stay safe.
Her name is Alice - my twin sister. Once upon a time, she was a prodigy of music, the sonorous hymn of her violin masterpieces was known far and wide. She has been through different countries and met wonderful people who saw her works as their anodyne for the soul. Right on the moment her fingers touched her instrument, everything else loses its value. So young she was, to attain so much achievements, that it made me jealous. But deep inside, I recognize her as deserving of it.
Behind the luster of lights, her true nature was far different from her effeminate act. She abandoned school and rejected the value of socialization. She locked herself inside the studio and away from the world. If it won’t improve her craft, she treats it as an annoyance. She struggled with trusting others. If it weren't for her success, people would have deemed her different.
I’ve witnessed everything that she went through, and she saw me as an ally for it. Every time she was done with something, I was always her first audience. Whenever she made another hit, the spoils of her victory was always shared with me. And during the times when her inner conflicts spills out of her control, it was my embrace that she seeks. I was the only person whom she feels assured with.
We know that nothing stays the same forever. But nothing prepared us for that ill twist of fate; a simple car crash that should have only given her a few bruises. But in a spat of horror, her spine was damaged and few ligaments were cut. Those few muscles disabled her wrists and from that day hence, she became the nightmare’s plaything.
Every genius has their own set of madness, and it did not take long for her to be consumed by it. She was unable to accept the news that her dreams are over. Day and night, we seek doctor after doctor who would offer any solution but they just hang their head to show their understanding of our grief. That broke her heart.
She started to act strange. She forgets the most recent things and sometimes, even repeats her actions. Talking to herself and laughing for no reason, she lost her cries but not her despair. Till one night, I just found her cutting her arms, crying, “If they cannot fix me, then I will do it myself.”
I was left with no choice but to call the authorities. It pained me so much when they had to take her to the ward but it was for the best.
It has been two years since that tragedy. She showed improvements and adapted to her modern life. Much as she tried to hide it, she still craves to achieve that dream that was ruthlessly denied of her. She spends her time back at her studio; her notes littered the floor just as how it has always been. She does not want to forget, but neither does she want to stay the same. I know that she has her own ways of dealing with it, I just had to wait.
In order to break the silence, I tried to cheer her up. “Hey Alice, do you want to go to the beach next week?” I asked her but there was no response. Her eyes were lifelessly fixed on nothingness. Her trophies and ribbons decorated the blankness of the walls. They were good memories once, but on the day we lost our prayers, they are nothing more than the haunting verses of our past.
“That’s right, Alice, let’s go to the beach!” I tried to act cheerful for her. I knew she was listening. “Just the two of us. Let’s pack our cutest swimsuits, reserve in the finest hotel and who knows? We might find ourselves some males. Lured by the seductive allure of glistening oils and strong scent of lust, they shall be falling to our tricks and traps. Let’s make a sport of their desires and leave them enraged at how they almost had it. What do you say?”
“Or better yet, let’s take a vacation to some highlands and try skiing. Together, let’s play with some real snow and not with the frozen smog of the city. Just tell me where, I can reserve a flight for it any time you want.”
She slightly opened her mouth for an answer. I felt joy when I saw it, but not when I heard it “Hey Martha, do you hate me?”
I froze from her word. “Just why would you say that?”
“Every day, every day, every day!” Her voice was laced with an increasing anger. “You keep on saying those things as if I am normal. Do you know how painful it is for me to know that your life still goes on while mine has ended already?!”
Suddenly, she jumped to her legs like an enrage beast. Her face overflowed with hate, her flaring eyes burned into mine. “I am not an idiot! I know that I have lost everything! There is nothing worth for me to live for. Why do you keep pestering me like this?!”
All her emotions erupted in a storming wrath. I was left speechless and my color was drained. When her outburst finally cooled down, the realization of her act hit her hard. In shame, she planted both of her palms to her face and once more, I heard the sadness that she tried to hide for all those years.
”I’m sorry,” she cried and took a step back, undeniably regretting her act. “I didn't mean to.”
She tried to apologize but her legs tripped and she fell. I immediately rushed to her rescue, but it was too late. Her back fell into the glass table. Tiny shards of glasses pierced her clothes and sliced her flesh. The floor was tinted red from the bits blood that flowed after.
“I can’t feel anything,” she cried as we lay there, injured. Her wails echoed through our lonely walls. “I can’t play my music anymore. I cannot even feel the pain. Why can’t I just die?”
Under that question, I was unable to do anything else but to hold her.
