That day, I lost myself. And so is the petal that held my sense of taking responsibility.
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The dorm, a hotel room, is still lit in darkness. No light bulbs were turned on, except for the one left inside the bustling bathroom. A constant drop of shower can be heard inside, until it silences as it is turned off, the light as well, and then the door opens as Trizha exits the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body. One step out, a slippery sound, her head lifted down without the bright smile she had just moments ago.
She lifted her head, her expression revealed to be unreadable and emotionless. She then turned her gaze to the right towards the living room, noticing a noticeable miso ramen that was mysteriously placed on top of a small table in the middle of the living room. She was confused for a second, until she remembered; it was the very last miso ramen she had, saving it for later after eating the others with Wyne a few days ago.
She then silently walked into the living room and approached the table containing the miso ramen in it, grabbed it and lifted it off from the table, taking a good look at it.
Trizha, in her thoughts: "Right. I forgot to eat this earlier… I hope its not expired."
She thought, placing it back into the table and leaving to change clothes. A few minutes later, Trizha returns to the living room, wearing more flamboyant clothing than neutral or usual. She turned on the lights before approaching the mirror, staring at herself, and then she closed her eyes and opened them once again, but this time, putting on a smile and a cheerful expression.
Trizha, in her thoughts: "I feel uneasy."
Trizha took out her phone and turned it on while she walked back to the table where she last placed the miso ramen just a moment ago, taking a seat on the couch in front of it and then placing a camera on the table next to the Miso Ramen. She grabbed the ramen before standing up and walking into the kitchen to cook it up.
And when it did, she walked back into the living room and sat back on the couch, her eyes on the camera, and her ramen bowl in her hands. She stared at the two objects for a few moments, trying to decide whether she should take a video of her eating the ramen bowl for clout or just eat without revealing herself to the world. She felt uneasy, she felt like she couldn't do this, and she doesn't know why. It was as if these feelings were trying to keep her from performing her passion, or was it just because she was too tired for something like this.
She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, telling herself "Don't stop me now…" before placing the bowl into the table, putting on a smile and a cheerful facade once again, before turning on the live. However, she started with a stutter…
Trizha: "H-hello everyone! Trizha here once again! Also, sorry for not being online, the la luna sangre hotel really had a lot of events for me to deal with! Also…"
Trizha then makes a smirk as she grabs the ramen bowl and places it above her knees, ignoring its hot surfaces. Meanwhile, the live show was getting bombarded with skyrocketing views, likes, and comments. She smiled at the moment, speaking while analysing their responses.
Trizha: "T-take a look! The last ramen bowl I had. I forgot to eat this earlier, but I guess I was saving it for later… or for you guys!"
She laughs cheerfully in a joking manner, grabbing a spoon and about to take a spoonful of ramen, but not until she notices the comment section responding with;
"What's with the eyebags?"
"You look tired…"
"Another miso ramen video? New content please!"
"Are you okay?"
The comments were filled with concerns, some being complaints. It was natural that they'd do so. After all, Trizha usually makes a video a day, and seeing her in her lowest while at the same time, not posting up to date, was suspicious. She laughed nervously, almost breaking character, then shrugging her arms to shrug off their concerns, before deciding to take a bite of a spoonful of miso ramen.
She lifted her head, showing herself eating to the audience, smiling, like she said she would, like what she always wanted to do… for the decision of "finally" moving on. She wanted to show she could endure it all, well, she very well could now. The conflict was lost, and there is nothing she could ever grasp to take responsibility–
"BLEEGGHHH!!"
Suddenly, she leaned down and vomited. Disgust flowing into her face, the taste of the miso ramen instantly became very sour, very bitter, and moreover… trash.
Trizha pant, breathing heavily, her gaze completely down on the puke she left on the floor that was given for shelter. She then lifted her head up and turned on the miso ramen bowl she was supposed to crave for not only satisfaction, but clout… it came down to her reality that the food in her eyes was…
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Already filled with stained mold that was heated.
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Her eyes grew wide, shock lingered on her face, the food that she sometimes considered her comfort dish, the food that she always shared whenever they were still there, had betrayed her appetite. And so, anger grew deep within her and accidentally muttered a sentence she would say in secret;
"...Disgusting."
She said to herself, already calmed. She leaned away, sitting straight, holding the bowl she herself called a disappointment, and placed it back on the table. Then suddenly, a notification appeared on her screen, and she saw it just by the side of her sight. She turned her eyes on it, and to her surprise, the comments had once again… skyrocketed.
"What the hell did she just call it?"
"Hey! It's not 'disgusting'!"
"How dare you? I'm Japanese and I felt insulted!"
"People made that with love, you called it disgust."
"The way you vomited all that food out is just so disgusting… and you repeated that word."
"I was gonna throw up, but nevermind! You did it already!"
"Not cool."
"The first flop… This is a first!"
"I was going to follow you for being the one who was gonna review my favorite… I'm offended."
This time, Trizha's eyes grew even wider. She doesn't notice, but she is leaning on the screen. She wanted to apologize immediately, to complain, make a validly real excuse, to tell the world that what she vomited was already dead to begin with. But she didn't. Why? Because of one comment.
"You used to eat that with your friends, didn't you? Where are they? Did they leave you? Oh wait, maybe this is because you always hated miso ramen! With your friends gone, you can freely criticise it! And to think you were gonna do it live… How idiotic."
She was left speechless by that comment, freezed even. "No, it was expired… I love miso ramen… and my friends… they… t-they…" She said, in her thoughts, unable to express it. All the viewers sees is a mannequin, doing absolutely nothing but stare at the screen, her eyes being the only ones that are moving; the more she reads, the more she realizes the consequence of her simple actions…
"He's right! Where are they?"
"This is Malacca's famous Influencer? Disappointing."
"You really had to do it on live, did you?"
"Idiot with no friends!"
"Haha, your friends probably left you and now you're expressing your anger over food!"
"No friends? Get a life!"
"How about your boyfriend? Where's he too? I thought he's your 'Prince charming'."
More and more of similar comments bombarded the entire section. There are other comments trying to defuse the situation by making an understanding and helping Trizha, knowing that she was probably just tired or exhausted, and an exhausted person sometimes doesn't think straight. It was a debate, a debate whether the understanding or constant criticism should win. But Trizha… only saw the criticism. She was offended. And what offended her the most… was the way they said "No Friends"...
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Trizha: "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! You all don't know what happened, what I did! Don't go saying things like you knew what happened to my freaking life! You all don't know anything at all!"
She yelled, right at the screen, her cheerful facade was gone In an instant, the instant those comments filled the section. She will fight for what's left of her, defend from those who dared question her… that's who she is. Considered as one of the best, she took advantage of that out of her own arrogance.
Trizha: "That's right, my friends left. In fact, they are no longer my friends! They all left me, and that's all because of you!! Because I have no other choices other than this, I failed when I had my chance!!"
The more she complains, the more she is out of her mind, and the more the world misunderstood what she meant.
"Suddenly, this is our fault? What the heck did we do to you??"
"We didn't do anything!"
"Nah! She is exaggerating now!"
"Angry Trizha in the big 2024!"
"She's blaming us for something she did, typical attention seeker! I knew she was one!"
"Unfollowing coming right up!"
"Surprise, surprise. Big failure for a little exhaustion. I'm a hater, and I wanted to dig a deep hole for your loss. But I don't need to, you did it yourself."
After that one last comment, she snapped out of it—she grabbed her phone and threw it away aggressively, before curling into a ball on the couch, hugging herself as she sobbed, even if the room itself was shining bright in its own light that she turned on herself. She had enough of it. And surely, the world knows the she they know of now.
…Somewhere else, Zackier stood up from a chair, holding a phone whose screen showed an early ended live video about Trizha Frantzes, mischievously grinning to himself. And as he stood, another of someone's arm extended to him, and he took it with such gentleness.
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"Are we… really going to ignore her? We're not going to help her?"
Said by Margaret, who's sitting on the clinic bed, her gaze on Wyne's phone screen, before turning to her with a concerned expression, waiting for Wyne's response. Meanwhile, Wyne is staring at the phone as well, with intrigue yet emotionless demeanor in her face.
Wyne: "Of course not. Why would we?"
Margaret: "She hurt us, both ways. I know. But right now, she's the one who's hurt…"
Wyne: "That's called consequences, or karma, i don't know…"
Margaret: "And yet, you don't feel 'right' watching her raging out…"
Wyne: "...yeah. But that's not our business anymore. She's on her own."
Margaret: "If she is alone, there's a good chance that she will randomly trip from the water and die on the spot."
Wyne then turns to Margaret, annoyed at the random dark humor yet again.
Wyne: "You know what else is random? The thing you just said right now."
Margaret's eyes widened, a feeling of uneasiness occurred inside her as she slowly looked away and looked down in depression.
Margaret: "Sorry…"
And in an Instant, Wyne's annoyed expression disappeared, noticing her instant change in demeanor and atmosphere. Concern fills her face, more than Margaret had with Trizha. She extended her arm and placed it on Margaret's shoulder.
Wyne: "Hey… when did you become depressed after saying something dark? You don't usually do that…"
Margaret: "Yeah… I usually just shrug it off, but I feel uneasy and down whenever someone reminds me of my habit."
Wyne: "Now you're talking too much, too…"
Margaret: "I mean, it's just us in this clinic. And besides, you're not like me—staying silent all the time when no one is talking to me…"
Wyne's expression softens even more, leaning away as she instinctively caresses Margaret's hair softly and gently, observing her expression that's down and depressed.
Wyne: "...You're not exactly a quiet girl, are you. It's fresh seeing you finally talking back-to-back."
Margaret smirks, letting out a few chuckles.
Margaret: "You're not exactly slow-minded either…"
Wyne: "Hah, you knew?"
Margaret: "Observation is no joke. In fact, you don't even act like one, only sometimes. It's all just your defence mechanism."
Wyne then suddenly punches Margaret in her arm lightly, laughing along with Margaret.
Wyne: "You know too much. Should I end your life right now?"
Margaret: "Like you can try."
Wyne: "Yeah, yeah. You're too cute to be killed by my hands."
Both of them laugh at one another, leaning into each other, their voices intertwined like fingers. This felt better when she wasn't there to take the spotlight, to act like the boss or the leader, to act like everything is always about her. But for some reason, it also feels wrong, at least, for the both of them. They were incomplete, after all.
As their laughs died down, Margaret turned to Wyne, feeling much better than before, as she spoke first hand.
Margaret: "Also… Trizha said something in that live, didn't she?"
Wyne: "Said about what…?"
Margaret: "The part where she blamed the comment section for something they didn't do… what was that about?"
Wyne looked at Margaret with a raised eyebrow, contemplating what she just said. Then, a thoughtful look emerges in her face as she slowly leans back against the chair she is sitting on, lifting and tilting her head backward as she gazes at the ceiling, slowly speaking in a softer tone as she drifts into her imagination at the same time.
Wyne: "...I'm not sure if what I'm about to say is accurate, or if I'm right, but… it's something that's similar…"
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"She blamed them, the viewers, the audience themselves… all because she thought they were the reason she is at the 'stage' she is standing on right now."
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Margaret raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side as she also tried to contemplate what Wyne said.
Margaret: "...So, you're telling me that she already had extreme anxiety back then…?"
Wyne's thoughtful look instantly disappeared as she immediately looked at Margaret in both shock and surprise, or flabbergasted, at Wyne's theoretical remark about Trizha. Which, to her surprise…
Wyne: "Eh? How'd you get that right?!"
Margaret: "Ah, probably because I think faster."
Wyne: "...that's sarcasm, is it?"
Margaret: "Perhaps. And now that you mentioned that I was right, how did it occur? If you know, that is…"
Wyne: "Well…"
Wyne then stands up from her chair and approaches forth to grab her purse from the front that's in a chair, before sitting back on her chair and softly takes out a certain ticket, handing it to Margaret with a neutral expression in her face. Margaret takes the ticket with intrigue and a little bit of confusion in her face, looking down at the ticket as she observes its appearance; it's dirty, old, stained with rust coming from iron that was probably connected with it for years to so. Then, surprise emerges out of her face as she recognizes the design of the ticket.
Margaret: "This ticket… it's…"
Wyne: "Yeah. Asia's Got talent audition ticket back from late 2015. Exactly nine years ago, too…"
Margaret's head instantly lifted up as she looked at Wyne in astonishment, gripping the ticket in excitement while also trying to hide it despite the visibility.
Margaret: "Are you telling me that Trizha used to be in an audition in Asia's Got talent?!"
Wyne: "Uh-huh. Trizha was still a reckless idiot back then, though…"
Wyne takes back the ticket, her touch gentle as nostalgia hits her like a blow, staring at it with glistening eyes. She almost chuckled at the thought, almost letting it out.
Wyne: "Thinking I also had talent worthy enough to enter the audition, she recklessly paid for two tickets—one for me, one for her, without hesitation or a thought. I was still in recovery that day after barely surviving cancer… she took this as a celebration for my survival, though. It's a sweet proposal or reward, but I declined eventually and decided to keep this ticket. I didn't want to become an Idol like her."
Margaret crosses her arms, the intrigue fading as she realizes what this meant. What happened that day, compared to these days. The fact is, she never became an idol.
Margaret: "...And I'm guessing she failed?"
Wyne: "I guess… she never told me. In fact, she never did. She told me that, since I wasn't going to come with her to the audition, she told me to wait for her to return to the hospital the following day after the audition. She didn't return the next day, the next day after that, and then the next… until she returned a week after."
Wyne's expression suddenly loses its spark, replaced with sadness combined with concern as she remembered that day. She gripped the ticket she held for years to go, continuing to speak.
Wyne: "And when she did, she told me her audition was 'fine' and that she did great. Then suddenly, she bragged about being an Idol was her second dream, and being an Influencer was her top dream… It was strange. But she said that with hesitation in her tone, and I could tell. She definitely had a panic attack facing countless crowds in front."
Margaret: "That means…"
Wyne: "Yeah. She lied. Now she lives to suffer in that same lie she wanted 'real' because she already decided to take that Route."
Margaret: "I see."
Margaret sighs as she lays flat on her bed, her right hand caressing her left elbow, staring at the same ceiling Wyne was staring at just a moment ago.
Margaret: "No wonder you always get frustrated watching her do the one thing she can only do. You hated the fact that she thought she has always been chained up by that lie when she always was free to run to the other ROUTES. And of course, she always blew it, from day one to day now."
Wyne suddenly let out an annoyed sigh as she stood up and grabbed her purse while putting the ticket back inside.
Wyne: "I hate it that you always guess everything right… it breaks the tension…!"
She says, but with a playful tone in it. She went to grab a few items before stopping into the door frame of the exit as she took her time to put her shoes on, speaking to Margaret at the same time doing so.
Wyne: "Anyways, I'll be taking my leave—I'm going to meet up with my dad outside and discuss my recovery plans that's going to start on late Monday. Well, I probably won't be joining the Prom night… but, anyways, I'll go buy you something you want, so just tell me while I'm preparing."
Margaret stares at Wyne for a second, silence combined with an emotionless expression while she sat up from her bed, gaze on Wyne. And so, she makes her speech.
Margaret: "Sure. I want to ask you a question."
Wyne froze for a second after Margaret's statement, slowly turning her head to her with a raised eyebrow, waiting for her question.
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"If Trizha were to apologize and decided to take a different Route this time, would you accept it?"
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Wyne stared blankly at Margaret's eyes, but instead of answering, she turned around and went to leave, muttering "I won't."
When Wyne is gone, Margaret grabs a pillow and hugs it tightly, staring at the floor, hiding a smirk, muttering a word as well…
"Liar."
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One step, then another, and then another, until a foot emerges from the dark and soon everything becomes clear; a blonde-headed girl walking in a small-spaced hallway, soft and gentle movements off the floor despite the fast-paced walking.
"Zack, Zack… w-where are you? Where were you? Come back here, to my room… I need you right now…"
Each step becomes louder, intensified even, one hand free from grasp while another is clenched. As much as steps did, the light did the same—the closer, the brighter she approached it. Her make-up room, that is.
"What a coincidence. You asked the question I wanted to ask you myself… Where were you?"
Right. That was yesterday. The words that fill my mind, the dialogues that spoke without voice… that was yesterday. I stood and walked firm around the living room nervously, desperately calling for Zack through my phone. Where was he yesterday? It's a question I always had in my mind after an attempt with the Internet, as always.
"Zack, please… I don't want to hear riddles. I terribly need you right now…"
"Shhh… calm down, darling."
Alas, she entered her room, a slow, gentle close of the door with an unintentional locking of it. She approached a chair, sat down, stared at a mirror in front of her face, grabbed a brush filled with fresh foundations, and so began her work for a new mask.
"I was leading you to my 'surprise' until you let go of my hand and blended into the crowd… I guess it got delayed."
"I-i I'm sorry–"
"No no, don't. It was my fault for leaving such beauty off my grasp… say, how about a date in the early morning? We'll meet by the fountain, and there, I will show you my 'surprise.'"
Foundations. Facial Powders. Brushes. Eyeliners. Literally everything to hide a facade. Staring at the mirror with this face, I realized something—now that he mentioned it… what surprise? A surprise of what? It's today… I wanna know.
Suddenly, one of the brushes rolled down and fell from the table. Trizha lifted her head down and looked directly at the fallen brush, hesitating for a second before leaning down to grab it. Then, the moment she barely laid a finger on the brush, she spoke.
???: "What are you doing?"
Trizha's eyes opened wide, silently startled at the oddly familiar voice… that was hers. She leaned up and lifted her head, and by her surprise, it was her. Not who, nor whoever, nor any. It's her reflection in the mirror. Her face, the hair, the torso, everything accurately believable was in that reflection. The difference? The expressions—The real has a look of surprise, while the other is blank and emotionless, like two sides of a coin.
Trizha 2: "Quit with the suppression, I'm asking you a question—what are you doing here, putting all the make-up and preparations. And for what? To satisfy the other? Let me remind you, you're tired. Exhausted, even. Get some goddamn rest…"
The words exclaimed by the reflection fill Trizha's mind, and in an instant, the surprise in her face Instantly replaced with half uncertainty, half nonchalance and deep realization.
"Ah… is this what they call a 'sign of redemption'? Something where a person starts seeing things when losing their minds… right, she's a delusion of the real me."
Trizha thought, as her head tilted slightly.
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"I know what you're thinking."
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The reflection said, and still, it didn't surprise Trizha. After all, even after everything since yesterday and another day after that, she is aware. A movie lover knows exactly what this is—a sign of redemption, a forceful one. Then, Trizha replied, her tone lower and more serious, mirroring the one that was already in a mirror.
Trizha 1: "Know what I have in mind or not, that's none of your business."
Trizha 2: "No, I'm pretty sure it is. It is my business, after all, I've been waiting since day one. Tell me, when are you going to finally stop masking yourself with a facade you never wanted to wear?"
Trizha 1: "As long as it keeps me sane."
Trizha 2: "But you're no longer sane. You're just making acknowledgement to anything that comes across like what seems to be obstacles…"
Trizha 1: "Acknowledgements? Well, part of that is true… but also, not."
Trizha 2: "Tsk. Enough. Just stop this, and go rest. I'm not even kidding—you cried first hand, then cried the next second, and then the next, all in just a span of minutes. You're telling me that you won't receive the same thing once this next one happens?"
Trizha 1: "...Look at you—acting, blabbering, yapping, anything like you seem to understand everything, all just to tell me to make a stop and finally rest… when In reality, you don't. You don't understand, at all. I am moving on, and you—a delusion, a reflection, a fragmented illusion of my reality—is still sitting on the same chair as always. Why don't you just stay in my memories and face it? Just like Wyne, you are also…
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"...Just another random add-on to my life."
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The reflection, visibly confused by the statement, obviously raised an eyebrow. It almost scoffed and chuckled at such a ridiculous statement thinking that Trizha… had no idea what she was talking about.
Trizha 2: "Hah? What? I'm sorry, heh… me? An add-on? Trizha, you're talking about yourself–"
Trizha 1: "No, I'm pretty sure…"
As she cut the reflection off, she lifted an arm, and then an index finger, pointing directly at the now more visibly confused reflection of Trizha herself, her gaze down on her, a look that mirrors a sense of authority, looking down at the reflection like… it was, as always, lower than her.
"...pretty sure… that I'm talking about you."
Eyes widened, a sweat fell, a visible and dramatic deep realization lingered on the reflection's face. Trizha… was never talking about herself, but herself. The real her, the her she always hid. It realized what Trizha meant by that… she had also, recklessly even, decided to abandon Herself.
Trizha 2: "You… you're…–"
Trizha 1: "Messed up? I don't care. Like I said before, just you stay."
And so, she stood up firmly, staring down on the reflection before turning around to take her leave, but suddenly, stopped on her tracks when the reflection once again spoke;
"You're entirely mistaken… I am not an add-on, I am not a delusion, and I am not the real you. You don't even know me, and I'm afraid that you don't know You either."
Trizha froze at the remark, especially the last few words said, but soon scoffed and continued to walk out of the room, starting with grabbing the doorknob, twisting it open, pulling the door and walking across it, and finally…
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…She entered the living room of her house, wearing a school uniform with a depressed expression, the atmosphere hot as sunlight entered the room by the window. And in her hand, carries a broken camera. Her adoptive mother, Claria, turns to Trizha from the kitchen. Noticing her expression,Claria's concern grows from thin to thick, putting down her kitchen ladle utensil to speak up to her.
Claria: "Hey, how's school today? You don't… look cheerful."
Trizha: "It's nothing…
Her eyes then lowered to the camera Trizha was holding, gradually getting more confused by the second. She wanted to ask about it, concerned that something definitely happened today. But couldn't, because she knows that it might upset her.
Claria: "Do you… need anything?"
Trizha: "No, I'm just… going to my bedroom."
Trizha made one step forward towards the stairs, another towards the exit of her dorm, another towards the stairs, and then another, one another, to the next, until… She's out of the dorm with preparedly fresh make-up and a sweet dress that does not fit with the current lost-the-sense-of-self expression.
Claria: "Trizha… wait–"
Before Claria could catch up to Trizha, who was about to climb the stairs, Trizha's Grandmother suddenly appears and stops Claria by blocking her with her old cane.
Grandmother: "Again, that's as far as you go, Claria."
The Grandmother's eyes then turn to Trizha, watching her lift her head up the stairs and stare at the top of it, before taking another step just to climb up.
Grandmother: "Right about now, the only person capable of dealing with someone like her… is me."
She said before following her granddaughter up the stairs. Trizha took another step upstairs, and then another down the hallways of the hotel, another upstairs, then the hallways, until she reached her bedroom, and until she found an elevator, slowly walked towards it, and patiently waited for it open without a care for the world while standing before it, at least, this time.
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"Trizha."
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Trizha's eyes widened as she got startled by her name getting called out, immediately turning around and seeing her grandmother standing before her inside her bedroom, a vulnerably sad expression emerging out of her face slowly…
Grandmother: "...Do you want to cry and let it all out on your grandma's shoulders?"
She said, before spreading her arms and leaving herself vulnerable to Trizha, just like how the elevator spread its own doors without anyone in it, and Trizha took advantage of that by simply stepping into it.
The more floors the elevator paused, the more people started to occupy the space the elevator used to own, as Trizha stood at the center of the crowd with nothing but blankness and coldness in her face.
Student 1: "Hey… that's the Trizha, right? She looks down more than ever, like a statue…"
Student 2: "Yeah, I would have instantly taken the opportunity to ask her questions, but I don't think she's open for that…"
As the two witnesses decide to stay silent, the elevator once again reopened and Trizha accidentally bumps into one of the students while rushing out, not even caring to apologize in the matter.
The sky was dark of clouds covering the sunlight that desperately wanted to hit the ground, nearby students who were outside were already entering available shelters even though it hadn't rained yet, almost to the point that Trizha was the only one left, as she slowly approached the area where the fountain lies…
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"So you broke your camera just because you realized that you made someone feel miserable and had the school sections hate him?"
Her grandmother said, as she stroked and caressed Trizha's hair gently and slowly while she was hugging her own grandmother as they sat on the floor comfortably, unshed tears forming in her eyes.
Trizha: "Yeah… I'm sorry… I'm very sorry…"
Grandmother: "Shhhhh…"
She caressed Trizha's hair a bit deeper, trying to comfort her with the best she can, her expression softening even more at sight of her baby, Trizha, finally realizing her reckless mistakes.
Grandmother: "It's fine, as long as you know what you did without ever losing yourself, it's fine."
Trizha: "...Losing myself?"
Grandmother: "That's right. If things like this happen to you, I hope you don't lose yourself in the time being or else you'll lose everything."
Trizha leaned away from her grandma's shoulder and looked at her with a confused expression and one unshed tear by her left.
Trizha: "But grandma… don't you think that's a bit odd? Why would I lose everything if the only thing I'm supposed to lose is myself?"
Trizha's Grandmother's smile widens at the question, as she patted Trizha's head and then caressing it once again.
Grandmother: "Because, Trizha, yourself is your… everything. And that everything is what holds you altogether. The moment you lose it, yourself, will be the very, very moment you lose everything. So until you regain your sanity without any distractions… no allowances for a week!"
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"Grandma, that day compared to now… not only were you so right, you were also wrong. So wrong. In ways I surely didn't expect. First, I lost my friends. Then the people who supported me. Then I lost my sense of responsibility. My connection. And then… myself. You said I'd lose everything once I've lost myself, and yet, I lost everything before I lost myself. It all started with me, it ended with me. 'Everything' became the progress of the entire conflict. It's all confusing, all the more worse as I hurt myself more… but… surely… none of that matters, for now. After all…"
One last step, and finally, she stopped in her tracks. She paused in the walks, in the stairs she went just to reach the fountain by only several meters away. In the distance, she sees it, she sees him. Her hair flew like waving waves of oceans. She sees him, standing next to the fountain, waiting… for someone. Someone, like her.
"After all… even though I lost everything, despite almost all the petals that have left me as the flower in itself, there is this one petal that stayed. He's still here. He's waiting for me by the fountain. That man… is Zackier, I hope."
She thought as she smiled. The conflict was lost, no longer interacted by any means necessary, in exchange for losing all but one petal. And that petal… is the final everything that held her together.
The atmosphere softens, sounds have silenced, winds stopped flowing, all as if time itself has freezed. And then she took a step forward, expectations lingering in her mind… or was it? It doesn't matter, at least, what she thought. All that matters is between Trizha herself and this one petal…
She extended her arm, as if reaching for Zackier. His back is turned against her, waiting. She wanted to call for his name, she wanted all the attention to herself. And as she did, she got closer, closer, and closer. But suddenly… she froze. She didn't take a step, and yet, the sounds of steps are heard. It wasn't her, but rather… another girl rushed towards Zackier with renewed intensity.
Girl: "Zacky!"
Zackier: "Oh, there you are. I've been waiting impatiently for you."
The girl jumped into Zackier's arms with a bright smile on her face, the sound of laughing and giggling filled the earth with a much lighter atmosphere. At the same time, Trizha stood there in shock, completely stunned at the sight. What she thought had stayed, had already left. The petal she thought would stay, had left. And so, countless emotions cross her mind, all too compelling, all too overwhelming, and all too much to bear…
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She lost everything just to see something as absurdly ridiculous as this.
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Flabbergasted or too shocked at the moment, Trizha ran away as Zackier's gaze followed her movements, seemingly… pleased at such a depressing sight.
She ran, and ran, and ran. Each step she made was loud, and that made it worse when rain started to pour off the clouds, thunder and lightning surges, and everything got louder and louder. The rain masked her tears, the lightning masked her screams and sobs. All for what? Exactly. Just to witness something so absurdly ridiculous.
"No… no, no, no! Get out! Get out of my mind!!!"
Said by Trizha herself, a girl of sixteen years. Running away to whatever is in her horizons. Tears fell from her eyes as she ran as fast as she could, with shaky hands, and people in her mind… that wanted her to realize the consequences of getting to such an extent just for a pathetic reward.
Wyne: "You called me an add-on, just for this? You're no longer the same person who saved me…"
Margaret "You dislocated my elbow just to get cheated by your boyfriend!"
T. Marcela: "How much more discipline do you need for this? I don't need to. You're on your own!"
Nomoro: "I just wanted to apologize. But you 'returned the favor' and you made me take the burden of this conflict… you have no shame."
Due to the rainy outpost of the weather, and grey clouds covering the shining sunlight of the sun that gives heat and life, none could tell the difference between tears and pure rain drops. But who cares? No one wants to see the vulnerability of a person who hurts others just for their sake. That's all she had in thought—believing that she's a monster for ruining everything just for this. A monster… is a monster, no matter how sad it is.
She ran and ran, fast and faster, desperate and panicked, broken all out of fear, not from others, but herself. She thought it was over so she looked around—they were still here, all of them. They're all pointing down their fingers against her. Her eyes widened, realizing the depth of her mistake—she really did ruin everything. Suddenly, before she knew it, she fell down to a staircase she once was in front of her, out of her sight. Each loud thud of her falling down the staircase, reminded her of how many times she damaged the people she cared about.
It took a while before she was done falling from the staircase, and she stayed laying down there. She gasped for air, breathing heavily while slowly standing up for herself. Her vision was in a state of vertigo, but soon cleared slightly and noticed a pillar that was standing just right next to the dormitory area.
Slowly but surely, she walked towards the pillar, her face emotionless, efforts are up for nothing, wet hair, and wet dress. Her earlier make-up started falling apart, revealing almost half of her original facade. She sat down in front of the pillar with her back leaned against it and curled into a ball, hugging her legs as she hid her face using her arms. Hoping… that no one would come to pursue her ever again. At least… what she hoped would happen.
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"Are you okay?"
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Suddenly, for a moment, she felt as if the rain had stopped, even though she could still hear raindrops nearby. It was loud, and yet for now, it stopped pouring her body. She lifted her head and her gaze, and noticed an umbrella above her. She then lowered her gaze very slowly… until she found herself surprised. There is someone in front of her; a young man who's large for his age, eyes that look like one of a cat's, a gentle and soft expression, and short black hair. It's… him. Nomoro Ketatsuki.
Nomoro: "...I said, are you okay?"
Trizha looked up to Nomoro with bewilderment in her face. But soon enough, her expression softened and she hid her face against her arms again, but she then responded to his question all while her face was still covered.
Trizha: "...What are you doing here?"
Nomoro: "I came here for you, to get you to shelter. It's raining badly."
Trizha: "...Didn't you remember what I did to you?"
Nomoro: "Did what?"
Trizha: "Hurt you. I hurt you, Nomoro. Badly."
She once again lifted her head and stared at Nomoro's face. She can remember what his face looked like when she first hurt him. But that didn't bother her anymore—she's too lost to herself that nothing else mattered.
Trizha: "That damage I inflicted on you is my silent reminder for you to back off… so that you have to get hurt again because of me."
Nomoro: "Hurt me or not, it doesn't matter…"
Nomoro then reaches his hand for Trizha, hope fill his eyes.
Nomoro: "You'll get sick if you stay here for too long. Come on, let's get you back to our dorm–"
All of the sudden, Trizha aggressively swats and pushes his hand away from her, as she unwrapped her arms from her legs, stood up instantly, and grabbed his collar and pulled him closer until she started yelling at his face.
Trizha: "Oh shut up!! What makes you think I deserve consideration, let alone yours?!"
Trizha then shoved Nomoro away aggressively, gritting her teeth in pure rage and frustration while Nomoro stayed unfazed by her.
Trizha: "Do you even have the slightest idea of what I did to you? Heck, do you even remember any of it? Did you even realize that I put shame in your name when you already had it? Huh?! I did it twice!! Twice! All just to make you scram out of my pathetic existence!!"
Nomoro: "None of that matters."
Trizha: "None of it matters?? Bullshit!! What do you know?! What could you possibly know of what I did while you were away?! While you were out there trying to figure out how to apologize for my stupidity and immaturity?! What do you freaking know?! What do you… what do… hahaha…"
And so, Trizha started to laugh maniacally, lifting her arm and covering her eyes with the palm of her hand, completely out of her own mind.
Trizha: "...Alright, fine! I'll tell you everything since you are so clueless… and since you are so clueless, How about I tell what kind of person I really am?!"
"I always go out there looking for friends when I always end up breaking them in the end! I act like I care for the people I know when I only relied on them for my own sake! I always crave attention when I never did the same for them! I always act tough like I'm the best in the world when I'm not! I blame all my mistakes on strangers when they did nothing but support me! I push people away so that they don't have to bother me anymore when they just want to fix everything! I accepted my own lies, expecting that it'll do fine when it won't! I expected that everything would go right and decide to move on just because the conflict was lost but it didn't!! It's just lost! It was never gone! And it will never do so because you're still here pestering and bothering me with my stupid, pathetic life!!! Tell me, Nomoro, what makes you think I deserve an apology?! What makes you think I deserve forgiveness? Deserving to sleep peacefully after everything I've done?! After all the pain I caused?! AFTER EVERYTHING–"
Nomoro: "I forgive you."
…Silence. Suddenly, everything went silent after that one sentence, including denial, anger, rage, hatred, everything. Except for confusion. Trizha stepped back for a moment and stared directly at Nomoro's eyes, looking for any sign of lies from within. There wasn't any. A genuine answer to everything she went through, thus, an answer she never expected to hear from someone like him.
Trizha: "You… forgive me? Why?"
Nomoro: "Because it was never your intention to hurt me.
Trizha: "...B-but I made people beat you up till you're down…"
Nomoro: "And yet, here I stand."
Trizha: "I made everyone hate you more than necessary!"
Nomoro: "If it means they believe in what I am, then it is what it is."
Trizha: "But I went too far on you in the most unreasonable way…!"
Norasao: "Then I'll take it for granted in the most reasonable way."
Trizha: "Why are you taking EVERYTHING like it's no big deal for you?!"
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"Because… you were the big deal."
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She gasped, her eyes grew wide, looking at Nomoro in shock at the revelation of his words. He's right. All this time, this entire… she was the big deal. Nomoro looks down on Trizha, his expression as soft as a jelly, eyes that show, not nonchalance, but acknowledgement of everything that occurred. He watched as Trizha fell to her knees and started crying again while covering her face with her hands. It took her a while to finally stop crying, and when it did, she started speaking. Her tone… involves a sense of uncertainty combined with relief.
Trizha: "Do i really… deserve forgiveness that badly…? Even after I treated everything so badly?"
Nomoro: "That's right. And I get it."
Nomoro then started to approach Trizha, his eyes never leaving her now miserable body that was burdened way too much for too long.
Nomoro: "All this time, this entire time... you've been burdened by your past actions, your decisions, all recklessly because you thought you had no choice."
She lifted her head, a face full of vulnerability and regret. She recalls everything she's done, how people slowly left her. How the petals decided to leave a withering flower. She looked up to the person in front of her, the man who sought to forgive her mistakes, watching as he stopped in front of her and slowly knelt down.
Nomoro: "And because of that, you started making decisions you don't feel comfortable with, leading to hurting everyone around you. Realizing that, you decided to push them away and pretend that they already left you without ever seeking to be forgiven… which also led you to leave yourself out… But, that's fine. Because…"
And so, he extended his arm, spread his fingers, slowly but surely, towards Trizha. She stared back at him, eyes to his hands, and then to him. Her tears had already stopped overflowing, the unshed had already shed, and everything heavy… slowly became lighter the moment she took his hand.
"...if you can forgive yourself for that, then I'm sure everyone else can do the same…"
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"...Starting with me."
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She found out. A fourth realization. That the last petal never left her… in fact, she never realized it was there in the first place. It stayed until she noticed it. It was here all along, standing in front of her. It was a petal that she often tried to force to leave her… so that she won't have to hurt it again. This petal is… This person.
"This conflict started with us, and now let's end it. By moving to new ROUTES."
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Everything is dark. Absolutely nothing can be seen in this room. It's like a void of nothingness, one in which surrounds the entirety of the universe, a void that once had… Everything before the Symbol of Creation himself did the same.
Suddenly, the door of the room creaks open, lightening up all inside-furniture of the room and keeping half of its shadow into oblivion. Two humanoid figures entered the room, a male and female, as the female grabbed the switch with her finger and turned on the lights and visibly revealed these figures… one is a random young girl, and another is Zackier Morkator.
As they enter, the young girl stretches herself with her arms in the air, groaning in relief while Zackier slowly locks the door and walks behind the young girl.
Young girl: "Ahh… finally back in the dorms! The rain outside sure is strong, right Zacky?"
Zackier: "Yeah. They say the rain brings cold, but it never happened to me."
Young Girl: "Because you're extremely healthy, like you said? Haha, I find that hard to believe but you really proved it! And jokes aside…"
The young girl's expression softens as she walks over the living room's table and grabs a small box that was sitting on top of it, holding it with a soft smile on her face as she hugged it tightly with all her heart.
Young Girl: "...I'm really grateful you purchased this beautiful dress for me, Zacky. I was really nervous because I forgot my own back at home. Can't believe that Prom night starts tomorrow… Gosh! I'm so nervous!"
She spins and swirled lovely as she turned to Zackier with a grateful expression, giving him a bright smile while he stared back at her. She was very grateful, grateful that he is her partner. But one thing in mind… he had already removed his custom eye contacts.
Young Girl: "But with this dress you brought me, I am more than confident to–"
Zackier: "Grab me a drink."
Young Girl: "...What?"
Zackier: "I said grab me a drink. I've been out there for minutes or hours so to say. Don't expect me to stay hydrated after patiently waiting for someone like you."
The young girl's expression disappears at Zackier's sudden cold response, not to mention cutting her off from her emotional exchange of thanksgiving. Shrugging her off was not something she expected out of him, but… she then just laughed it off.
Young Girl: "Haha, very funny of you Zacky! Yeah, yeah. I know. You've been waiting for me out there, and yes I've seen your messages; you were very desperate!"
She then turned around and started walking towards the kitchen to grab some glass of water while continuing to speak.
Young Girl: "So I guess it makes sense that you'd be complaining. But, you didn't have to go–"
All of a sudden, she fell face first into the ground. She thinks that she tripped into something, as she lifted herself off the ground, laughing.
Young Girl: "...g-go that far. I fell… wait, why does it hurt down there…"
She groaned in pain as she turned her head to see what was behind her, and to her surprise… her legs are still standing off the ground, while the rest of her are still on the ground. She was sliced off by her legs.
Young Girl: "What… wh-What the…"
Her eyes went wide, her irises shrunk to tiny balls, her jaw fell as she bore witness to her cut-off legs start to bleed constantly too much. And then… she lifted her head while shaking, slowly and slowly… her eyes gaze up, and noticed Zackier standing menacingly behind her with a bloody knife in her right hand. What makes this all the more utterly terrifying sight? He was grinning and smiling widely in the most sinister way, and his red eyes… eyes that means "Freedom over the usual Benevolence"... stared down on her like a feast to meal. And at that moment, she knew that she was going to die.
Young Girl: "NO, NO! HELP!! SOMEONE HELP!!! S-SOMEONE SAVE ME!!"
She screamed and cried in pain as she turned back to her front view and started crawling for her life using her already weak arms due To constant blood loss. She tried to escape, until Zackier grabbed her hair and pulled her closer while his glowing red eyes never left her already half-dead body.
Zackier: "You can always expect anyone to suddenly barge into the room and save you. But let's not forget that this is a special hotel made by Yuri Calypso, the naive founder… She made these dorms sound proof just for the sake of everyone's privacy. A kind decision with countless disadvantages…"
Hearing that, the young girl realized the fate of her situation. She looked up and stared at the only picture in the dorm — a picture containing her with her two other best friends — before getting brutally stabbed several times continuously in her back by Zackier himself.
It took a minute before Zackier finally finished ending the life of a young woman, as he stood firm, his hands covered in blood, and a terrifying smile that never leaves its place…
"By now… The Destined, a female Prophecy Being known as the symbol of Connection herself, also known as… Trizha Frantzes, should be mentally broken by this very moment, seeking to be killed…"
Zackier walks over the picture that his victim last saw, grabbing it, staring at it briefly before crushing it with his hands… even the glass shards couldn't slice parts of his hands.
"...If she does so, I will take that for granted. And "You" will be reading or watching all this, unable to do anything but… bare witness.
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"Now tell me… How's life… Without my interference?"