Playing Death |ONC 2021 Longlister

Chapter 06

**TW: racist comments**

The boy was cooed, gushed over, people ruffled his hair, commented on every shade of difference they spotted- I guessed they could only be family and relatives, not fans or anything close. They fawned over him as much as crazy fans all the while fussing and lamenting over how he shouldn't have left, how much he changed, and it seemed it was for the better because-

"...missed you so much, darling, but look at you," a plump woman with dark brown hair and skin ruffled his hair, lovingly at first and then tilted his cheek, gazing disapprovingly at him. "You grew fair but so thin, aren't you eating?"

"And why did you change your name? We let you become a pop star, but did you have to change your name?" another woman lashed out, her tone reproachful. I was mildly surprised that he changed his name, but none of these mattered to me. Not as much as what everyone was saying. I tried to go back a hundred, a thousand years to check my memory. Had these things always happened? Was I that oblivious to the world?

Was I a simply a means to an endgame, that Aphrodite and I played; was I another of her subservient toys?

I dismissed the demented thought. After all, humans were just captives to their own inner demons and I had seen enough.

"Oh my god, did you hear that she's back in town?" a bald guy with a built frame pushed forward and gripped his shoulder. "You two should talk, besides, she's young and pretty, just in time for you-"

"Why don't you tell her to do something better and perhaps you should too?" he gave a sickly sweet smile.

"Vansh!" his mother chided. "This is not the way you speak to your elders."

"Amma, I'm tired. Does all this have to happen today? Besides, I don't want to hear that name, call me Vance. We can sit down and talk tomorrow. I'm jet lagged and-"

The mother went off as someone else stepped forward possibly to bring down another attack on the boy.

"Don't forget your roots, boy. Your Indian heritage and place. No matter where you go, you must know where you come from and ultimately abide by the Indian culture," one of the old ladies curled her lip in contempt, her eyes gleaming. "And what is with this American naming? Or perhaps you don't want to be connected with us?"

The boy gripped the back of the chair, his face contorting into silent transformation. "You just said I got fairer; obviously this fairness construct is good but my name change isn't?"

"Oh yes those are the good-" the old lady was cut off by the boy's mother rushing back and forth and setting down plates and hot steaming piles of food. I could see everyone instantly relax and inhale the good scent wafting through the air.

"Oh yes, how could I forget! I made the best dishes for you, look at these paranthas, and chicken curry and yes, eat up, I don't want you looking like a stick while I'm around...by the way did you see how fat Arya grew? God help her, I wonder what she..." her voice trailed off.

He pushed her arm off, pressing on a tight lipped smile. "I am eating, mom. And what is with this obsession of-"

Someone else pushed through, arms flapping around them, as they wrapped themselves around the boy in a bone crushing hug. Vance exhaled in relief, as he embraced them back and then pulled back.

"Rameez!" he exploded into laughter. "Mom, I'll be right back!" He took a few snacks in his hands and turned around, his eminent hunger vanishing.

"Hold it right there!" she pulled him back and his face turned sour. "Your dad wants to speak with you."

"Now?" he pinched the bridge of his nose, as she whispered chidingly and led him aside.

Rameez looked torn, defeated even. "Allah help him now."

Layla looked concerned, brows raised. "Should we be involved in all of this shitstorm?"

"It doesn't look like a shitstorm," I pondered the whole situation. "Not yet anyways."

"Look, I know she tasked you with all of this..." she trailed off. "I don't want you to get too much into this."

I shrugged. "I can't feel anything, and besides, I have these."

I waved the Soul Cancellation Earphones that she bought from the black market at a cheap rate after she figured one of her allies made it; a discount was on the table in no less than a day after she made numerous phone calls. His prices were ridiculous; he wanted nothing less than a hundred live people at his disposal to watch them die gruesomely.

It was an easy feat save for the fact that Layla couldn't kill people actually; she could cause a million circumstances that would facilitate close death but not actually death unless I was there or Anubis had granted permissions. I vaguely felt a distant memory resurfacing about where I was and soon it disappeared just as I tried to grasp it. Perhaps doing another of her dirty work. It was a mystery how much I forgot in the span of time I lived, doing my job but memories with Layla were never tarnished by time.

Layla sighed, her forehead wrinkled with worry. "Sometimes-"

"Don't. It's better this way," I brushed her off. I knew what was coming and I had no desire to acknowledge it or even try to make it any better.

She snapped, continuing. "It's not fair, at least tell her to give you access to everything a normal demon has."

I felt something tighten in my chest for much more time than necessary.

"That's just it, Layla. I don't belong anywhere. And I never will." 

***

Glossary:

parathas: A type of Indian flatbread where ghee and butter is usually used. 

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