Blue Rabbits

Prologue

This is not my story.

The clarity of my thoughts as I write these words in my journal is in contrast to the obscurity of my feelings. Writing is my form of expression and my journal is my confidant. It also serves as a trip down memory lane. I scrupulously write every notable detail in my memory as the significance of this journal entry is worth three years of the puzzle pieces of my life.

They say, "ignorance is bliss" but "knowledge is power". I used to ruminate these contradicting aphorisms told to me as a child but there's no better explanation of what these sayings mean than the experiences that led me to the "big" day - the day of truth.

As I finish my journal entry, my phone alarms. It's 2:55PM. I have an online appointment at three o'clock. I bring my pen down, close my notebook and open my laptop.

"Hi Charm, how are you feeling today?"

Dra. Lucy Sta. Maria or Doc Lucy as I call her, is my therapist. I have been in therapy for quite a while now, and with the pandemic, our sessions are done online. The power of human connection transcends through our screens to bring a sense of familiarity and affinity amidst the languishing effect of the isolation brought by the pandemic.

"Hi Doc Lucy, I just don't know what to feel honestly. I was dead nervous prior to the 'big' day, and now that it's over, there's this inexplicable feeling of relief like a big load was taken off my chest but at the same time, there's this new feeling of anxiety, of apprehension, like what if the investigation won't go smoothly? How will it turn out? How long will the investigation last? What if our efforts will just go to waste? What if she finds out about my testimony and comes after me?"

"Okay sweetie, I need you to calm down. It's not an easy ordeal for a young girl like you. You're just, what, 18, 19? So young to be dealt with this kind of...situation. You stepping up to help your friend with this very serious matter is a very brave act. You deserve a pat on the back, honey. So brave of you."

Doc Lucy is my safe space. It's only with her that I can share these kinds of talk without feeling judged or scrutinized. I have developed this kind of attachment to her like she's my second mother. She has this sweet, reassuring voice which soothes me and opens up my ears to listen to her whenever I go haywire.

"Would you like to share with me what happened on the 'big' day?"

The "big" day was like my moment of truth. It was the day when I testified for my friend. It's like the greatest recital which I'd been preparing and rehearsing for for my whole life, and I didn't want to mess this up because my friend's future was on the line.

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The lady officer led me to a navy blue room on the right side of the hallway. As I opened the door, I saw a man in his mid or late 30's, in his plain black shirt and thick-lensed eyeglasses, busy typing on his PC as files of paper were scattered on his desk. He was so absorbed in his busyness that he did not notice me intruding in his space. I knocked two times on the open door to make known of my presence and only then he acknowledged it.

"Oh, hi, Miss. Here, take a seat," he put on his face mask as he gestured to me to sit on the left chair across his table. His office was filled with piled office boxes and shelves containing folders and documents, displaying his diligence in his line of work.

"Sorry for all the mess. It's just a very hectic week for me. Would you like a cup of coffee? Or tea?" He offered as he fixed the disarrayed papers on his desk.

"Tea would be good. I can't take caffeine."

He reached out for the thermos and teacup in the stash cabinet. As he poured water in the teacup from the thermos, he began, "I am Officer Ramirez and I'm in charge of this case. Thank you for coming today. How would you like me to address you, Miss?"

"Just call me Charm. No need for the miss, Officer," I answered.

He put the teabag in the hot water, served it to me and asked, "Okay, Charm. So tell me what you know."

I breathed in as I heard this line of questioning which I played in my head, in different words and in different tones from different voices numerous times. And before I let out my prepared narrative, I reached for the teacup and sipped in my tea.