Red Complex

Chapter 9

Heart entered the wrong class. She was sure of it. However, the discussion had been running for about forty-five minutes so she pretended as if she hadn't realized it. She failed to notice the most obvious indications upon entering—room interior, the general ambiance—too wrapped up with the occurrences last week. The attendees were much older and lesser than half the usual population of her class. They must have realized it too because they kept looking at her as if she was some sort of social pariah. A very lost one.

While the topic of discussion was completely unrelated to her program, Heart tried to remain attentive. Desperately. It was a discussion about underrated local mythology, featuring the hundred islands in the northern region and the many stories passed down to generations.

On a normal day, she would've been happy having entered the wrong class, to listen to the professor ramble on fondly. But her mind had been too preoccupied, leaving little to no space for the warriors who died in the ocean and became the hundred islands today.

The weekend had been the same. A series of questions and thoughts that kept her up at night. Calling out to her like a siren song. Or a strong smell of breakfast but off-putting (if such was possible.) Elise never failed to get her out of her room with it.

It weighed heavy in her mind. A boulder on her chest. And one of which was Esmé.

Heart took her best friend home that afternoon. She drove over the speed limit, thanking the gods for helping her escape authority. Esmé winced and moaned at every turn, loud and visibly in pain. Whatever was happening, if it had anything to do with Prem or Mr. Cortes, it was much bigger—much more painful—than she could ever imagine.

She pulled over once, cursing the remaining distance to their destination then hurried towards Esmé. Simply talking to her proved to ease the throbbing in her head. Heart's voice was a birdsong, like that of the great mythical bird. But once the drive resumed, the pain would prick again, striking deeper; hitting the right depths where memories most ancient lay dormant.

Esmé hadn't let go of her when they arrived, like a child to her mother. Urging her to stay the night, to take care of her. Heart was reminded of the days when Esmé called her during the most ungodly hours of the weekend, groaning about having a hangover. Both of them splayed out in her queen-sized bed, reveling in the soothing feel of satin on their skins; chugging down drinks, munching chips.

That was the last time they'd shared a day close to each other. The past days had been a testimony.

Esmé Gonzales was friendly and assertive. The life of the party; likely a socialite in her past life. Expressive and free-spirited. It showed in her clothing, her speech, and body language. Her friends truly loved being with her. She attracted several romantic pursuers too. She's often cold and heartless towards them, but they kept coming, like moths to a flame—lured by her fiery multitudes. And she was someone Heart would hate to lose in this lifetime.

What transpired that day somehow changed all of that.

Overnight, the headaches dissipated and Esmé was fine. Heart was almost certain there was nothing to worry about—everyone gets headaches after all. But the morning after failed to shed light on both of them.

"I don't feel so good Heart. I feel like...like something is changing in me."

Esmé could be a bit of a drama queen, all in good fun. This time Heart couldn't laugh it off. It was more than a complaint from a previously sick person. It was a cry for help.

The mythology class ended with the ringing of the bell. Heart moved out of her seat, her mind bracing too many thoughts she couldn't focus where she was going. On her way out, she accidentally bumped into some students. One girl shot her a glare, some guy cursed her inattentiveness.