Ancient Four - Initiation

Chapter 4 - Willing Hearts Orphanage

Earth, Singapore,

Kai Burner

Day thirty now. Awoken and in a dreary slumber, I force myself to get up, not because I want to, I have to.

This room, like many others in the building, are hosts to the numerous prepubescents who are in the same plight as me. Our decrepit bed frames weighted with old mattresses are spaced evenly along two metres apart from one another. There are in total six beds per room. Mine nestles beside the windowpane, and as I glance through the window, I see the horizons of the once night sky shimmering rubescently from the bottom, a sign of dawn approaching. I momentarily marvel at the beauty before me, the sight providing a short respite from my harsh realities of life.

But reality kicks in almost instantly, and I turn back to look at the cracked and rusty wall of the room that could do with a fresh lick of paint. A faded old mural on the wall with the words 'It gets better' battles to get noticed amidst the thin crevices that now fester it. The mural was intended to make us feel better, but somehow, now, it produced the opposite effect. Wreaths of holly and garland festooned with colourful ornaments fill the ceiling. Decorations from Christmas, though it is now the first of January. 

This place is sort of like a bootcamp. As long as we're under the care of the organisation, there are rules to adhere to. I now belong to no one but the country.

I once belonged to a loving family, or what I thought was a loving family. We were broken, but I guess if you grew up in a broken family, how could you tell the difference? You make do with what you have. You don't get to choose your family.

It's not like in intimate relationships, where when the wrong person is chosen, their fully grown devil's horns are often tucked and kept inwards, surreptitiously, better to hide their agendas and motives. But eventually, like an untreated appendicitis that ends up bursting uncontrollably, the display of their ugliest colours becomes not only conspicuous but also causes their partner to contemplate and reflect on their initial choices of commitment, by which time it is already too late; A tether of attachment has been formed. Feelings of love exist. For the sake of the relationship, a thing called love and irreversible wasted time, ample chances are given, and that makes the relationship harder to get out of. If there is pre-existing abuse in the relationship, it is much harder. A vicious cycle then ensues.

But in some situations, the most pragmatic will still manage to untether and unspool themselves out of the encumbering tangle, successfully getting out of the toxic relationship. I wish Mom was here, she would have agreed with me wholeheartedly. Right, Mom?

When it comes to a family like mine, we were born into it. We see the constant culmination of the devilish horns on the daily, desensitised over the years by the malign that roams the household, since a time when consciousness was remotely possible. And so, to me, my family was normal.

But I never thought I would miss a life where it was just us three. Back when it was just the three of us, I did wistfully miss when we were four.

Like I said, perhaps I am just ungrateful. Maybe I need to learn to look at the brighter side of things. Positive vibes. But it seems like there aren't any. Perhaps when it comes to pessimists, there is always no positive side to things. We always find a way to make everything negative. What if I wasn't actually a pessimist, and that my life was just in the gutter? What if my life was in fact just that awful?

Before I fell asleep last night, I thought about Dad, reliving yet again the night of the incident. They say that one should sob and let go to feel better, and yet this pain has yet to dissipate. I have sobbed one too a many nights to no relief.