Masked

i

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CHAPTER ONE:
The Beginning Of The End

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Brigitta's POV

I, even just for a minute, never thought that life can be authentically vicious and dark. That all the good and happy memories will be replaced by bad and morose ones. That these smiles and laughs will soon be converted into tears and sobs. I never, ever, thought of it. Why? Perhaps because I am afraid to face the wicked truth.

But no, wait, that is not the main reason why I don't ponder about it much. It is merely because I know, in the abyss of my hypothalamus, that if I deem of it, I will be drowned in the deepest pits of its halls of madness and let it consume my whole well-being; and that, that is what I am most terrified of.

Of being manipulated.

I, thus, do not focus on the pessimistic gests and tend to think, optimistically, about what might happen if I do this and that most of the time. I smile almost every minute. I give them the face they want to see. My happy face. My smiling face. My laughing face. My okay face.

Yet, little did they know that those faces aren't the real ones I own? Little did they know that the Brigitta they used to know is long gone and the Brigitta they are encountering now is the masked queen?

Unbeknownst to the people surrounding me, I, Brigitta Grenough, alone, is beautifully suffering from "Smiling Depression" over the last 4 years. Why is that? Come and see...

-flashback, 091913-

As long as I can remember, that night was stormy and rayless. 11:13 was read from the clock's hands. Wala sa bahay sina Mommy and Daddy because they're in Seattle for business.

"Brigitta! Brigitta!", I heard my nanny call as she was running to my direction with her face drawn in fear and worry. I was in the kitchen, getting a glass of water, with my sweater on and drowsy eyes.

"What is it, nanny? Why is your face like that? Is there something wrong?", said by me, a 13 year old girl, feeling a little fuzzy with a glass of water in my hand.

"Oh honey, kailangan mong magtago, someone's after your life! Run, Bria! Save your life for nanny!", are the words that slipped in her mouth before two shots of gun were heard, echoing deafeningly in that four-corner kitchen room and her, falling down slowly on the floor.

I was just there, looking shocked at my nanny's cold and bloody corpse.

However, before she got her eyes permanently close, there were six words she uttered that I will never forget.

"I love you, baby, please go", and her voice faded away as so her breathing.

And yes, ginawa ko, I ran away. I ran with my vision blurry from the tears streaming down my visage. I ran with no one by my side telling me 'it's gonna be alright'. I ran.

Away. Away from my fears, from everything.

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I guess what I let you know is enough, huh?

This.

This was the beginning of my end.