[1] ALEXA, and her hell ✓ [Editing]

One Sense Less ✓

Jessie J — Flashlight
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"a blind man who sees is better than a seeing man who is blind." —Helen Keller
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     Phillipeño Romero is at the bottom of the class. For the passed weeks his grades have been on the lower side and having his teacher continuously throw demeaning words into his sensitive ears isn't helping. Verbally abusing someone (abuse in every form), because they are unable to do something is what only filth does. One doesn't deserve to call oneself any better. If it is that one claims to be giving tough love, then know that not everyone can handle it. And Phillipeño doesn't seem to be a strong enough person.

     Not that being blind is the result of that. He just doesn't listen, stubbornly doing his own thing and getting frustrated whenever he's spoken to. The pitiful thing is probably angry at the world.

     Phillipeño Romero, sixteen years old, was guided off the streets without an ounce of resistance, into a black BMW, after being observed, roaming around before settling on a bench in a closed park. It was midnight, a week before Alexa was found. He's said to have been born visually impaired, so at this age, he has developed his senses enough to move around freely, yet people tend to think less of him anyway.

     The day he was found was the day he was abandoned. He had never complained about anything before. He also made effort not to burden his single and suffering mother, for he's capable of helping himself. He thought that with his unique abilities that he honed while growing up, he could lessen the weight of taking care of a disabled child for her. Little did he know that she would take this as confirmation that he was ready for the world.

     She took him into the busy streets of the City, holding his hand one sunny day. Noise was everywhere; cars honking, trucks and buses, people bustling about and chatting. Phillip at least managed to stuff his ears with cotton before rushing out with his mother. He thought this was just going to be another day out and swallowed his annoyance. When she let go of his hand, he stopped and waited. He was probably outside a shop or a store that she wanted to buy something from. She always did that. She never brought him inside so that he didn't get in the way of shoppers, but would leave him outside by the door.

     She always left him outside to wait for her, somewhere shaded and where he wouldn't bump into pedestrians either.

     She always did.

     She—

     'Why isn't she coming back?' Is the thought he had that afternoon.

     He stood there for hours waiting. He could feel the time getting late as it grew chilly, lesser cars drove by and lesser people walked by. He had been standing like a statue for hours when she'd normally be back in around fifteen minutes. He'd been waiting for so long, he was anxious, hungry, his feet hurt, his mind was clouded, he was thirsty and he was stuck in denial. He trusted her so much to lead the way that he didn't bother to keep in mind the route. The quiet evening was severely getting to him.

     Stiffly, Phillipeño took an unsteady step forward, removing the cotton from his ears. His knees ached, but he listened, and in the darkness behind his eyelids, he conjured up white lines as the sounds around him bounced off objects. Those lines formed shapes that allowed him to see to an extent. Step after step, he moved forward, touching the walls lightly, maneuvering his way down the street and then, he'd clap when it was too noiseless.

     He soon found an open space barred by wired fencing. Phillipeño carefully scaled the fence and took a seat in the closed park. With his blank eyes open, wet and head turned up to the sky, he wondered what thought his mother must have had. The sky that everyone described as an ocean in itself, he wished it could all fall on him and wash away the feeling of loneliness that suddenly became too real to ignore, after its years of pursuing him. Ever since day one, it's been there. Him alone in his dark mind, but he had his mother.

     Had.

     Even now in class, with people surrounding him everywhere, he's no one to be spoken to. Everybody turns a blind eye to him. He himself turns away from himself and Nobosklav's obnoxious spitting.

     Through the open doors leading to the hallway, he senses the presence of two going by in the noise; a familiar strong presence, Mr. Moskal, the head of this establishment and a smaller one, which seems more like overwhelming darkness being kept on a tight leash.

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After The Chapter
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