Mirage (ON HOLD for revision)

Chapter 3: Rage

The ritual wasn’t working and he could feel emotions overwhelming him against the doctrine he began to live by after meeting Matt. The silence and indifference he built brick by brick was crumbling dangerously right before him.

Cedric stood by the door and stared at what became of his father, looking for even a glimmer of the monster he used to be. It made Cedric wonder what it must feel like, withering day by day while the child his father called demon keeps growing, sucking the life out him.

“Shouldn’t you be a little more careful of what you say?” Cedric heard himself ask, his voice sounding as if it came from someone else, someone far away.

“What did you say?!”

“I said, shouldn’t you shut the fuck up before I lose anymore of my patience?”

It was so easy, so tempting to drag the old man who couldn’t even stand on his feet anymore to the bathroom and let him drown in the tub. It would be dismissed as a mere tragic accident no one would mourn.

The decision that has been made years ago resurfaced, making him realize that the requirements have been fulfilled for the past two and a half years. He is already strong enough in the face of his wrinkled old man, and he can already stand on his own without needing what meager sum his father could spare between cards and alcohol. As for Princess Shirley, Cedric thought dispassionately, she can just keep whoring herself out for pretty clothes and food.

Cedric could still remember the nights he lay awake thinking of all the ways he could kill his father once he grows up. It came as a shock to him how he could possibly forget that promise, how he could go from the little demon who vowed death to himself or his tormentor, from being one who cared for nothing and agonized for the end to being a person who could remember things so unimportant.

“That guy is weird. Stay away from him.”

“Who? Matt? Why?”

“He said he was sick so he couldn’t come yesterday. But I saw him standing outside the gate, soaking wet from the rain.”

“Maybe he got all scared and came running home to hide behind his mother’s skirt.”

“I came to grade school with him. He’s stupid.”

“Yeah? How’d he make it to high school then?”

“His family is loaded, dumb ass. How else?”

“I heard he’s nuts. Isn’t he always collecting 7s on his tests? How creepy. I feel terrible for his mother.”

“Right, she should’ve just had him aborted.”

Despite how loud they were whispering assumptions about his absence, laughing as if they were listening to the best gag show ever, Matt sat in quiet disinterest, redefining untouchables. No matter how much he was ridiculed, he kept his head held high, summoning silence with a steady glare no one could counter face to face. His silence and indifference eventually won over, and two weeks later he ceased to exist to the class unless his participation was absolutely necessary.

Muddled by the sudden onslaught of memories, Cedric didn’t even realize when he grabbed his father and dragged him to the bath despite the wretched man’s protests. He locked the door behind him and let his old man’s sorry excuse of flesh and bones fall into the tub with a loud splash. Shirley came running down the stairs and started banging on the door.

“Open up, you bastard! What are you doing in there?!” Shirley screamed. Even with the door between them, Cedric could picture his sister dialing only god knows whose number for help.

In those two weeks surrounded by a bunch of hostile faces they’ve never seen before, albeit unacknowledged until that incident with his homework, Matt became Cedric’s god. Cedric was an amused spectator watching what he thought would be a lynching and he was proven wrong. Even as he hung out with his seniors, wearing the gait of a delinquent, each time he passes by that window he would see— he would seek Matt, wondering how such a frail and cowardly boy could endure the incessant, blatant mockery directed at him. Until the day Matt robbed Cedric of his breaking his father’s ultimatum, Cedric could only find Matt’s silent endurance disgusting, a near perfect reflection of himself.

“Dad? Dad, can you hear me?!” Shirley asked desperately, realizing that pleading with his demon brother would bring no good.

Someone, Cedric thought as he watched the old man clinging to the edge of the tub for dear life, someone broke his god.

When did he start wearing those ridiculous jackets, Cedric asked himself, closing his eyes as if it would help remember. Since when has he looked at his god as his savior not knowing his god was dead?

“Say please,” Cedric said, almost in a whisper, watching the horrified look on his father’s face half submerged, desperately gasping for air laced with water.

“Please…”

Cedric dragged him out of the tub and sat him on the bowl, then finally opened the door. Before Shirley could say anything, he threw the towel at her face.

“Now why don’t you wipe down our dear father and put him to bed, little sister? Class starts early tomorrow, I have to sleep early after all,” Cedric said, smiling murderously at Shirley. He proceeded upstairs without waiting for a response.

“Once a bastard, always a bastard,” Shirley muttered in defiant fear.