Mirage (ON HOLD for revision)

Chapter 5: Art

It’s because of her mother. I knew there was something wrong with that woman when I saw her.

If only Robert had listened when you warned him.

Men are fools. Nothing feeds their ego more than rescuing a damsel in distress.

It was conceited of him to think he could save her.

And now this,  already showing signs of inheriting her mother’s abnormality.

It really is pitiful.

 “Vinuya,” the professor called out, barely registering in Matt’s ears.

Freaks like her mother should not even think of bearing children, much less have them.

And the boy doesn’t look much different, stuck in his room day in and out. I’ve never seen him talk to any of the neighbors’ kids.

To think we have to take in such troublesome children, family ties are really over rated.

If they’re going to end up killing themselves in the future, they should just skip the motions and get it over with.

Isn’t that a bit too harsh?

And yet, the room reverberated with muffled laughter.

“Vizcarra,” the professor called out.

Even their own father has run away from them, how dare he expect us to take them in?

“Vizcarra?”

“Matt?” Cedric whispered inconspicuously, nudging Matt back to reality, “Matt, it’s your turn.”

What do you think, Matt? Should we grant their wish? If we do that, they would be really happy right?

In reality, Matt knew Cedric was calling his name. He could even faintly hear the chatter around the room as the other students looked around. However, everything felt so distant as if he was submerged in murky water the surface of which echoed with ripples, growing bigger and bigger before disappearing as it crashes against the embankment.

It’s your turn, Matt.

“Hey, Matt,” Cedric whispered again, grabbing Matt by the elbow, “Matt, it’s your turn.”

Matt, it’s your turn.

With a loud clatter, his chair almost fell backwards as he stood, attracting everyone’s attention. His initial intention was to run away. But getting on his feet so abruptly made the blood drain from his head. Strangely enough, it cleared his head.

“Are you Vizcarra?” the professor asked with growing impatience.

“Yes. Sorry, I dozed off,” Matt replied, hesitating before he actually descended the steps and handed in his registration card.

“If you have no interest in this class then there’s no need for you to bother attending. It’s fine if you want to waste your time, but don’t waste mine,” the professor replied as he signed Matt’s card and returned it to him.

The professor’s hands stopped midway, and only then did Matt realize the professor was staring at him. He took it to mean the professor was waiting for a response.

“I will not waste your time,” Matt replied with more indignation than he intended and took the initiative to reach out and retrieve his card.

The walk back was completed with feet laden with curious stares and intrusive whispers that could be done more inconspicuously out of delicacy if not respect.