TBBM XXVII. The One Who Was Made To Walk The Highway

"It's not like that," I cut Nina mid-sentence. "He said I'm his slave for the sem."

"Slave!?" she cried in disbelief. She was a chatterbox. "That nasty boy."

Nina was a good company. She helped me load everything in the car. She told me about Red's past---certainly, the past I wasn't fully in the know of. Ultimately, she confronted me about my 'feelings' for Red. I hadn't really thought about that---I meant, I had James so, why would I?

Nina left me briefly after getting a call from Seb. She said she'd be quick and that I shouldn't join her as Red heavily forbade my presence.

It sucked to be the 'unwanted' one. I could say that unconsciously, I started to like Red's attention on me; yeah, he had the tendency to be ingeniously and excruciatingly annoying but I couldn't fully take my mind away from thoughts of him. Where was he? Was he okay?

Dear Saint,

Please keep him safe. Heal his heart, too.

I took my daily dose of anti-androgens as I sat there alone and waited. Alone, with no phone or wallet, I kept myself occupied by looking around.

In flashbacks, I reckoned the first day I got in here. It was raining---storming even. I remembered sharing the same roof with him. He was top naked---I saw him---he was so confident with his body. I liked that about him, I guessed. He strapped me tight under the seatbelt. I wanted to take revenge on him but he showed me he could also be nice... that day. He was. He was very nice.

I went too deep in my memory that I started to hear raindrops and his voice, as if he was there with me... as if his attention was on me. It felt nice. I felt safe. That was the perfect moment for one to fall asleep.

And so, I did.

+++

The thing about female hormones is that they could cause a wide variety of changes in one's body. And, those changes that we fancied were the targeted effects, like changes in the shape of the body, formation of breasts, decreased lateral hair growth, among others. But, there were non-targeted effects, the side effects, in short. It varied from person to person. As for me, hey were bloating, perhaps shallow tears... and another, falling asleep even faster than I usually did.

The world was at peace until I awoke to somebody hitting on the brakes. I was unglamorously lying on the floor of the car, with some of the paperbags covering me.

I heard Red. I also heard a female voice.

"Red," the female voice called. "Which part of 'I love Mike and not you' do you not understand? I've been trying so hard to avoid hurting you. But you always pushed me to the corner.

"I'm just asking you to bloody reconsider," Red rammed his palms on the steering wheel. "You don't have to get married that fast, do you?"

"You had better find another, Red," she covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry."

"Stephie---"

"Ouch!" I sat up. I didn't know which hurt the more: the items that fell on me or the rejection I just witnessed first hand.

"Oh crap! Hickey!" Red almost jumped, seeing me arise from the clutter. "What are you doing? Eavesdropping?"

"Really? Eavesdropping? I literally just woke up," I reasoned. But I realised we weren't alone, so I dropped my tone. "You took so long. I waited for you."

"I didn't ask you to wait for me."

I was floored by what I just heard. His eyes were dead set with anger. The pangs of that hatred pierced through my bones, like some inevitable visitors.

"I honestly..." I stuttered. "You should've really just brought me back to school earlier."

"Me? Since when was I obliged to drive for you? Answer me!" his voice was ridiculously loud, cold, uncaring.

The images of his smiles earlier, his warmth, his words, they slowly dissipated in limbo. It was heartbreaking.

I lost words to say.

"Look, Red," the girl names Stephie interrupted him. "This is exactly why I couldn't like you. Because you're like that. I had better leave now!"

She poised to leave but Red locked the door every time she tried to open it. He pulled her back.

"Stephanie," he insisted, almost begging. "Enon took your car. It's late at night. Stay! I'll drive you home."

She cried in despair. The night was pitch black despite the stores that occupied the side of the road.

"Hicks," he called on to me, calmer but authoritarian. "I'm sorry. You must leave."

"M-me?" I pointed at myself, unsure.

"Hurry. I don't want you to see this," he ordered, all but casually. He handed over a paper bill. "Take this, then leave."

When he said that, it felt like something inside me fell and died. I couldn't tell what that was but a hole... it felt like a hole gaped open in my heart in memory of that part that just died.

Lately, I started to feel safe around Red. I started to grow faith in his words when he said to trust him and that he'd protect me. I used to feel safe around him... until now. I just stopped feeling.

I had absolutely no clue how I'd go home walking this late in the night. But I had nothing left in me other than a little bit of pride. So, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I pushed the door open, clutched my bag to my chest and left him with the paper bill on his hand, without looking back.

I couldn't bring myself to walk fast while my heart tore here and there. I could only be grateful for it was late in the night and I had the darkness to cover my silent tears.

I had no money. I had no phone with me. The best I could do is walk. I figured, if I walked undistracted, I should be home before 11PM.

Rejection. There was something about rejection I'd grown accustomed with: the scathing stares, the cruel actions and the imminent threat of being taken down right when you least expected it.

I couldn't stop my heart from aching; as if blood oozed and dripped from an invisible and irreparable tear---that no matter how hard I clutched between my hands, would not let up and heal. I couldn't stop crying.

Just then, it rained.

The curse of my birthmark extended until moments like these---when I was severely torn and rendered helpless.

I sat on the side of the highway, instead of running to take shelter from the rain and cried. I wept like a child until the pain subsided. But you know what the thing about pain was? Pain was there to justify one's crying. In my mind, these were justified and so they kept coming.

I cried and cried, drenched in the 9:30PM rain, reminiscent of my father's rejection of me when I was eleven; reminiscent of me running away from home.

Take this, then leave.

Don't be mad at me anymore.

When a guy---when I insult you---I don't mean it.

Don't cry because of me.

They said good memories were therapeutic. But why didn't they work the same for me?

"No," I encouraged myself. "You are Jopet two-point-zero. You shouldn't be crying like this."

Take this, then leave.

Don't be mad at me anymore.

When a guy---when I insult you---I don't mean it.

Don't cry because of me.

His words echoed through my bones and crept to the crevices of my heart.

Dear Saint,

Does the Lord do this to show me that He hates me? This pain, it felt too heavy to carry. The moon shone faintly amid the intermittent cast of clouds, watching me from above; as if silent witnesses to my suffering.

I couldn't even begin to comprehend the terrors that awaited me in the dark of the road. But I had to keep moving.