Indigenous

SHAY

"Shay." A woman's voice was calling out to her. It was a sweet voice, one that could lull you to sleep. But this woman didn't seem to soothe her to sleep.

"Shay, baby." Her once sweet voice was now laced with urgency.

Hands.

She felt soft, warm hands gently caressing her face. This woman was trying to wake her up.

However, she can't seem to move. Her eyes would flutter open, but she can barely keep them that way. She felt so drained. Her energy was completely depleted; it was as if she was frozen. Her hands felt like cement. She couldn't feel her legs.

Why can't she feel them?

Why can't she move?

Why can't she wake up?

"Mo-mommy." She whimpered.

"Kristof!" she heard her mother call out frantically.

Kristof. That was her father's name: Kristof Reynolds, a prosecutor.

She had often wondered what that word meant. Her father told her that his job was to make sure that bad people were punished for the wrongs they had done.

Charlotte, her mother, was a heart surgeon. She makes people who have heart problems become better.

Amidst her escalating fear of not knowing what was going on, she found comfort thinking about her parents, who loved and cared for her deeply.

She felt grateful that they have jobs that could save and make people happy. It brought her warmth despite the coldness that seeped through her skin.

She was starting to feel groggy. She might not be able to keep her eyes open for long.

In a blur of movements, she felt being lifted off from her bed.

Straining to lift her head, she looked up, seeing her father's determined face.

She felt the cool breeze against her skin as her father rushed to get her inside the waiting car, which was now parked by their driveway, passing her off on her mother's lap.

Her mother wrapped her securely against her chest, kissing the top of her head.

"You're going to be okay." Her mother whispered in her ears as the car revved to life.

She could feel her mother's thundering heartbeat. She was scared.

Slowly, Shay opened her eyes and watched the city zoom past the car's window, a tangle of line silhouettes from passing cars and electric poles dancing in her blurring vision.

She hardly felt the car skidding to a halt when her mother opened the car door a few minutes later.

There was a blur of movements once again as they transported her to a moving bed, the shadow of fluorescent lights zooming overhead. Several people wearing something white were now walking alongside her parents, pushing the carrier that she was in.

Then her mother's face abruptly hovered above her, blocking the vision of dancing lights.

Her face was etched with worry and fear. It made her feel sad.

"Hold on, Shay. No matter what happens, keep holding on, okay?" She remembered hearing her say before losing consciousness.

'How long should I keep on holding on? How long should I hope to get better?'

She silently mused now, waking up from another memory dream, the constant heavy and emotional strain that came with it gnawing at her.

It has been twenty years since they had died, yet glimpses of them continuously visit her through these dreams.

It has been twenty years since she decided to come with Marcus Zephanie.

It has been twenty years of pining for her long-lost mother.

It has been twenty years of silent torture.

It has been twenty years. It has been too long, and she was still dying.

However, the idea of death doesn't scare her anymore.

Death comes to every single human being. It is an unstoppable phenomenon. Unplanned, unyielding, inexorable.

Once death knocks on your door, there was no escaping it. There was only acceptance, forbearance, and embracing the unknown.

In those twenty long years, Shay Zephanie has considered death as a friend. She had come to live with that fact.

Yet, she was still hopeful that Marcus Zephanie would indeed find the cure. But she can't stand living with the man who promised to make her better any longer.

Five years ago, she left the prison of his laboratory.

Five years ago, she devised a plan.

It took her fifteen years to finally stand up against Marcus Zephanie.

Yet, this wasn't rebellion; it was merely a way to get vengeance and bring justice.

Shay Zephanie got herself out of bed and sat staring at her reflection from the full-length mirror standing across from her.

A faint smile crossed her lips.

"We look so much alike, Ava." She murmured.

Ava. It has also been 20 years since they had last seen each other.

"I have to admit. I kind of missed you. Though, I don't think you would share the same sentiment." She mused.

Twenty years ago, she met this girl with whom she shared a strong resemblance with. They had the same golden brown eye color. They both have caramel blonde hair and have the same length. Their similarities were so astounding, one could say that they were identical twins. Yet, that wasn't the case.

Nevertheless, just like any twins, they didn't have the same personality.

Ava has a distinct character and identity. And so did Shay.

Though, even now, she was certain that they still share the same physique.

"And gratefully, we also share the same resentment against Marcus Zephanie." Shay, once again, murmured.

Marcus Zephanie, the one hailed hero, still held the hope of making her better. She was still clinging to his promise of finding the cure.

Despite her acceptance of her fate, she was hopeful that one day she would be able to breathe and live in bliss, knowing that she wasn't dying any time soon.

And she was grateful to Marcus Zephanie for giving her this thin thread of hope.

She was grateful, but that didn't mean that she would keep watching and sit idly by while he continued to fool every one of his heroism.

He wasn't a hero.

He hardly deserved that title.

In Shay Zephanie's eyes, he was more of a villain, an evil genius.

Marcus Zephanie was not a knight in shining armor. He was a killer.

And his crimes will not go unpunished.