Enigma - Chapter 2.2
Chapter 2.2: Erika
“What is this?!” Screamed my mother, while my father just gasped. “What kind of child are you, committing atrocities like this?”
I looked directly at my mother with a defiant look, sure that she would beat me up again as usual.
But my mother only met my gaze with a look that I now knew was a look of fear. “You really are horrifying! A child like you should be locked up forever!”
It was the first time I was locked up in the devil-toilet.
The devil-toilet was a toilet located at the back end of our house. The toilet was supposed to be used by the housekeeper, but our family was not very rich and didn’t need a housekeeper. So the toilet was just neglected — dirty because it hadn’t been cleaned for a long time, dark because the broken lights had never been replaced, stuffy because there was no exhaust fan. Not to mention that there were lots of cockroaches roaming around inside.
That was where I was locked up all night. That time it was my turn to cry and scream, but no one listened to me because of the thick walls of the toilet and its location which was too far from the main rooms of our house. By the time the door finally opened, my eyes were swollen to the size of an egg and I was completely exhausted. For three days I just hid in the room and didn’t want to go out.
“So that’s the secret,” I heard my mother say to my father, “She really has to be locked up in order to change.”
Since then, of the many people in this world, I was most afraid of my parents — or more accurately, my mother — because she was the only person in the world who knew my weaknesses and didn’t hesitate to use them to punish me.
As we grew older, Eliza’s image, the beautiful and pleasant angel, became more and more attached to her to the extent that I could smell her fear that she would lose that image. She refused to have fun, from refusing to eat voraciously — which obviously, that was not very graceful! —to refusing to watch movies with friends —because she had to help her parents at home and had to save his pocket money to help our parents pay school fees. Yeah, many people admired her and praised her as an exemplary child, but I often wondered, was the sacrifice she made to maintain that reputation worth the fun she lost out on?
Even worse, I began to notice Eliza’s modus operandi to maintain her image. She didn’t hesitate to use other kids, revealed the secrets of her friends, even accused someone of evil deeds — everything was done so subtly that no one even realized it. Apart from me, of course, and it wasn’t because of my intelligence, but because of our inner connection that I thought didn’t exist.
Meanwhile, I was, of course, growing in the opposite direction. Yep, you know, becoming the Omen who was said to be similar to me. Like I said, the milk had been spoilt, why bother being a good kid if I was already considered bad? Besides, I enjoyed being a bad kid. I could prank whomever I wanted and did whatever I wanted to. The point was, I was a free human — unlike Eliza who was voluntarily confined in the prison made up of rule.
However, I secretly felt something growing in my heart. Something dark and evil, which prompted me to do much more around this time. Stealing classmates’ wallets and cell phones who were always careless in putting their personal belongings, beating the kid who annoyed me until they were covered in blood, and the strongest urge I felt: to kill Eliza. Yes, I had hoped many times, if only Eliza were not in this world, no one else would compare me to her. I would have it all alone. My parents, friends, also Ferly. My life would be much more fun.
I constantly fought that darkness. I didn’t want to be a thief, a bully, let alone a murderer. What’s more, I didn’t really want to become an Omen as everyone predicted. I didn’t want to give that satisfaction to all of them. I would show them that even though I was bad and naughty, I was still a lot better than all of them.
I hope I will never give up to that darkness.