Project: Death for Classroom Zero

Chapter 57: Half Real, Half Not

Tristan stared at the blankness of a white wall. Having terrified with the random thoughts that keeps on popping on his mind, his eyes became worn. Dark circles formed around it. The anxious thoughts kept on repeating on him, as if there were low, demon-toned voices that keeps on whispering near his ears. Tristan doesn’t want to hear those voice, he never wanted to. But with the reality that has just hit him just earlier, he could not help himself but to feel anxious. He could not help himself but to think about Caspian and the things he was suffering right now; about his whereabouts; about where he was being hidden right now. What is worse was the fact that perhaps … he was now nowhere to be found—he was … gone.

There were a lot of ‘what ifs’ that kept on popping on his head. It was utterly vexatious. The silence has even added to the anxious thoughts glaring at him.

He was inside a detention room. Earlier, he felt gravely furious to the people wearing with white suit. Having no idea who to blame about the missing of their friend, he chose to get mad at people which maybe had nothing to do with the disappearance of Caspian. But no, they knew something, and they chose not to tell it towards him. He was insulted by that and at the same time, felt frightened.

“Where are you, Caspian?” Tristan asked, muttering his question under his breath. “I must help you from whatever suffering you have right now.” However, even though he would tell that promise to himself, over and over again, the reality that no one knew where he was does not fail to show on his front.

Frustrated, he sigh. He laid his back on the only chair found in the claustrophobic detention room, and with the tiredness from what has happened today, he closed his eyes. He was too tired that in just a second, he did not notice that he fell asleep.

****

Tristan was awakened by an unusual yet familiar noise. Realizing that he fell asleep, he squinted his eyes to adjust from the light hitting on his face.

While doing so, the noise recurred once again. This time however, it was more vivid on his ears.

“Psst. Psst.”

Frantically, he looked at the surrounding. Despite him still being sleepy, it has all disappeared when he heard it. The calling noise was familiar, and he could never go wrong that it came from the one who was helping him everytime he was on a dire, near-death situation.

“See You,” he said, calling on the noise that has erupted from the still silence.

“Psst. Psst.”

“Where are you?”

It called once again, and then found the noise coming up from the blank wall.

“Hello Tristan.”

Tristan jumped out from surprise when a sudden voice appeared from the wall. He stepped back, and with a frantic, frightened gazes, he stared at the wall.

“See You? Is that you?” he asked, still frightened from the voice that out of nowhere came.

The voice chuckled. “Why are you surprised?” it asked. The way how the voice sounds is uncertain for Tristan. It was vogue and sounding like it was a voice made from a holographical computer-generated voice. But it seemed like it was a voice of a sweet woman.

“I … I never expect that you will be talking to me.”

The voice laughed once again. “But have been communicating to you since the day you came here, right?”

“Yeah, and thank you for that. You’ve been helping me bigtime, and I owe a lot to you.”

“Hey, don’t mention it,” she said, as if they were already a long-time friend. “The moment tyou came here, I know that I must help you get out,” she added.

Tristan became confused with that. “Why?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Why help me? Did I do something particular, making me deserving of your help?”

Now the voice did not answer. For a minute, they shared silence—Tristan waiting for her answe, and she, probably, trying to think appropriate answer to his question.

“You haven’t,” she answered.

Tristan asked, “huh?”, confused.

“Your question. If you have helped me already, making me to help you back. You haven’t helped me yet. But … I know, and feel, and hope … that you will. Someday.”

Tristan noticed something from her voice: sadness.

“But what can I help you with? In what way?”

“Someday, you will know,” she answered.

“But why are you helping me now?”

“Someday, you will know it too.”

“Hey,” Tristan said. “That is unfair. You’re not telling me something.”

Again, the feminine, computer-like laugh has erupted from the wall. “Well, I just simply believe that you are not ready to know the truth yet.”

“We’re not on a fantasy world, See You,” Tristan said.

“But isn’t this thing, this place, these happenings … not a fantasy to you yet? A nightmarish fantasy that you wish you are not part of?”

Tristan was backed off from what the voice told. “I …” he thought of something to reply, yet, for a minute, he could not reply. Because … what she has just said was true: this is a nightmarish fantasy world that no one, except them, would believe that is true.

“One last question,” the voice has said again.

“Huh?” Tristan asked. Again, he was confused.

“I give you one last question, Tristan. I’ll answer it, then I will tell you what is the reason why I am here, talking to you.”

“Are you real?” Tristan quickly asked. He did not think twice asking it, because while they were talking, that sensitive question has been popping on his head: whether if she was real or not. Because, somehow, he believes that she is not.

“I am half real, half not.”

The voice’s answer, however, has made Tristan more confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Ennngk, you ran out of chances to question me,” she said.

“Hey, wait, I still have a lot to—”

“Now for the reason why I am here …” she said. “I need to tell you this because they are now coming.”

“Who?”

“When they come, act as if you have sobered up. Act as if you have now reflected on your wrong doings even though you did nothing wrong. Promise me you would do that.”

“But … why?”

“Gosh, Tristan, you have a lot of questions. Just do it. Because if you do not … they will take that opportunity to dispose you,” she said, “they will kill you.”