Hellbound

2. Grim Reaper?

“How long?”

The doctor didn’t need to ask Naomi twice, didn’t need to raise the tip of his voice an octave higher to emphasize his question. How long is a complete thought in itself. She knows exactly what he wants to put up the table.

She scoffed a little before answering, eyeing the white walls in the clinic while she sits feet-loose on a patient’s bed, hanging just an inch above the cold tiles. Her ankles should have been kissing the end of the manual Indoplas instead. She should be lying rather than sitting, should be facing the flat white up instead of another breathing face. But for some reason, she feels stronger this way. Upright and solid. Like nothing could weigh her down.

“Since middle school, I’ve been having the headache occasionally here and there, but it’s the first time that I felt it this intense, like my brain is splitting apart. And my nose just bled out of nowhere. It freaked me out.” There, she said it when she shouldn’t have. Ashamed of how instead of beers and wines, it was paracetamol that keeps damaging her liver at an early age, instead of underage smoking and the smell of having fun, it was the menthol of vaporubs that was circulating in her lungs, reaching the tip of her bronchi faster than her aching head.

Funny, she thought. How those petty attempts to avoid hospital at an early age were the very same ones that lead her there.

“That must be tough for you, Naomi. Say, do you have someone that could hear this one with you? I know you’re on legal age already but it would be better to discuss the treatment plan with someone a little older.” The doctor sighed, his eyes showing more pity than concern, as if he’s judging her for being alone. She hates it. She almost gritted her teeth at the thought. Why would she need someone with her to deal with a simple headache in the first place?

“Just tell me everything, I can handle it.” Naomi hid her heart behind stillness, a confident demeanor. She ignores the little voice in her head telling her that maybe this is more serious than what she takes it for. But whatever. As long as she’s not gonna die from it, she’ll be good. “So, my illness is?”

“Brain tumor. Right temporal lobe. If left untreated, you’ll only have around 2 years to live from now.”

Her world stopped spinning. Maybe after this, she’ll go to her school’s church, pray until the morning. Beg God to perform miracles on her sinful 18-year old self until her knees hurt from kneeling, her eyes blur from crying and her heart bleed from hoping.

Oh was the only word she could muster at the revelation. She now understands how the prophets felt before spreading the Word. It must have been overwhelming for them, knowing everything before it even happens. She realizes she isn’t any different from them now. f**k wishing to be alive. She needs the tongues of fire, the same ones that gave Mary and Jesus’ disciples courage to act the opposite of their nature. She needs the Holy Spirit. A white dove. Or maybe the white cloak the doctor is wearing. Anything pure to hold on to. Before her thoughts corrupt her faster than the turmor.   

“Naomi? Can you still hear me?” A gentle tap on her shoulder is what snapped her back to reality, cutting all her delusions out. She proceeds to stare blankly up to meet the doctor’s eyes, noticing a little pout from his wrinkled lips. Chapped instead of being supple. “Your tumor is rare, so far it isn’t malignant yet but it’s already 5 centimeters in size and is growing fast.” He continued speaking. preaching like the messiah announcing salvation on a platform in front of a hopeful crowd, expect she isn’t a part of the hopeful crowd. She is the platform. And right now, he is stepping on her.

“That is why I asked you earlier if there is someone who could talk about this with you…”

“The treatment cost wouldn’t be as cheap.”

“We’ll also need to track the progress…”

“Don’t worry, we can discuss about everything whenever you’re ready…”

The echoes are solid, materializing in his ear but never reaching his head. Maybe the tumor is blocking it or her lack of faith filtering it. Is this even God talking to her? Is he using the doctor as an instrument to convey His will? Is He giving her hopeless hopes to illusion her on prolonging her life? “There is still hope.”

Liar.

The healer brought out something from a brown envelope under his arm. She watches slowly, it was like a scroll unfolding, stretching, revealing ancient knowledge long lost to humanity, the one you’ll need more than eyes to open so you could understand. Because what is inside isn’t visible in plain sight. An MRI report.

“So, what do I need to do now?” She asked half-laughing, half-tearing up. It’s a reservation directed more to herself than to the man troubled. A philosophy more than a question.  She knows what she needs to do. She knows she is doomed.

--

Driiiiiiiiin. Driiiiiiiiiin.

Naomi wasn’t expecting that she will reach another day. When she rolled over her side on the discarded pillows to slam her bedside clock off, she reminded herself that she still has 2 years. 2 years. She can’t forget that.

She let herself bask from the warmth of the morning sun, her eyes half-closing and half-opening. Feeling the calm before the storm. She stares at her window a little longer, noticing how dirt appears more prominently when rays pass through. She feels a little thankful that her apartment is erected in the Orient. Maybe her parents loved the sun too, hence why they chose the place. A smile crept up her face. It has been so long since she felt this calm. She’ll deal with the storm later.

“Ngh.” Naomi carefully rustled the over the sheets before finally bolting up the bed with a yawn. As much as she wants to stay longer in bed, she fears she’ll want to stay the longest, stay forever. Besides, she’ll be late for school if she doesn’t move.

Heading to the bathroom next to the empty kitchen, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Drooling, disoriented, and raw. Nothing much changed in her routine. She took a shower, cold for her liking. She likes her pores closed, untouched, unclogged, as if they were the only ones pure she can keep against the world.

At 7 am, she was already set, her gray vest fitting perfectly over her slanted shoulders, the white long-sleeved polo underneath hugging the curve of her waist, not that there was much to begin with. Her red necktie is pleats-free from the base of her collar, down the crown of her navel. Perfect, she thought. She knows she’s always flawless in front of everyone, she needs to be flawless even in front of herself. Being like this gave her a leeway. She can pretend like yesterday didn’t exist, think that her diagnosis was only a dream. If she hadn’t only tilted her head a little to the left, she wouldn’t see the proof that yesterday wasn’t a dream. The brown envelope containing her MRI report, it was there. The invitation of death.

Riiiing. Riiiiing.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at the name of her best friend flashing on the screen. “Celestine. It’s too early for your nag. I’m on my way, okay?” Quickly, she grabbed her school bag and slips it over her left shoulder, appreciating how the headache seemed to be slumbering inside her this time. She wishes it would stay wherever it is and never to resurface again. Not even when Celestine’s angry voice is seeping through the roots of her wake. “I know, I know. Meet me in the gate at 7:15. Bye!”

Naomi took one last look in her empty apartment. A shadow-less monument more than a house. It was a witness to the door’s final click until it has turned dead silent again. Off to the school, she goes.

True to her words, she arrived in school in no time. The towering cross above the white gate greeted her before she could see a familiar face. Students wearing the same uniform come and go in opposite directions as they clamor for their next classes. Naomi wasn’t bothered. She was supposed to get annoyed at how her angry best friend should’ve been here before her, but she wasn’t.  She didn’t grit her teeth when a stranger bumped over her shoulder and uttered a half-assed sorry. For some reason, she feels drained out of life energy. She feels indifferent.

“Naomi!” And there they are. The crowd spitted a head-full of curls and a familiar bob she knew. She welcomed their smiling faces with an expressionless one. “Tiffany. Celestine.”

“What is wrong with you, girl? You look beat! Did something happen?” Tiffany, her other best friend, was the first to notice, maybe she’ll be the first to know. But not now. Naomi let her palm her forehead and cheek, searching for a non-existent heat.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t have breakfast.” She shrugged her palm away from her face.

It was Celestine’s turn to speak, “Naomi! Did you do the math assignment? Please let me copy your answer in the first item, I swear I’ll do better next time.” Naomi laughed seeing how her round and sweat-filled eyeglasses moves a little lower down the bridge of her nose when she panics. Celestine has always been the conservative one, the diligent student, and the first to get caught when the three of them lies. It must’ve been taking everything from her just by asking Naomi for help. “Of course, silly. Next time don’t yell at me over the phone when you won’t even practice what you preach!” She poked her forehead.

The three of them heard the bell rang, a signal that their time is up. She wonders if she’ll hear something similar when her time is up. Naomi was the last to walk, falling three steps behind her best friends quarrelling over something petty. She heard something close to “this is why I always tell you to wear something less revealing” and “this is why your life is boring!” They’re always like that without Naomi aka their balance. What will they become when she finally leaves for good?

The girl with a heavy heart eyed sideways, glancing to where the school chapel stood serene. Distracting herself for a while, she notices that the doors are open, inviting her in. As a student in a catholic institution, Naomi isn’t new to the ins and outs of prayers, celebrating holy eucharists, and witnessing the knights of the altar guard the entrance. What’s new to her is this: seeing a suspiciously tall man, trailing her every move, wearing an all-black attire paired with leather shoes…standing just a few steps away from the guard in duty. He appears like he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be.

Naomi furrowed her eyebrows. Something about the stranger sends a shiver down her spine. She sensed an omen. She fastened her pace walking beside her best friends, asking them in panic, pointing towards the stranger, Do you guys see that man?

Her best friends only laughed, stopping mid-fight before joking that Naomi has finally lost it. Tiffany said that it is her need for boyfriend calling out to her. She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand why they said the spot is empty with no one in sight when clearly, the stranger just winked at her, licked his lips, and slid his eyeglasses up to cover most of his eyes. He even laughed a little, as if he’s rejoicing at how crazy she sounds in front of her friends.

Naomi felt her head throb a little, heart shooting up her throat. He could be a kidnapper, a rapist, a predator. Whatever he is, he is danger. Just by feeling his energy, she even feels she could die earlier than her tumor is supposed to kill her.

--

“Attention, everyone! For today, we will elect our section’s class officers. The floor is open to anyone who would like to nominate a president.”

The voices inside the classroom didn’t make it past her ears. Her teacher’s announcement, the murmurs, the giggles, every noise was reduced to a background static. Naomi’s heart kept beating wild. Her forehead sweating bullets as she locks gazes with the stranger outside, eyeing her from the window. It is the same man that she saw near the chapel, the same human being that her best friends couldn’t see.

“Naomi! Hey!”

“Huh?”

The girl squawked a little when Tiffany reaches to grab her hand and snap her out of trance. She didn’t realize that her name is already written on the board, labelled president beside. Wait, what? She glanced back to where the stranger eyes her from the outside only to realize he wasn’t there anymore. Her hands grow cold, anxiety washing over her system instead of relief.

“I said are you okay being our class president?” Tiffany turned to her fully now, with Celestine shushing the both of them. Naomi gulped.

“I…I—“ No words came out.

“You’re so out of your mind Naomi. Is this still about your boyfriend fever? Don’t worry, I’ll help you find one. I discovered this app recently—“

She felt her eyes traversed horizontally, looking for the figure she hopes she wouldn’t see again. She eyed the play park outside, the alley leading to the canteen, and the spot near the covered court but saw nothing.

“Tiffany! Don’t bring Naomi to your bad habits, what the hell?”

Accidentally, Naomi blinked her attention back to the front of the class, a reflex she wished she didn’t do. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have seen the man from the outside, now inside. Immediately, she felt every strand of hair in her body woke up, her eyelids widening further, her jaw hanging loose.

Guys, she thought. She couldn’t bring the words out in the open. Not when the man walked past her teacher and waved a gloved hand towards her direction, sitting over the teacher’s desk while everyone else seemed oblivious. No way, she couldn’t be the only one seeing him, right?

“GUYS!”

She yelled like a maniac, like a mad woman panting hard, in the brink of convincing everyone she isn’t crazy. The walking danger only laughed, crossing his arms over his broad chest and pulling his turtleneck sweatshirt a little higher in front of the class. Naomi’s lips trembled in fear, everyone is now looking at her. And before she could even utter another word, she witnessed how he went passing through the solid wall like it was the most normal thing to do. He disappeared before a hard shell, a human sight. She covered her mouth in realization. That’s when she knew it, knew why everyone else couldn’t see the stranger aside from her. He isn’t here for them, he is here for her. He is the angel of death, here to claim her soul.

“Let’s give our president a warm round of applause! Congratulations, Ms. Taylor!”

--

The day passed like an aggressive wind, unannounced and blowing everything she has away from her. Before she knew it, classes are already over and she’s already waving her friends goodbye.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Naomi? I swear, if it’s just about boys—“

“Tiffany! Can’t you read the room? Naomi’s troubled with the president role! Not boys!”

Before it even rained cats and dogs again, she decided to cut her best friends quarrel short. I’m fine, guys. Really, thank you for your concern. I’m just tired, I guess. She lied. She’s not tired, she couldn’t afford to be tired when the angel of death stood only a few steps away from her now, gawking at her, still completely invisible to her best friends eyes. It makes sense, they weren’t the ones dying. It was her.

She hugged them tightly, fighting the urge to cry. A silent goodbye. As long as they weren’t the ones in danger, she’ll be fine going like this.

Naomi walked silently, accepting of her fate. She bowed down her head towards the solid pavement with the orange sun slowly setting before her eyes. She sighed. She could still hear the footsteps beside her even among the passing of cars, the loudness of the engines, and the noise inside her head. But she isn’t afraid now. She knows it’s her time to go and she wouldn’t be bratty about it.

Too bad, she thought. She wanted to see her apartment one last time. She knows she couldn’t anymore. This is her last day, the last of her life. The presence of the man in black tells her that she doesn’t have anything to look forward to anymore. Besides, she can’t even afford the offered treatment. She can’t afford to hope.

With a sigh of defeat and courage mixed at once, she asked the man behind her, “you’re here to take me right?” Silence greeted her in return.

Thankfully, the bridge isn’t filled with people today. It would be easier to go this way. Naomi dropped her bag down the solid pavement, taking a turn towards the metal railings where a rock-filled river can be seen waiting from below. She smiled.

It’s her time to face the angel of death. As she angled her head to the left, she witnessed how the stranger’s face contorted for some unknown reason. Whatever it is, she didn’t want to know it. After all, this is what he wants, right?

Naomi placed a foot above the metal railings until the other followed its pair automatically. In a blink of an eye, she found herself standing a breath away from death, ready to jump into the darkness. She doesn’t regret anything. She lived a good life. She was alone, but not entirely. She never saw her parents but she never saw a life without friends too. It wasn’t a bad life.

She braced herself from the impact, closing her eyes shut and looking at the supernatural being tasked to get her soul one last time. She saw that he was running towards him, stretching out his palms, so hungry to take her flickering life out of her frail human body.

“Geez, don’t be so excited,” was the last joke to ever escape her mouth. In one deep exhale, she urged her body to lunge forward, fall face first down the rocky river.

She experienced a high for a brief second, expecting she’d be out of consciousness soon. But soon never came when she felt something solid grab her left wrist, a force pulling him up effortlessly. Huh?

The girl opened her eyes and tilted her head up, brown orbs meeting red. She can’t believe it. The angel of death is holding her wrist as she hangs mindlessly from the edge of the bridge. Her breath suddenly hitched, realizing how fearful it is to be hanging this way now, the height too much for her to bear. She found herself pathetically cry.

“i***t…” The angel of death spoke for the first time.