ESTRANGED

Canopy of darkness. Rusty bars. Small window. Deafening silence. Noises in my head.
Syringes. Bitter pills. Nurses. Crappy food on a metal plate. Affirmative. I’m in hell.

So apparently I am stuck in this place for being a tad “dangerous.” We all get angry
sometimes. I don’t understand why my parents made me pay for the sin everyone does, in a
despair-driven asylum. My dad gets angry when I play fight with my brother. My teacher got
furious when I hit Stephen Cruz with my Math textbook on the head when he made indecent
comments about women. People get angry. I don’t see why I’m the only one confined in this
stupid institution.

Okay, I admit. I get episodes. The doctor diagnosed me with Intermittent Explosive
Disorder. Yes, it’s a real thing. I explode like a bomb. This feeling I have when I’m mad… It’s
excruciatingly out of proportion. I get tremors all over my body, like a million spiders crawling
inside my veins all the way to my head, eating its way out, decomposing the last of my
conscience, my sense of humanity. I hear echos, echos that ring like tinnitus inside my ears… I
feel my chest pounding like it’s about to burst and destroy a whole city… When all of those
feelings add up, I do crazy things. I hurt people. I have never killed anyone, though. That’s just
beyond me.

I was confined when I attempted to burn my school back in my hometown. Why? I failed
Math. Sucks, right? Anyway, that was all in the past. The doctors, nurses and my parents think I
am ready to go back to the mundane, teenage life I am destined to live and enjoy. College, it is.

“Iha, please drink these meds after lunch, okay? Promise me,” Mom reminded me for a
thousand times already while sliding the bottle into my backpack. “Yes Ma. Love you. Bye.” I
kissed her cheeks then left the comfort of our doorstep and onto the cruel world that banished
me. I saw the worried look on her face before I left. I tried to brush the pain away but to no avail.
I hopped in our car and put my earphones on to quell my nervousness. My metanoia never
changed my music taste. I closed my eyes as I listen to Guns N’ Roses, hoping to have a normal,
anger-free life. Sensibility, please don’t betray me.

I got out of the car and walked inside the campus so unfamiliar since we practically just
moved here. The guard inspected my bag and eyed me intently as I entered the University; as if
she knew me for years. I feel everyone looking at me as I walked the corridors. Why is everyone
looking at me?! Naomi… CALM DOWN. WALK FASTER. WALK. WALK. WALK UNTIL
YOU DON’T SEE- ouch! I just hit a tree. No, it’s just a tall guy.

“Are you okay?” A husky voice said while patting my head. “You’re in a hurry, aren’t
you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I was just looking for this room.” I shoved my class schedule to his face.
“Do you know where this is?”

“That’s a little far from here. May I walk with you? I’m ER by the way.” He smiled his
brightest smile while holding out his hand. I reached for his hand; they were warm and calloused.
“I’m Naomi. Just call me Nam.” I tried to flash a confident, bright smile like his but failed. I was
so nervous and intimidated. I couldn’t.

He was going on and on about the terrifying professors, annoying classmates and toxic
class schedules as we trekked the never-ending corridors. I stared at him like a breathtaking
mountainous view, sifting through every God-given detail of his face. He was definitely a tall
man. His hair was gelled into an attempted sundae shape, but the tiny curls are giving him away.
His eyes are light brown, sort of a dazed expression, and elated at the same time. He always
looked like someone who just won the lottery. His nose is adorably pointed at the end in a side
view, and button-shaped in front. His lips… I should stop staring at him like an idiot.

“Nam, did you get concussion from the bump? Are you okay? Did you hear me just
now?” He looked genuinely worried. “I’m okay.” I muttered

“This is your classroom, which means that you’re taking up Psychology. Cool. Your
prof’s here. I should get going. See you around.” He waved while running swiftly, but
unfortunately he slipped like a baby antelope. The floor was newly mopped. I laughed harder
than I should. He looked very embarrassed but still managed to shout despite the judging eyes of
other students, “Happy looks good on you. You should smile more.” He continued running while
I watch his back fade into the distance.

The professor started discussing the requirements and the grading system as I write the
important information down in my notebook. How can someone be so nice to a stranger? How
can someone be so awkward yet alluring? How can someone radiate so much positivity despite
stumbling in front of everyone? How can I stop thinking about him?

“Ms. Concepcion? Are you around?” I had to halt my reverie when the prof called my
name. “Here, Ma’am!” My hands shot into the air.

“Listen carefully next time Ms. Concepcion.”

I need laser-like focus now that I’m going to college, not let some boy distract me. Focus,
Naomi, focus. The bell rang and we were dismissed.

I was the first one to leave the classroom, looking on both directions, heading nowhere.

“Hi. Looking for me?” ER was leaning on a post near the registrar’s office, carrying his
backpack one-sided on his shoulder. I smiled, feeling warmth and comfort oozing inside me, and
I just said, “No way.” Of course I was. He took my books without saying a word and carried
them for me. And just like that, he carried my damned, stigma-stricken, horrifying existence for
me like they were a pile of books.

Fast forward to the most glorious moments of my life, ER and I were intertwined like a
finger is to a finger, a glacier in the Auden’s Coltrek, a vine to a branch… We were inseparable.

He walked me to class every single day. He took me out to these amazing restaurants. He
sent mini notes of encouragement everyday, slipping it in one of my notebooks. Ah, so romantic.
He also never failed to impress my parents, reassuring them that his company will always make
me safe as a baby bird. He introduced me to people who are supposed to be endangered around
my presence, whom I now call friends. Most of all, he made my wearisome, peculiar, hostile life
into a fairytale.

I told him about my condition. I was afraid he would leave me. To my surprise, he simply
embraced me into the refuge of his arms saying, “I’m here for you. I will never leave you.”

I started to tear up and I knew right there and then, I will never let go of this man. He is a
heaven-sent gift who is meant to straighten me up, to lead a better life.

While waiting outside his classroom, swinging the lunch bentos I made for the both of us
to eat at the school cafeteria, I saw him heading out with a classmate, a girl to be specific.
 The girl was giggling while hitting him on his shoulder gently, laughing like a broken
ambulance siren. I approached them both without hesitation and imposingly asked, “Hi. Who are
you?”

ER answered on her behalf, “This is Dianne. She was just telling me about the project
we’re supposed to make together for the finals.”

“Oh hi! You must be Naomi! He told me so much about you!” Dianne giggled elbowing
my boyfriend, flirtingly staring at him like a moron.

ER was perfectly still, sweats dropping from his forehead like bullets, hands fidgeting
like a mouse dying from poisoned cheese. And I, the feared patient no. 245 of the San Juanito
Asylum, just froze in front of them, saying nothing, my face saying everything. The tremors
started to grow inside me, then I looked into ER’s eyes. His eyes held me back.

“Love, is it alright if she eats with us in the cafeteria? We need to do some planning on
our project. It’s due on Monday. Is that okay?” ER hesitantly asked me. I could throw a fit,
create a scandalous scene but I am not that person anymore. I couldn’t do that to ER.

All I could manage to say was, “Sure, but maybe I should just go home. You’re both
going to talk about boring Engineering stuff and I don’t want to get in the way.” I handed him
the lunch I had made. “I made that for you. It’s your favorite.” Then he gave me a peck on the
cheeks and went on their way. I watch their backs turn, their shadows elongated, slowly
disappearing into view. What I felt was different. I looked for the tremors I was once so familiar
with. They were gone. I found it hard to breathe. I was gasping for air. My chest is about to
burst. I have never once complained about the way I felt but this feeling, I absolutely hate it.

Days passed, ER was still nowhere to be found. I waited for him outside my classroom,
he didn’t arrive. I tried going to his classroom, he wasn’t there. The flirtatious bitch was also
missing in action. My mind began to race, projecting vivid scenarios of where they were, what
they’re doing and why… Why are they doing this to me? I called him repeatedly too. It’s
decided. I’m going to pay a surprise visit.

I knocked two times and his Mom opened the door. “Hi Ganda. ER is not here yet. Please
come in. We have your favorite snack, Biko.” Tita Elena greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and
a bear hug. We chatted for awhile but I left because ER wasn’t there. Upon going outside their
house, I stumbled upon ER and Dianne facing each other, looking too serious. It could be about
the project. I took a step when to my utter astonishment, THAT CONNIVING DAUGHTER OF
THE DEVIL KISSED ER! It was for a good three seconds when ER pushed her away stunned,
“What are you doing?”

Tremors kicking in. Echos. Blurry Vision. Adrenaline Rush. I sprinted towards the bitch
and just did whatever I needed to do. I pulled her hair. Then I punched her horrendous, blood-
stricken face repeatedly. The world was turning rapidly at that moment. She was helpless, didn’t
fight back and just begged me to stop. Her begging voice just echoed, meaning nothing to me. I
didn’t budge when ER tried to pull her away from me but he was strong. He pulled me out of the
hellhole I was starting to create for me and her.

With all her mustered strength, she wiped the blood off her face, snickering at me with a
cowardly expression, “I am the girl ER truly likes, not you. You are nothing but ill. Leave us
alone and go back to your mental prison, will you?” ER was about to say something but then, I
saw a boulder by the sidewalk right where we are, about the size of my fist.

The voices told me to grab the boulder, beat her head repeatedly with it until gushes of
blood come out. I should be able to see bits of her brain oozing out of her scalp, and her head
distorted like a rotten melon. By the time the voices stopped talking, I found her lifeless body,
eyes open, her flowing blood painting the street like a canvas. ER still was trying to pull me
away from hell again. I was holding the blooded boulder in my right hand. I dropped the boulder.
I just made her final wish come true.

Canopy of darkness. Rusty bars. Small window. Deafening silence. Noises in my head.
Syringes. Bitter pills. Nurses. Crappy food on a metal plate. Affirmative. I’m back in hell. They
were wrong. I don’t have Intermittent Explosive Disorder. I have something even worse. One of
the symptoms for IED was guilt. My doctor informed me that after the episode, I was supposed
to feel guilt. Instead, there was clarity. I have never felt so alive. She already knew how much I
love ER. This is all her fault so she’s better off dead with her eyes open, watching ER perfectly
in love with me. This is what people get for destroying other people’s true happiness. I only had
one and she ruined everything! Anyway, so much for that. ER can still pay me visits, right?