[LS] Joanna

Name : Azhann Rosmin
Class : LGB3A
Semester : 3
Title : Joanna
Word Count : 2937 words
Category : Story


Part One 

Running. Slipping. Falling. Hurting.

Heavy tears of the clouds above rain down on me - drenching me to my aching bones. The curtain of drops covers the fresh tracks that run down my face and I sobbed my hardest. This can’t be.

I was so sure - so certain that I was finally right. But Fate has an undeniably cruel sense of humor and often a tediously blithesome manner of tormenting people into believing. While Destiny of times plays it safe - hiding behind the veil, mouthing the path we ought to follow. Both which are completely different - both tremendously the same. For me, both joined arms in haling the very essence of my soul - having me walk down the path with terrible shame and unbearable pain.

I fall hard, skinning my palms and knees. I wheeze out the pain and strain my being. But it is nothing compared to what is happening within. I disregard the fervent impulses sent to my head and clamber to my feet. Blood stains the wet floor crimson and dark.

My mind fazes at the very thought of what just happened. I muffle a scream of pure anguish behind my bloodstained hands - causing my eyes to redden with tears.

I bite my tongue to regain control. I rid the red stain off my hands on my jeans - the friction provoking more pain - and sink in the lift button. As the doors open, the stench of old gears, metallic rust, and compacted space sweep through me and I smirk.

I defy the force of gravity as the lift slowly moved upwards. Then, she comes flawlessly to mind and my smirk turns into a simper. I shake free of her - not wanting anymore anguish. The very thought of her evokes a legion of feelings. Feelings that are so strong, they overthrow any state of mind and sanity. They stroke submissively at the heart - the soul. They manipulate ways of thinking, of reasoning. I thought I was well prepared, strong enough to face any possible and impossible outcome that may rear its head. But Fate proved its cruelty by beating me senseless to the ground and brutally whispering in my ear that I was wrong.

The doors open and a rush of cold wind knock me gruelingly. I shut my eyes, turn slightly sideways, and stagger onwards.




Part Two

I can’t let my family see me like this - especially Mom. She’d freak out madly, causing controlled havoc within the sanctuary of the apartment. To see her son drenched wet and gory would harry me into never-ending questioning and worry.

I go for the alternative.

On the far side of the elevator lies a narrow hall that leads to a balcony. It overlooks the distant hills. The space between walls is so close together it still strikes me befuddled why it was built that way. Withal, I can still squeeze through and reach the balcony. The balcony doesn’t only overlook the hills; it also overlooks all the kitchens’ on the block. And I smiled at myself.

I climb over the railing.

Hanging for dear life and wincing off the pain in my hands, I sneak a peek over my shoulder. There it is - my kitchen. There is a small ledge that links the balcony’s railing to the kitchen’s. But I’d have made a small leap to get there. And there is nothing to grab on to when I do. I think.

Assuring myself that I can make it, I angle myself for the jump. The plan is to make the leap, lean in to the wall, and jump towards the kitchen’s balcony. I wipe my hands on my shirt and count to three.

One…

Two…

Wait! My hand slips and I struggle to keep balance. I peer into the kitchen and there she is - Mom - staring down her cup of cold, stale coffee.

I think hard. How am I suppose to get past without her noticing? I go through my options - though limited as they are. And dangling from a balcony blood-soaked doesn’t make it easier. I fall over and hit the floor with my face. Groaning, I stand and make my way towards the front door.

The plan is simple. Go in, rush out, and come in again. I’d have to move fast to make sure it’ll work and having bloody hands and knees won’t help a bit.

I stand in front of the door with my finger on the bell. I push it in and speed towards the narrow hallway, leading to the overlooking balcony.



Part Three 

I hang from the railing, counting myself down for the leap. I listen hard for the door to open on the far side from where I am. The kitchen’s empty. Mom’s gone to open the door.

The familiar soft roar of the door opening fills the air to my far left. I make the leap. I slip on the ledge. I lose my balance. I fall - silently screaming my head off.

I flail my arms and one take hold of something - the ledge. The kitchen’s. My whole arm strains as my weight succumbs to the seductive pull of gravity. I reach up with my other and haul all the strength I can muster to pull myself safe.

Dropping flat on my back, I breathe in and out relief. But I can’t linger on the near-death victory, I have to move. Fast.

I stand then crouch, straining my ears to look for any signs of Mom. I think she has gone out, in search of her missing son - who is just under her nose, sneaking like a fox. Guilt crawls up my back and sinks its teeth deep. I whisper an apology to her as I stealth through the kitchen - shaking off the biting menace off my back.

The smell of stale coffee aroused the menace to bite again and I struggle to shake it loose.

I come to the hallway between the kitchen and the living room. The lights are off. I move without sound. I push the door open and feel myself in the darkness through the furniture. In a swift moment, I am standing with my back on the door of my bedroom.

I quickly grab my towel and dry my hair and the blood. I change into sweats. I hide the wet clothing under my bed and press my ear to the door. I hear the front door opening faintly. I move.

Past the living room. Through the hallway. When I am shy off the reach to the kitchen, I see Mom’s shadow on the floor. She turned on the front door lights. I make a dive for the kitchen.

Carefully this time, I make the leap without slipping. Catching my breath and controlling my beat, I pace for the front door. I slip the sleeves of my sweater over my palms - covering the soon-to-be-scars - and press the bell button.

In a pause, Mom looks at me in an unexplainable expression. She hangs between the opened doors, eyeing me whole self. She stops abruptly at my eyes. And her face hardened.

“Where have you been?”

“You didn’t have to stay up for me, mom.”

“I was worried.”

“You shouldn’t have. I was just out for a walk,” I lied.

She ganders. I smile.

“I’m okay, mom.”

She lets me in but her worried gazes burn holes in my back. I walk in suppressed agony. All that running, climbing, sneaking, and losing blood got the best out of me. I grow weary. I sway.

Mom catches me from under my arms. I instantly wake.

“Dear. Where actually have you been? It is raining outside. Surely you didn’t walk in the rain?"

Her voice is so full of worry, it breaks me down.

I hold firm. Not wanting her to see her proud son fall victim to weeping tears and sobbing moans. I turn to her. She peers deep into my eyes, brushing gently my soul without any movement. Mothers have this kind of power – to be able to comfort their children simply without effort. They can lift impossible weights to save their children. They can hold firm when their children throw tantrums. They suffer through the pain of bearing us just so they can hold us close - closer. I love my mom more than anything in the world and yet I can’t be as strong as she is. I hold back the angry tears. Angry because I am weak.

“Whatever you are going through, move on. Life is all about those things that break you. Our sole purpose is to either go through them and walk away or fall because of them and get back up again. Listen, dear. If life didn’t have any problems or challenges that can break you completely, you wouldn’t know how to actually feel free. Sometimes we need to be broken to be complete. Like a puzzle, we are broken to a million bits so that we can arrange ourselves accordingly - into whatever we please. Stay firm, strong. Tears never solved anything. Take it all in and look at the world happy. Never let the world know what’s going on. You are the world to me.”

I stare at her - perplexed. I look down, cursing at myself.
She cups my chin and kisses my brow.

“Now, are you hungry? I can make those sandwiches you like so much.”

“Thanks, mom. But I’m not. I think I’ll head to bed. Tired.”

She smiles and lets me go after another kiss. I fight back the tears and make my way towards my bedroom. My whole being is begging to cry out.



Part Four

Everything is suddenly a surprise - like her. The soft blow of the wind from the open window, the tender scents of the air after the rain, the rustle of the leaves, the whispers of the night, the twinkle of the stars, the shine of the moon - everything. I can’t bear it anymore.

I break down of the cold floor. Tears running. Voice cracking. Mind unraveling. Pain was a comfort compared to this. I have no idea what is going on yet it feels uncommonly recognizable - like old scars being ripped open. A feeling of something crumbles - something deeper than the heart, the soul, the very existence of my being.

I pull my head back and let out whatever was within. My roar is loud, shattering the timid barriers that held insanity back. Amidst my screams, I hear Mom let lose her fists on my door - screaming, crying out for me. I hear her crying the most. Angry, worried, scared sobs. Sense leaves me as I let go and I fall forwards - wishing that I could sink through the floor, into the ground, to the very core of the world. Just so I could disappear completely and let Death guide me safely. And my last words would be, “I will wait for you, Joanna.”



The End

I am soaring. Flying through nothing. Rushing into everything. I feel myself leave the physical world completely - into some other that is simpler, something more than a world. I can’t feel anything but everything. Is this it?

The nothingness shifts into darkness and I tumble endlessly in it - not bothering to neither flail my being nor scream my lungs. It is needless. Hopeless.

Is this the end of the path? It sure feels like an extension than an end. Eternity? Did Death finally catch up and bring me down without me noticing? I darkly hope so. This is better than what I have to suffer before. I’d rather whirl in nothingness than succumb to unbearable agony. I close my eyes and savor the sweet and silent treatment Death is providing. But I can’t. I don’t have eyes anymore. Not a face. Not a body. Not a heart. Not a soul.

I can still think though. Is this my resurrection? As a thought? A wink of the mind that can easily be warded off? I’d laugh at myself if I had a mouth. All through my life, now is the most free I’ve felt. No pain can hurt me. Nothing can, will. I feel indestructible.

I come upon a jumbled pile of different colored lights. Every single patch pulsating violently and moving - as though excited I have finally arrived. I move, by my own will, towards the pile. Not knowing what this part has Death provided for me.

I stare - if I’d have eyes - at the lights. Except they aren’t just lights. They are memories. My memories. Everything from the day I took in the first painful breaths to the point when I fell forwards on the floor, broken. The memories stop pulsating as I reach for one of them. A memory of her.

Though resurrected as a thought, I break down again. Non-existing tears fall and an invisible heart recedes all its essence. I scream a silent roar and the memories fade, disappearing into nothingness. Even the memories of her. How do you get out of Eternity? Can one literally die again? I wish I can.

As I sob and grieve, a call for me wipes it all away. But it is faint. I think it is her.

Like swimming against the current, I find it hard to turn back. I follow the voice, the call for me - her. It is making me strain whatever is of me to get to her. To call back, to be back, to be alive. But Fate and Destiny are there on the far side of where I am fighting to go to. Smirking, japing, and teasing my efforts. I ignore their insults and taunts. I fight my way through.

The memories come back. They drift beside me - as though cheering me to fight on. They pulse brilliantly and Hope grabs my hand. One particular memory is glowing warmly - her.

I touch the memory and feel jolts of comforting waves of something familiar run all over me. I smile. I have a mouth. And I cry. I have eyes. I reach out for the voice and I can see my hands. I feel my whole existing being get excited as I smooth towards the voice. My thoughts complete and I picture her.

The soft eyes that once imprisoned me in a stare. The brown curls that bounced merrily when she laughed. The voice that floated effortlessly and tenderly into my soul. The warm brush of her skin when we embraced. The smile that weakened my being. The giggle she hid. The sound she made when she’s thinking. She is complete in my head and I tell Hope she is it. That I am sure.

I glide with Hope guiding me - Death cursing disgustingly behind us as we do.

It lasts less than a second.

I am lying flat on the floor. My eyes closed, sweat covering my face and body. The perfect memory of her lingers and I smile. Hope urges me to open my eyes. I count myself down - excited that I finally have the chance to burst my heart out to her. To tell her that she is my savior. That I owe my life to her. That I love her.

“Dear.”

“Mom?” I whisper.

*************************************************************

It has been a week since I was brought back by her memory and Mom’s voice. I am grateful that Death didn’t claim me as its own. And yet I feel terrible because I am never to see her again. I’ve conquered Death and ignored Fate and Destiny but they have another prowling and sly friend - Difference. And it has brothers of its own. Namely Past, Present, and Future. I wish Difference never existed. And its brothers to vanquish sorrowfully.

I walk down a path that is familiar - the path towards my home. It is night and the sky is clear of clouds. The stars wink and the moon smiles. The trees wave me mirthfully as I pass under them. I am soaked though. It was raining, drizzling. And the scent of the air makes me think of her. I feel no sorrow when she visits me in my thoughts. She sometimes does even when I sleep. I no longer recall what had happen between us at the very end. I am regretfully unable to forget but I have the choice to not ponder on it when I please. She is a memory I choose to remember. A memory I risk to not forget.

I stand beneath the stars and the moon. I let my lungs fill with the scents that remind me of her. I urge my thoughts to be only of her. I close my eyes, position my face towards the sky, and spread out my hands so that everything tonight can hear me.

“Hear me, Joanna. You are the Death that destroyed me. You are the Memory that saved me. You are the Light that I will never ever let fade. You are the Hope that will guide me through. You are the Fate and Destiny that I will follow. And You will always be the one that I am sure. Let Difference die and its brothers follow. If you can’t hear me now - Hear me, Trees. Hear me, Stars. Hear me, Moon. Hear me, Sky. Hear me, Night. Hear me, World. Carry this message to her. I will be waiting, risking everything, here. Then, Now, Soon, and Forever. Hear me! Carry this to Joanna!”


EDITED BY : Najiha Elyani Binti Abu Hasan Nuddin