A Serenade For The Innocent 3 Emergence Illusion

I was late for school the following day. I knew my instructor would mark me as absent anyway so I went straight to my office instead. I was expecting a quiet and lonely room but I'm welcomed with the sour faces of the members of the student council instead. In front of them is a faculty member uttering things I cannot hear from afar. They're all cl.u.s.tered together like one of those shady back-alley transactors, whispering secrets among themselves, and I want in.

"I want all of you to hear about this first before the princ.i.p.al formally announces it." She paused with her mouth open. She's hesitating, or perhaps she's trying to find a better way to articulate her sentence.

I stared down at them as they speak among each other on the sofa, some members sitting on the floor, in front of the esteemed teacher, to properly hear what she has to say. I placed my bag on my table and quietly tiptoed towards the gathering. None seemed to acknowledge my already divine presence as I pace around at the back of the teacher. She continues to stutter the right thing to say, they continue to invalidate my ember.

This is the first time I've seen these future dropouts looking so serious, what's gotten into them? I'd expect a gigantic commotion from them, this is the first time I've been late since the dawn of my education. I don't know, I think I deserve a better reception than them casually ignoring me. But whatever, it saves me from trying to make excuses for myself.

I took my final step and idled myself in front of the gathering, towering my presence over the oblivious council members. I gazed down at every single one of them as I smile ever so gently at the back of the jittering teacher. I positioned myself in front of them with my hips on the right side, chest puffed out, and my hands firmly grasping my waist. With monstrous vigor, I tapped my left foot's heel as I divert my gaze down letting myself heard if not seen.

Sitting so nonchalantly yet none of them has got the decency to give me a seat at least? The sound of my heel hitting the hard, cold concrete floor of the architectural marvel that is the student council office, with all the cheap tiles and dirty beige wallpapers, vibrates all throughout the dusty corners of the darn place, probably making several spiders fall from their webs.

The council members noticed my presence but none of them dared look up at me. Sweat piled up on their bodies and their skin turned pale but none of them seemed to mind the ever continuous tapping of my shoe as it grew louder and stronger along with the mumbling gibberish of the already forgotten faculty staff. I can already see them shake, look at each other in discomfort, utterly embarra.s.sed that none of them took notice of their queen.

Treason!

"I know some of you are friends with a student named John Smith."

The teacher's voice took the rising tension on the room back to a bare minimum once again. Ah, yes, she was talking about something, and it d.a.m.n well better be something important because I sure can f.u.c.k her license up if she's actually just wasting my time.

"Of course, ma'am; in fact, Ms. President is in the same cla.s.s with him." Claire, my secretary whimpered, fixing her gla.s.ses. Of course, she would be the one to spill that fact, gossiping wh.o.r.e. Can't she shut her mouth for a second?

"That's okay, miss," I patted the troubled teacher's shoulder. She twitched her back and stared at me with eyes drowning in tears. "You don't have to keep forcing yourself like that. Take a deep breath and calm yourself, we can be here all day."

She took a deep breath, releasing her anxiety out of her nostrils; she managed to give a warm smile at me as she placed her soft, yet sweaty, palms on top of my hand. "I see." She gulped down her saliva. "We just heard terrible news from the police and his parents, you know, the boy I was talking about the uh, um this John Smith uh the John Smith he's..." She took another deep breath followed by a sigh. She hesitated once again.

"Quit with the hesitation, ma'am. Give it to us straight!" A male student council member broke the stillness of the room. I gotta admit I like this guy, bold and brash, the woman is obviously anxious but he's not accepting any of that! It's either his way or no ones'! I really can't blame him; this woman is taking a long time to gather her thoughts.

"I agree with Mr. Jason," f.u.c.k, is his name, Jason or Mason? Ah, whatever! "We're not kids anymore, whatever it is we can take it as adults can." Just spit it out, we don't need you here anymore!

"To be very frank with you, children, the faculty just heard about it moments ago." f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, really? The b.i.t.c.h is stalling again, are you serious? "Your cla.s.smate and your dear friend he's... He's found dead. He was uhm... found on the road, what's it called...? Anyway, the one near our school. Mr. John Smith is..." She teared up before she could finish her statement.

So that's why she's stalling.

The room turned silent, all of them bowed down, some even cried, others closed their eyes. Wait, this is impossible! First, why are they sad! John Smith has no friends to weep for him. If you can see me now, you'll know I am not buying any of this. I talked to him last night! I yelled at them in disbelief, there is no way they're serious! But it was all over the news. The teacher even attempted to call the police to explain the situation. That is when I accepted his death.

Huh?

I talked with him last night on the phone!

John Smith is not alive anymore.

But he was well when we were talking last night.

John Smith is already being mourned.

Is that why he begged for my help?

John Smith is no more.

I can't believe this.

John Smith is dead.

They don't understand why I'm overreacting like this. But with the way I am handling this situation, showing my shock on my face is their cue they should give me some s.p.a.ce. What is going on? This is happening way too fast. What about the stalker who keeps photographing him? Is he the one responsible for all this? What about John's family? Am I the only one who knows this? What about the picture he sent me? Is that really him? There's no way this is a coincidence!

What am I going to do?

I am not even his friend, yet I'm the only who comes close enough to be his friend here. And I couldn't save him. I still can't believe this is not a prank.

Why is this happening now when I am about to be his friend!

Police found his body on the highway this morning. News said he's in such a terrible state that the mere thought of his corpse made my four-eyed secretary weep. I searched for my phone so I can check the headlines online. f.u.c.k, I forgot that I threw it on the wall! I walked out of the office without a word. Someone tried to stop me but I could care less about him. I went straight to the computer room with tears dropping down my eyes every step I take.

The professor said little about it, but the internet said a lot. It sounded lazy, but it was my only chance of knowing the truth. If I'll never understand what tormented John, at least let me know how he died! I opened a computer. I bite my fingernails. Waiting for it to load has never been this stressful.

I took almost an hour finding it but there it is! I found a thread in 4chan that told me all I need to know about John's death. The last thing I expected to see is an image of his body. I closed my eyes disgusted, unnerved that I can see this online. No doubt about it, the man in the image is my cla.s.smate, John Smith.

I skim through the thread with my hands covering my lips. I was about to throw up after the first comment, but I must not stop. There's no way I'd give up on him now. I closed my eyes and reviewed what I know. He has no more limbs when the authorities found his body. What bothered me more is how well they described the mutilation. The weapon used was a saw; I didn't ponder more into it. But there's no blood in the crime scene. I stopped scrolling as I felt my palm sweating.

It was even noted that there's a huge hole in his stomach, burning his intestines. Their theory is the victim swallowed a bomb cindering his body. No one knows about the police's autopsy report about the hole in his stomach so no one could say for certain what happened to him. But it doesn't end there. After that suffering, John had to go through, the perpetrator scourge. So that's why his skin is red and violet in the image. f.u.c.k, I remembered it again! It's so distressing but I can't help myself from being disgusted by it. They left him like that in the middle of nowhere.

The bizarre part about his body, aside from the torture he went through, is his head. It was cold as if it's frozen and it's unharmed. Signs of **** are present in his body. I was about to throw up reading the information regarding the s.e.xual a.s.sault done to the body so I dwelt little into it. However, I saw something I will never ever forget in my entire life. The most horrible part of this entire murder case. Do you want to hear the worst part of the story?

John Smith is already dead when the **** happened.

I stare blankly at the computer monitor with my mouth wide open. This is the first time I've seen something like this! I felt like I want to puke from reading all of these... these... disgusting information! But I can't believe even knowing this I still can't cry for John. I want to but I can't.

No. It makes me tear up, but the tears are just not flowing.

I lay in bed and contemplated. Why am I not crying? Is this how loathsome I am? Is this the heartless b.a.s.t.a.r.d I've become? Sure, John Smith and I are not friends; we don't even know each other. I'm just looking at him, always looking ever since we were children but here I am still not crying and I don't know why.

I've thought long and hard. When my brain realized that what I'm doing is useless I fell asleep. I woke up early which is surprising considering how late I fell asleep, wait, what time did I even slept? I don't know anymore, I'm so confused. What if none of this is real? If this is all just a terrible dream, I could do it all over again. If I have the chance to Ctrl Z time, the first thing I'd do is leave John alone.

Perhaps if I never talked to him, I wouldn't be feeling this hallowed emptiness inside of me.

I would go straight to the bathroom now I'm awake, but I'm just lying on the bed with my eyes wide open, looking at the ceiling but nothing ever comes inside my head. It seems like the white paint on my ceiling is changing colors, the dirt is crawling, swirling above like worms and snakes.

"What are you afraid of, Margaux?" A familiar voice rang in my left ear.

"John?" I said still looking at the swirling dirt on my ceiling.

"Are you afraid of the monsters?"

"No, I'm not."

"Then what are you afraid of, Margaux?" The familiar voice continues to whisper but this time in my right ear.

"I'm not afraid, John."

"Are you afraid of ghosts, Margaux?"

"I'm not afraid of ghosts, I'm not afraid of any of those. They are not real." I said still looking, unblinking, on the swirling dirt on my ceiling.

Then the random swirling turned baleful as it moves with greater precision. The blackened dirt in my white ceiling swirls like snakes and worms to form a... face?

Like a painter swirling a black pigment into a canvas, the dirt in my ceiling formed into something different. It turned into the face of a man with his eyes closed. The face of a man I'm familiar with. I could see the dirt forming into his messy hair and even his sunken eyeb.a.l.l.s on his eye bags.

"John? What are you doing in my ceiling?"

John's face made of black dirt in my white ceiling moved like a fast roulette coming down towards me.

"What are you afraid of, Margaux?"

"I'm not afraid of your monsters, John."

"That is not an answer."

I said nothing.

John's face comes closer and closer to me. "Are you delicious, Margaux?" He then licks my chin like a child licking a lollipop. John licks from my chin towards my left cheek. "What are you afraid of, Margaux?" John's face made of dirt said.

"I'm afraid of you."

"Margaux." John's face made of dirt whispers while licking my chin.

"What?"

"Margaux." John's face made of dirt said.

"What?"

"Margaux!" John's face made of dirt shouted.

"What!?"

"MARGAUX!"

"What is it, mom?" I said looking at my mom standing in the doorway.

"How many times do I have to call you? What do your time do you think it is? You're already late! G.o.d, look at hideous you are! Wipe the spit off your face and eat your breakfast."

"Okay, okay, G.o.d, you don't have to be so loud in the morning."

"Also, your father bought you a new phone! He said your old one was not working anymore, my goodness, you don't know just how lucky you are to have this kind of technology! When I was your age-"

"I get, I get it! Okay! I'm awake now! Jeez, mom!" I said as I walk past her.

"Oh, you will not sa.s.s me when you're living here under my roof!"

I carried on straight to the shower room. I guess I have to wipe the spit off my face first.

"What the h.e.l.l is this?" I whispered looking at the black spot on my cheek and some on my chin. Is this... dirt? Why the h.e.l.l do I have dirt on my face? Oh, what the f.u.c.k, maybe it's just something in my pillow. Mom would clean it later, or not. She'd yell at me to do it myself later.

I was about to open the shower when I saw my door is ajar. Didn't I close that? I walked towards the door, leaving the shower half open. Gosh, so glad this is not a public restroom. I pulled it closed and locked the door.

Just ignore them all.

I opened the shower and let the water flow on my body.

Just ignore them all.

I closed my eyes and rinse my body with soap.

Just ignore them all.

"Why are you afraid of me, Margaux?"

I screamed! Who the f.u.c.k was that? What the h.e.l.l was that? Who was that? I gasped as I look around the shower, no one's here, it's just me. Someone whispered in my ear, I'm sure! I heard somebody and no one in the world could ever say otherwise. Or am I going mad? I looked around as I gasp. I'm finding it hard to breathe.

"Are you okay, honey?" My mom said, knocking on the door.

"Yeah, uh, no, I'm fine," I said, breathing in each syllable. "There's just this, thing, unh, I tripped, it's nothing, I'm okay!"

My mom pondered no longer after telling me to be careful. I washed the soap off my body and left as fast as I can. My mind is stopping itself from processing, it threw me into this trance of blackness. I didn't even use a shampoo or a conditioner, nothing. This hard pounding in my chest won't let me. I want to disappear from that place.

I went towards my bathroom again after wearing my uniform. Maybe someone's inside but I'm too stumped to find him. Whoever he is, he picked the wrong f.u.c.king target because if I caught a glimpse of him I will bash him with my dad's wooden bat!

I pushed the door open. I didn't even close the lights inside.

There's no one inside. In fact, there's nothing weird at all. It's just the same old bathroom. I felt like I threw a ton of weight off my chest. I sighed with relief and chuckled.

"What am I, twelve?" I laughed.

I'm relieved that no one is there. But I'm much more relieved that I'm able to close the lights or else my mom would erupt like Krakatoa again.

I came late to school again. I feel heavy and bloated. And then there's that whisper thing in the shower. Today is just not my day. I'm lucky the teacher in the first period is not attending our cla.s.s. I know because I'll be the first person they'll inform if they won't be coming. So no one's mad that I'm late, they're surprised though.

"Are you okay Steph?" A cla.s.smate of mine asked with an obvious fake concern.

"Yes, thank you."

He's still speaking but I can't hear him anymore. As he spoke more about his life, or whatever it is he's talking about, a slight vibration inside of my bag caught my attention. It was a text message. But this is a new phone! Who's texting me? Is this my mom? No, this is not her number, who the h.e.l.l is this then?

I opened the text message with much hesitation. There's a picture attached to it.

Wait.

This is me. This is a photo of me sitting right here in this spot!

"What?" What the f.u.c.k is going on?

My heart raced. I could even see my cla.s.smate standing next to me in the image. It's not just a recent photo; it's taken seconds before this moment. I covered my lips with my hands. The picture made my stomach turn, and it gave me this unfathomable angst. I peeked at the guy beside me. He didn't seem to see what's on my phone. I turned my gaze to the window. There is nothing there but the blue sky.

My head is turning. What is going on? I can feel the ice cold sweat dripping through my body. Everything froze, except for my trembling hands. I didn't even realize it but I'm already biting my fingernails.

I looked outside once again. No one? No one at all! There is n.o.body who could take this photo. What the f.u.c.k is happening? I looked around and everybody is minding their own businesses. If someone did take this photo he's not there anymore. Or maybe he's hiding? Perhaps he's hiding beneath the walls? Hah, but that's impossible! We're on the second floor, there's no way he could be hanging there, right?

Unless he does have a... No, impossible! I refuse to believe that such sorcery is the reason behind his feats! There has to be an explanation to all these! Maybe this impudent apparition-esque malevolence is actually a cla.s.smate of ours?

But if that's the case then who is the monster John texted me the night he died? Then my theory that this malignant ent.i.ty is a part of us is already debunked. Unless John lied to me, which is not out of the question.

I reverted my gaze back to my phone again. There are more photos in it. It scared me. I don't want to see it but my finger continued scrolling. I want to stop, but I can't. This is the reason John died because I did not stop. I need to stop, but I didn't. Something inside of me shouts, and it says I shouldn't do this anymore, but I'm still not stopping. I realize that what comes after my stolen shot are more photographs of printed words underlined by a ball pen. Is this what I think it is?

I've closed my eyes as I read the words in the photos.

Meet. Me. Bathroom. After. Cla.s.s. Tell. Me. Everything.

I know what will happen next. John showed it. And he died doing so. I would behave like a living corpse and no one would understand why. If I inform the police about these, what would they do? What did John do? What am I supposed to do? Is this what he felt when it happened to him? The sound of my heart thumping over and over again made me nauseous. It pounds my bosom, punching it until it leaves a hollowed mark in my chest, giving me these dreadful gooseb.u.mps.

I cried. I wanted to be famous. Not like this, not like this. For the first time, I mustered the courage to cry. Everybody in the cla.s.s saw me, my fake cla.s.smate comforted me.

I cried. The face I'm making is horrible and everyone could see it.

I cried. My whaling almost made me throw up.

My name is Margaux Stephanie Barnes. I am the president of the student council. John Smith is my polar opposite. However, John Smith and I are the same. I am dancing in the palm of an invisible force as did he. This is a problem for me, and no one seems to understand how serious this is.

I don't know what I was thinking, but I threw my phone to the ground, crush it with my feet. I can feel my sweat drip as I stomp on my already broken phone. As the cold dampness chills my nerves, hot pathos desecrates my body. Gla.s.s shards are all over the floor almost bruising me. The concerned whispers of those around me halt my movements. I shake as I see eyes piercing me with their looks of prejudice. Everybody saw me. They would talk about how crazy I was. People will call out my name! Wait, isn't this great? This means I am famous!

Margaux Stephanie Barnes, president!

Then I heard it. A snap, a flicker, it's so sudden but I am certain. That flickering rings in my ear. It came from the window, I'm sure. Then the whirring is now coming from every direction. I can feel it snapping and snapping and snapping and snapping over and over and over and over again everywhere! I hear it as if a requiem, a sorrowful serenade lures my sweet sanity away from my body. It's clicking from all around me, a spiteful symphony. The origin of the sound is reaching out to me, but I don't know where it is. Somehow it draws me towards it and rejects me at the same time!

I pressed my hands on my head as if I'm crus.h.i.+ng my brains out. My eyes are wide open like it's about to pop. I s.h.i.+ver in the noise of my cla.s.smate's murmurs. The distress of the moment makes me wrinkle my nose up. My lip stretched and curled up. The sounds of the flickering snaps made my eyebrows move up and down. Fear and disgust swallow my soul as I've come to terms with the sorrow of futility. Then I laugh with my tongue out, I can almost taste my tears.

Help me, please! Anyone! You! Yes, I'm talking to you! Can't you see me? Can't you hear my voice? Help me please I'm begging you to help me please you need to stop this I'm begging you with everything I can don't let what happened to John happen to me too please I beg you please I beg you please I beg you please I beg you please I beg you please I beg you!

"Nothing will happen if you keep whoring like that."

"John? I can't believe it! John Smith!? You're alive?"

"There are only three of us here now. Look around. The room is empty; isn't it convenient how you can just remove them like that so casually? I mean, COME ON, right?"

"You're not John, who are you?"

"I gotta say though, this body is just amazing! Strong, flexible, attractive; I can do a lot of great things with this body! Not to mention the memories I've got with it too, they're all amazing! So entertaining!"

"What is happening? This feels weird, who are you? What do you want? Why do you like John?"

"But your body in the other hand, it's better, it's just better! It's the best, magnificent; it's beautiful, how are you so beautiful? It is perfect! You're so perfect! This body is the best specimen ever! It never breaks, it never molds, I've never seen something quite like it before! You're a masterpiece! I want it!"

"Answer my question G.o.d f.u.c.king d.a.m.n it! Do I look like I'm joking? Who are you? What did you do with my cla.s.smates? Why do you look exactly like John!?"

"I a.s.sure you this will happen again. As much as I love this body there are so, so, so, so much more for me to see and to use and to just OH! Thinking about it just makes me UGH! This will happen again and believe me when I say you and your little circus party won't stop me. Sorry!"

"Jesus, f.u.c.king Christ, you even have John's mole on his neck. What kind of f.u.c.ked up s.h.i.+t are you pulling in my head right now? If you're trying to OD me let me tell you I'm-"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! It all doesn't matter! Soon this guy will expire who cares if I look like him now, I don't f.u.c.king care about him! But you, oh lady, your body is perfect! IT'S THE PERFECT FIT FOR ME! But I'll save you for last until I got all the fun in the world!"

"What are you going to do to me?"

"After this everything will be gone. This room, the chairs, the tables, the floor, the building, the terrain, the everything! And it will be just the two of us, not even that a.s.shole right there listening to our conversation can stop us!"

"Wait, you're still here? What are you doing here? Are you working with him? I can't believe you!"

"It doesn't matter! It will all be gone! It will be like a dream, I'll take you to a dream, but it's all real, it's going to be the best dream you'll ever have! And when you open your eyes our creation is going to be set in motion! And I a.s.sure you, Margaux Stephanie Barnes, that after this conversation no one will be bothering you! Absolutely no one will touch you, your body will remain undefiled forever in my care, and nothing could ever make that body mine other than me!"

"What are you doing? Get back! Get away from me! Get your f.u.c.king hands off my head!"

"And maybe we should change that name too. It's f.u.c.king awful! I will keep watching you and when the time comes for me to claim your body I will be there."

"STOP!"

"The world will change to our liking! We will delete the ugly ones if it needs to be!"

When I opened my eyes the only thing I can remember is the noise of gla.s.s cracking and the image of our walls disintegrating. Where am I?

"Oh, baby! You're back! You're back!" I hear my mother cry as she embraces me, pulling my entire body towards hers as tightly as she can.

I've been sleeping in this hospital for two months, apparently. Everybody says I collapsed, n.o.body knows what exactly was happening back then. They said it all happened too fast. All of them said the same thing: I went nuts, I screamed everywhere, I went out to the hallway, banged my head once on the bathroom walls; then, with my bloodied forehead, I went and chew a pamphlet from the garbage can, cried on a cramped dark alley, ran all over the hallways once again, and then finally collapsing in the student council office.

I cannot remember any of this from ever happening to me. I feel so blank, so empty like I'm a pot but all the water in me went past the boiling point and evaporated somewhere in the vast blue skies. It's all too scary to think about, but not for long. After a few weeks, I was permitted to leave the hospital and continue my already awfully late school life in my humble all-girls academy.

I went straight to the office as usual. I was welcomed by Lex, my secretary since the first day I was elected as student council president. I heard she did all the work for me while I was gone, though I appreciate what she has done for the committee I still feel bad she'd gone through all that because I was away. She's an extremely reliable secretary, I'm not afraid to say I am very proud for having her.

"Miss President here are the doc.u.ments you need to finish for today, I would also like to speak with you later about our recent success in bringing forth more trash bins throughout the campus."

"Good. Thank you. Are there any unrelated things I need to go through first before I proceed to the doc.u.ments?"

"None at all, president, if there will be one for today I'll bring it on the left side of your desk."

"Good. Thank you, you may leave now."

"Then I'll be leaving you now."

As Lex elegantly walks towards the exit a thought went through my head. "Lex?" I called out in a tone similar to that of the skies roaring thunderstorms to disturb the calm seas. "Can you say my name for me?"

"Your name? Um… Ashle-" She hesitated. "I'm sorry, Miss President but I am not permitted to do that in your office."

I snickered while reading and writing through numerous paperwork torturing me on my first day, "Good. Also, I change my mind. You may stay here and sit anywhere you like. I'm done with the doc.u.ments in a few minutes, wait for me instead. Let's go to cla.s.s together."

Lex's face fl.u.s.tered like a cherry popping beneath a spoon. "President I… thank you. We still have a lot of time before cla.s.s anyway."

I did not reply. I can see Lex skimming through books as I skim through boring and poorly written proposals and business letters. I stood up quietly after rejecting the final doc.u.ment. I walked past Lex who is already preparing her bag to leave alongside me. We walk in silence as the girls around us smile and whisper among themselves songs of praise and envy for our unrivaled beauty.

Until someone caught my attention.

"Who is that girl sitting by the oak tree?"

"Oh, her? I'm not sure too, really. She's the transfer student, she transferred while you're hospitalized, president. I think she's in your cla.s.s. She doesn't really stand out much."

I squinted my eyes and raised an eyebrow, "You don't say."

"To be honest, I wish I can talk to her sometimes. I think she needs counseling, the council might…" I think Lex continued speaking after this but I mostly filtered her words out of my brain as I a.n.a.lyze every bit of frame and information I can gather from her by staring at her till she drops.

The way he behaves like a living corpse makes it feel as if she truly is an undead creature disguised among us. I don't understand this transfer student. She doesn't seem to be the stupid type, and she doesn't appear to be bullied by anybody. In fact, most of the people around her seem to be trying to approach and befriend her. She avoids people for no clear reason as if we're transparent! She sits there by the oak tree, listening to other people pa.s.sing by, unmoving and mute.

One student in my cla.s.s is dead and it's bothering me.