April 16, 2013

It’s a beautiful Tuesday morning when I woke up today. I saw a bird; I don’t know what kind of bird it was, but I was it wading through the quiet morning as I lay on my bed. I did not want to get off just yet. I looked at the infinite expanse of the blue skies hovering above me. Such is the happiness that sleeping next to a window brings unto me. Infinitesimal moments like this makes my day so much better. And everything that exists in the world feels beautiful again.

But my happy thoughts would instantly diminish once I leave the confines of my bed.

I remembered waking up early today. An hour earlier, to be more specific. It’s all because of Janine and how she kept yapping at Ivan again. It seems like, today, Monique is with Janine, throwing shit at Ivan together. Like mother, like daughter. Both of them say that Ivan is lazy, and all he does with his life is jack off, listen to garbage music, eat shit, worship the devil, and lie. I listened to the entire thing on my bed while I covered my ears with the edge of my pillow. This lasted for more than an hour. I know because I watched three episodes of Hunter X Hunter on my phone before Janine and Monique gave up their bullshit and left my older cousin alone. When I noticed that the commotion finally ended, I stepped out of my bed and went towards Ivan’s room to check him up if he’s doing better.

When I left my room, I saw Ivan sitting at the corner of the corridor right away, which almost made me shriek. It’s not that he surprised me or anything. I was just shocked by his appearance. He was ghastly pale, his eyes are riddled with reddened veins, the black halo circulating his eyeballs have also been relatively thicker than before, and it seems as if he had lost a significant amount of weight. All of this happened in just about two to three days. The effect of him leaving his group of debauched sex-craved maniacs has affected Ivan in such a way that it almost turned him into an unfamiliar person. 

Instead of supporting him, Janine had, instead, lashed out on him with the help of her equally obnoxious daughter. Ivan clearly needs immediate help, and I ran towards him right away after seeing the current state he’s in. I started screaming for help when I reached him. However, my older cousin immediately told me to stop.

Ivan asked me about my progress. He asked me if my uncle had already agreed with allowing him to return to Room 5010 again. I hugged him right away with a few droplets of tears in my eyes after hearing this. Ivan embraced me tightly in return. He asked me again if I told uncle about his request to which I affirmed that I did and that his father would definitely allow him to return to Room 5010 soon. Ivan plopped on the ground when he heard this, and shortly thereafter, tears began falling out of his wavering eyes. An enormous grin then appeared on his hauntingly thin face. I was very much sure that I will most definitely tell my uncle to revoke his decision in banning Ivan from approaching Room 5010, no matter how awful that place may be in my eyes. I will overlook everything that I know so far if it means that I will see this beautiful smile on my cousin again in every waking moment of my life.

Ivan told me he’s happy that I’m still here on his side. He also apologized for betraying me. I asked him what he meant by ‘betraying me.’ I already knew that Ivan thought he betrayed my trust for inviting me to Room 5010. I wanted to reassure him I didn’t feel betrayed by what he did. So I asked him to clarify his statement. It was my way of easing him in telling him he did nothing wrong. 

That was until I heard what he said next.

I still can’t believe Ivan did that to me.

Apparently, Sir Mark had ordered Ivan personally to invite me to their little gathering in Room 5010. I found nothing odd about the entire thing until I heard Ivan say that the only reason Sir Mark made him do this is that Sir Mark wanted to take something from me. Ivan told me that Sir Mark has ways of playing with a person’s brain to make them do everything he wants. According to my older cousin, Sir Mark tried to trick me into giving something to him. Notably, a specific golden cross. Ivan said that Sir Mark had been obsessed about getting this cross from me once he heard about it from his “sources.”

I don’t know how Sir Mark knew about this cross.

I don’t know why Sir Mark wants to take this cross.

And I don’t know how his sources knew about me possessing such a gold cross.

All I know for sure is that, indeed, my older cousin had betrayed me. I still do not know their reasons. What’s the deal with the golden cross, and why does my boss want it, and how did he know I had it?

I left Ivan wordlessly at the corner of the corridor as I returned to my room. I heard my older cousin yelling out my name as he sobbed on the ground before I closed my door shut. After a while, I heard him returning to his room by himself while still crying profusely. I feel so betrayed, but I also feel guilty, somehow. Ivan has nothing to do with this, and he’s just a victim like me. A victim of a group designed to torment and use him. I didn’t know what to feel. I am so conflicted. I wanted to be there for my cousin, but I also don’t know if I trust him. I feel sorry for him, and I want to always be there for him, but what he had unraveled to him has been awfully suspicious. I guess I can honor his honesty.

More than anything, why does Sir Mark want to get my golden cross? It’s not even made of genuine gold. It’s memorabilia that my mother has always carried with her, and one that she regarded with such high esteem. I remembered that my mother gave me that golden cross three days before she died. I always considered it as some coincidence, but now? Not anymore. I took that golden cross from the bottom of my bed. It was just an average golden-colored cross that is probably made initially out of stainless steel and is spray-painted into gold. It’s small. Small enough to fit in my fist but too big for me to swallow. It has a few macabre engravings on it, but unlike most crosses I’ve seen, there’s not an image of a deity or any sort of a religious symbol on it. It’s just an odd metallic trinket that my mother really liked when she was still alive. I have never spoken about this cross to anyone, and I have never written about this in my journal. It’s just that this cross feels so irrelevant to me. The only reason I’m keeping it is that my mom asked me to keep it safe before she died. It has that sort of sentimental value to me. Other than that, this thing is nothing but a junk. Why would anyone ever know about the existence of this cross? Why would anyone ever want to have this useless thing? It makes little sense to me. I looked around it and checked if there is anything remarkable about it, but there’s just none! It’s only a treasure for me because it’s a treasure for my mother. Perhaps Sir Mark thought it was real gold? It made no sense. With that in mind, I just sighed it off and threw it back at the bottom of my bed for safekeeping.