Warning: Slippery Surface

author's note: the continuation of 'warning: fire hazard'

___________________________

People only pay attention to those who are special.

I was used to being unnoticed. Passing by people and have them barely look at me. Why would they? I had no part to play in their lives. And to be honest, I was happy that way. I had my own friends, minded my own business.

When things happen and you're too young to understand them, you tend to be carried away with what's visible to you instead of fully understanding the deeper layers behind them.

I wish I knew it then, back when I wasn't special.

* * *

'Disease-spreading Defunct Caught’.

Imran was too lazy to read newspapers, except for when Anthony forced him to just because he managed to sneak his way into an article which praised the government’s efforts to support them. But his eyes caught the headline of today’s front page.

“Finally."

“It’s getting scarier! So glad we live here where everything’s more contained--”

“They need to weed out the bad ones first to keep us safe.”

“Did you hear about them re-opening the train stops to enter the city? That’ll make it even worse.”  

The reader put the newspaper aside before Imran could lean over to read more. He quickly turned away as if nothing happened, opening his mouth to say something to Anthony but the boy had dozed off.

They reached the station Imran was supposed to alight and, unfortunately, the two people next to him also stood up to leave. It was awkward and he would rather remain unnoticed, so Imran waited until they had at least stepped out of the train.

He wanted to wake Anthony up to remind him that he had two stops left to go, but he knew he had to rush out before the doors closed.

He didn’t see Anthony opening his eyes and picking up the newspaper that was left behind.

* * *

“45% for Add Maths, seriously?”

Anthony managed a sheepish smile, rubbing his nose. “That’s not too bad. At least I didn’t fail.”

His older sister put his test paper away where his niece could reach out for it, crumpling the edges with her tiny hands, ready to put it in her mouth. Gently, he uncurled her fingers to take the paper away. “That’s not food.” As if a three year old could understand him.

“How to get a scholarship like this?”

“They’ll pay for me.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve done a lot for them,” Anthony simply said, and it was a statement that his sister could never argue with because it was the truth.

“Your face is all flushed,” his sister pointed out, palm extended to feel his forehead. Something his mother used to do when he was little. “Eh, demam!” He already knew he had a fever.  

Anthony playfully swatted her hand away. “Gajie, I’m fine, stop worrying. They gave me medicine.”

He knew she wouldn’t, as usual.

That night, Anthony found himself lying on his bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, his revision books laid open on his desk. He couldn’t sleep; he hadn’t been able to for a few days now. His arm rested almost carelessly on the newspaper he had taken from the train. He took it so that he could prove to himself that he has moved on from what had happened.

The scream that followed when a giant ball of water had imprisoned the mother, knocking her out just before her lungs were crushed. He wasn’t allowed to kill, after all. The pleadings of the young girl, trying to tell him that her mother was harmless, that they would come willingly, so please stop, stop it right now.

It was a job well done, though no one would know who was behind it.

He shut his eyes tight as he plunged himself into the depths of guilt.