Silence
“Sometimes I simply couldn’t understand why you’re so obsessed with that Victor guy, Charlotte.” The repetitive dialing sound and its subsequent cut dissolve into the space distinctively, while she still continuously rings the mobile nonetheless. “He’s okay. He’s gotten into a university while working diligently. Although the circumstance is undoubtedly messed up, that’s out of our capability. We’re psychiatrists, not wizards.” Charlotte sighs a little while putting the mobile onto the desk. She understands that this continuous calling is not progressing. “The point I’m indicating is that he is completely okay and the file should be concluded.”
“Victor, two carbonara spaghetti and four chicken satay salads.” Various kinds of pans whose surfaces are either seriously burnt or decimated are firing ferally above the ferocious stove. “Where the fuck is the guanciale! We were out of spaghetti 15 minutes back!” I mix the ingredients rapidly for the sauce while I tend to the chicken for its doneness. Suddenly, a maid dressed in a vibrant outfit walks across the kitchen before colliding into my hands and causing the sauce to splash onto the dirty ground. “Fuck!” My hand is knocked onto the blazing fire of the stove. “Why the fuck would you come in here! Get the fuck out of here, you massive piece of useless shit!”
The back alley connected to the place is tranquil and soundless when the night arrives and surrounds the world silently. I sit powerlessly on the ground while caressing the burning mark. “Truly a turmoil, isn’t it?” A maid dressed in a different outfit, which is also stylish and embellished in black lace, speaks softly, gently sitting beside me. “I’m Grace. Sorry, that one is a little unhandy. ” I nod out of politeness. “Victor.” I sigh deeply, as if to exhale every ounce of powerlessness out. “It’s alright. Definitely not an innovative experience to be burnt in a kitchen.” She thus smiles slightly. “Yeah? Like a Tuesday for you? What was the last time like?” I caress different marks of my wounds silently, as if to trail the devastating past. “Last time, the stove broke down and caused a massive fire in the previous restaurant. Surprisingly, I didn’t panic or rush to remedy the circumstances. I simply watch it burn ferociously. A section of my mind couldn’t help but aspire that… if it continued, it would burn down every piece of my life completely.” Grace pauses for a moment before asking frailly, “Then you switch it off, right?”
I smile slightly, speaking softly, “Yeah, then you switch it off.”
“If it were you, your sister would be dead because of suicide, everyone around you passed away in simply a month before. How the heck could an individual behave as if it never happened?” Charlotte exclaims. “There’s no point in discussing this. You can’t comprehend this guy like this. He is weird, utterly.”
I sit silently while tending to the pigments retrieved in Olivia’s apartment. The brush lying on the ground is in a terrible condition that it has splayed bristles, and the ferrule is more or less bending. Various pieces of abolished paper are scattered on the ground as if it is the place where they should be, the landfill. The outcome is always disappointing no matter the effort I put in. I get off to take a can of coke and gulp down the entirety of it. Suddenly, a ringtone disturbs me out of nowhere. “Hey, it’s Roxy speaking here. I’m simply asking if you would be available tomorrow cause I’d like to have people over for a lovely party.” Her voice is excited and vigorous. “Like an intimate and little one? Sure.” I sit tiredly on the broken couch, drowning in its numbing softness. “Good night, Victor. See you tomorrow?”
I find Roxy difficult and messy to talk to. There is someone who lives in a world where the notion I must resist on a daily basis is simply a forward word described in a glossary. Sometimes it’s not simply about characteristics. However, the origin of it.
Morning, I spend the entirety of it finishing assignments. The sound of a pencil scratching on a piece of paper occurs and disappears occasionally. Though the lines of the pencil already ruined every section of the paper, there is still not a matter to be presented on it. “It’s alright. I’ll simply take a rest for a while.” I comfort myself…before fiercely smashing the easel onto the ground. I could sense the sentiment was on the verge of the ultimate outburst. It accumulates and piles up deep within for almost an eternity and requires simply a moment to explode. Hence, I stop. I gulp down the messy object into my stomach, the abyss of it. “It’s alright.” I remind myself. “It’s alright.”
Suddenly, a doorbell interrupts the silent meltdown. I hide the broken easel somewhere in the bedroom before responding to it. “Mr. Victor Blane. What a lovely apartment.” The one who appeared surprised me profoundly. “Dr. Charlotte Sinclair? What…” Her irritation is so tangible that even the friendly smiles she puts up look lethal. “Absence for multiple sessions and providing an incorrect contact to me. What a delinquent, Victor. Do you even understand the effort I put into trailing you?” Although the shock still lingers, the words come out of my mouth instinctively. “I’m sorry. Still, that’s a little creepy, isn’t it?” She exclaims, “Do not even try to talk about the unnecessary details to avoid the core of the issue! I’ve reported your file to Blackwood University and received permission for your obligatory psychiatrist session, or you’ll be expelled!” I’m truly in shock. “What the hell? How could you reveal my file as if it won’t cause trouble? What is the fucking matter going on inside your mind? I thought YOU were the psychiatrist. ” Charotte continues to smile confidently as if the condition is under control. “I guess that you’re not fit for that kind of treatment, Victor. You’re the only one who truly understands the inherence of yours. I must levitate.” I sigh, realizing that there’s nothing that I could do to restore the circumstance.
“You’re trying to quit. And I’m not letting you.” She makes the gesture of “I’m always inspecting you” on the way out.
This massive mansion, in which there’s a colossal garden adorned with blossoming florets, appears to be Roxy’s place. Although I check the provided address multiple times, the result remains despite the shock. The fountains were carved in incredible sculptures and smiled aesthetically under the illumination of the moon, something that would only appear in a hallucination for me. “Victor! You’ve arrived. Please come in here. Almost everyone has arrived.” Roxy speaks vigorously, the dyed pink hair swinging as if to match the tireless vibe. “This is a massive mansion,” I say. She guides me deeper into this forever gigantic labyrinth. “That’s what I said when my parents acquired it. It’s so hard to maintain.” “How’s your relationship with your parents? You guys on the good side?” She smiles mischievously. “Suddenly become so talkative, Victor. You’re not mesmerized by my allure already? Come on, I’m ready for a confession.” I remain silent since I don’t possess an accurate response for this stupid question. “That’s a joke, and you should simply laugh. Oh, Victor. What a stiff guy.” The silence continues as if that’s the only accurate outcome under this circumstance. “We spend quite a tremendous amount of time on a daily basis, and they support me in studying arts despite their initial supposition. I believe it’s my ultimate purpose in the first place. Though there’s someone who I used to be in touch with who displayed talent and brilliance that I couldn’t accomplish, not in my entire life. Still, I could obtain peace in the end.” She smiles softly.
“I understand some parts of it. I believe.” Roxy takes a soft grip onto my hand before entering the place. “There must be something worth living for in this world. No one could survive if this notion were abandoned in his life.” Her smile is frail and powerless, as if something is mustering up inside.