The Empty Room

By Jonell B. Estillore

Second Year, BSIT

My eyes were already sore. I had been looking at the computer screen for almost five hours straight. Basically, I did nothing but look for things on the net that could distract me. I felt the excruciating pain so I decided to close my eyes for a couple of minutes.

Had I not closed my eyes, I wasn’t succumbed to painting his figure back to my mind. His hair, his temple, his eyes, his nose, his lips, his cheeks, his jaw–all of his facial features were still etched in my memory. Little was my capability of forgetting how he looks so I just immediately opened my eyes and slapped my face. Twice. Then another time. I was brought back to reality by the annoying sound of a buzz coming from someone in my instant messenger.

I had to remind myself that I was invisible, meaning, people on my list can’t see me as online; the buzzer appeared to be someone who knew I was home.

As expected, it was James.

Another buzz vibrated my desk. It was abruptly followed by a message.

JAMES: I know ur der.

Why did I go online in the first place, I mumbled to myself. “Fuck off. I am not in front of my PC for you. Get rid of me, retard.”

I closed the open browser and the messenger. With a slight reluctance, I shut the computer down and pulled the connections from my router. I lay on my bed and tried to calm myself.

My room was empty and gloomy. It shared most of my sentiments; it was the projector of my mood. For a while, the atmosphere cleared my mind, but let me reiterate that is was just for a while. The next second, I was yet again thinking of him. This time, it was all about his laughter. His cool voice reverberated from my neurons to my senses. It was as if he was just lying beside me. It was just like how things went a few days ago.

Much to my eagerness not to remember that moment, I couldn’t help but to drain the tears that were very excited to come to the open. Just two days ago, he was here with me. I was in this same position of lying.

Was I lying then when I told him that I love him? I don’t think so. From the very beginning of our relationship, I never lied to him, because I believe that honesty is the cornerstone of a strong affair next to love. I was pretty much honest more than I ever was in my entire life. Not until that night. Not until that very moment I spent with him for the last time.

I was about to reach out for the lamp to turn it off, but in that exact second, the telephone beside it rang. It was louder than the buzz on the messenger. I was frozen. I looked at it and thought about picking it up.

I was sure it was him so I helped myself on standing up. I pulled its cord from the wall socket.

No more ringing. No more intensified nervousness.

I sat on the side of my bed and recollected my thoughts. I noticed the wall clock in front of me. It claimed that it was already eleven o’clock in the evening. How much time do I need, I asked myself.

I waited for an answer but I received none. Neither my guardian angel nor my guardian devil took advantage of the situation. I just sat there, seemingly waiting for something to happen.

I knew he will never stop until he gets in touch with me again. Well, literally. For a fraction of a millisecond, I thought of feeling his warm embrace and savoring his kisses on my lips. I wished it could happen again, but when I came up into the idea that I was just fantasizing, I once again slapped my face.

It hurt. It was as painful as how his words shattered my being.

I began to cry again. This time, I was sobbing, loudly.

After a while, I was hearing a banging on the door to my room. A screeching voice sent shivers down my spine.

“James is here,” cried my housemate whose age was just like mine. “Aren’t you two gonna talk? Even just for a while?”

She was the only person next to my best buddy, who happened to be a straight guy, who knew me very well and knew every chapter of the James-and-me love story. I had been listening to her, but, suddenly, not this time.

I just let her continue her whining. I sat motionlessly and tried to put an end on my crying.

I weighed the matter. If I will open the door and run towards James, it would look like it was my own fault. I shrugged that off. I decided to stay on my room and absorb the aggravating loneliness revolving it.

“Get out now!” She was almost begging. Her voice wanted me out but my heart was telling me to keep the silence.

“Please!”

I kept my silence as much as I can, but as half-past-eleven approached, I felt like nobody was outside my room anymore. I began to be frightened–not because of the silence but because of the fact that I am alone in our house. I forced my ears to listen to the sound of the open television on the living room but I caught none. I sought the usual music coming from my immediate neighbor and even tried to hear the barking of their irritating askal (Filipino term for astray domestic dog) but there was no single “aw!”.

I stayed inside my room for the next thirty minutes. The silence grew deeper. My other senses beside hearing were useless. Am I blind? Am I deaf? Am I numb? What else am I or am I not? I was no longer sure about so many things.

Good thing we don’t own any odd-looking grandfather’s clock or else I will be petrified, faint and find myself waking up in a hospital.

Then there was a loud scream. It rattled me.

I faced my fear, or however you want to call that emotion. I opened my door and got out of my room. I was running, terrified. The lights were out. My housemate was nowhere to find. I was shouting her name again and again but she was not responding. Perhaps she was out. But she never goes out at this time. She never did, or could this be the first time?

I turned on the lights and observed the living room. Everything appeared to me to be fine. Was it really fine? No, it was not. Lying on the sofa was a masculine figure, so familiar to me that I wasn’t able to refuse his existence.

His look was a tad disturbing. His eyes were not the same as before. His smile was catapulted to Hades. His facial features were no longer my business.

“I’ve been waiting for you for so long today. Why are you doing this to me?”

I did not speak a word.

“Lie with me. I’ve been waiting.”

I still did not speak.

“I said lie with me!”

His shout shook me. “Just forget me, James. It’s all I am asking.”

“Lie with me, that’s what I’m asking.”

Magnetically, I approached him, but I did not do what he want me to do.

“Where is Shiela?”

“Out.”

“Where is she?”

He grinned. “Lie with me. Here. And you’ll know where she is.”

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing. I said she’s out. She can’t stand your attitude any longer. She said she’s leaving.”

“She can’t do that,” I pointed out. “You should be the one doing that now.”

“No way.”

“I don’t love you.”

“I know.”

“But then, why are you pushing yourself to me this much? I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to,” he quickly said.

My thoughts were back to Shiela. “Tell me where she is.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

He stood up and grabbed me on the collar. “Do you really want to know?” He was almost hissing. His breath used to calm me, but this time, it scared me to death. I chanced to look at his eyes and saw its redness. I closed mine and he began to whisper things I wasn’t able to fathom. However, I caught the last of his words telling me how much he loved me and how bad it could be for him to lose me.

He let go of me and pulled me toward him. His embrace was more than enough for me to realize that he was no longer the James I loved. He was someone else. Someone out of his norms.

From his behind, a shadow moved forward. It grabbed something and hit that on his head. That thing broke. A vase!

As James was down, I heard a monotonous voice of a girl. It was Shiela’s. “She taped my mouth.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with this stupid jerk.” Then she kicked him. “Let’s get him out of here.”

The two of us cooperated on dragging his fainted body to the door. There was blood, but I did not care. The marble floor turned scarlet.

“Is this really James?” An almost rhetorical question.

I opened the door and asked her to open the lights. I pushed James’ body to the porch.

“Gotcha!”

He reached my left leg, stood up and pulled me away from the house, grabbing me with his firm arms.

“Shiel–” I was halfway calling her attention when he covered his right hand on my mouth. Alert, she noticed I was gone and went out of the house. She saw me being hurdled toward his car but she just stayed on the porch fixated.

I gave my best shot on getting rid of him but he was stronger. On the next blink of my eye, I was locked inside his car.

He droved really fast. He was furious and speechless. I was waiting for a demand, for something to be dealt about but he just went on his releasing of angst. His driving sped up.

I impatiently waited for something to happen. I knew I can’t object that time so I opted not to utter any sound.

“Why are you leaving me?”

I felt the sincerity on his tone. Well, somehow, I truly did. But then again, a stream of my mind reminded me that he was mad and believing him when he was so is ridiculous.

“I don’t love you, James. This is so wrong. Why can’t you understand that?”

I was touched by his emotion. He was deeply sad.

“Please bring me back home.”

I believed he was crying as he unexpectedly made a U-turn. He brought me back home as I requested.

Before letting me go, I took the utmost courage of hugging him. Even for the last time.

“I loved you once,” I cried.

I stepped out of his car. I looked back to he his expression but his face was down. I went back inside the house and found Shiela worried.

“I thought you will be in danger,” she confessed, and then she wrapped her arms around me.

“I can’t afford losing you. I can’t.”

She looked me in the eyes. It was as though she was putting a spell on me. Right then, she reached my lips to kiss me.

It was a long kiss.

I released first.

“I love you,” she told me.

BANG.

What was that? I looked at my back. James was holding a gun.

A gun?

BANG.

The bullet hit me. Right through my chest.

I reached out my hand for help.

BANG!

My eyes poorly visioned the splatters on the wall. More blood gushed out of James’ head.

My eyes were already sore. I had been looking at two dead bodies inside the same room for nearly five seconds. Basically, I did nothing but look for things that could distract me. I felt the excruciating pain so I decided to close my eyes. And that was forever.

 

March 28th, 2009 by paurong Paurong is an 18-year old BSIT sophomore student who loves to think, act, and talk in vacuum.