In Time

-Twenty-

8 April 2017, Saturday

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'Turn right, forty metres ahead," I followed the GPS on my phone. I passed units upon units of terrace houses, before reaching the 200 series. Should be reaching anytime soon. A five storey bungalow came into sight after I made a right turn. It stood out among the other lower levelled houses in stark contrast; it had a modern interior design, with glass panels on the balconies and alternating grey and white washed walls, with a swimming pool in its spacious backyard. Yes, it was 203 Crestwood Circle.

I pulled over outside the unit, spotting a petite woman with greying hair fussing over Diana as she got ready. Diana's features were almost a replica of the woman's; she had to be Diana's mother. I grabbed my crutches from the backseat and got off the car.

"Anna, who's this boy? Oh my, what happened to him?" her mother widened her eyes upon noticing the void in my left trouser leg.

I sighed, part of me cringing internally at the question.

"Ma, he's my friend. And he's an amputee," Diana stated simply as she climbed into the front seat.

"Oh my! An amputee at his age? How unfortunate!" she acknowledged. "It's such a pity though, he's looks so well..."

"Ma, stop it! He's perfectly well!" Diana interjected, gesturing for me to get back into the driver's seat. "We're in a rush, bye!" she shouted before signalling for me to drive off.

I set the vehicle into gear before stepping on the accelerator and the engine roared back to life, seeing the mansion diminish in size from the rear mirror as I drove off.

"Hope you don't mind Ma, she can be a little insensitive at times," Diana strapped on her seat belt. "Oh wow, your clutch pedal is modified for hand control? That's so cool!" she cooed at the extra lever I had at the driver's seat.

"Yeah, I wouldn't trust myself to step on a pedal that I can't feel. I could do away with that metallic squeaky sound though," I chuckled. "Are you okay with classical music? It's Czardas right now, by Vittorio Monti."

"Yeah. You sure do know your stuff," she nodded, impressed, before proceeding to doff her denim jacket.

"Is it getting hot in here?" I readied my hand on the knob for the air conditioner.

"Don't worry, it's not that. I just don't want Ma to see my arms, y'know. She'll bombard me with lots of questions," Diana admitted.

"I understand." I kept my eyes on the road, making a turn for the expressway.

The slow violin solo played in the background.

She drew in a breath before breaking the silence. 

"I don't know when I started, but I thought it was just a one-time thing back then. I had a lot of feelings bottled up and I felt like exploding," her voice cracked. "For a long time, the feelings didn't seem real. It was as if everything was just in my head and that I was making everything up."

She paused. "So I cut. And it helped, because the physical pain distracted me."

I nodded.

"And it was easier to deal with physical pain, you know what I mean? Since it's visible and you know you're not just making things up in your mind. I was afraid that I was going crazy," she forced a laugh.

"Yes I know what you mean. Sometimes I'm also afraid that I'm going crazy," I checked the blind spots.

I saw Diana smile from the reflection in the front mirror. "It felt good, like an outlet to release everything. Until I realised that I couldn't stop. I was addicted. Yet for some twisted reason, I was satisfied. Because with the cuts, no one can accuse you of being dramatic or attention-seeking anymore. They just made everything more real."