Crimson Hues｜English｜PREVIEW

Chapter 02

13th of August, 1990

It was raining hard, and you can hear thunderclaps under the tenebrous heavens. At the stream cliff near your school, you were facing a teenage girl who was just in your age. Her silted uniform was stained with crimson wonders. Her jet-black hair was already looking heavily down for they were already soaked with rainwater. Her face was already pale, and you know that the rosiness of her lips already faded not a long time ago. She was sad, and her eyes were like melting sugar-spilts yet she was giving you the sweetest smile she could offer... for the last time.

'What happened to you, Emma?'

In the proceeding moment, you angrily cursed at her, with your hands getting away from her chest after a contact. Emma was grinning at you with blood slowly streaming from her gums to the very enamel of her teeth.

You just killed your best friend, and it was her despondent eyes that follow you around anytime you recall any part of your crime.

A loud call of your name made you jerk into your consciousness. You looked at the person, "Hey, Althea. Wake up."

It was Miranda Colis, the class president of Class 4. You looked at her with drooping eyes that take in every ray of light, and without a doubt, you know you've slept too short. The noises are of a night in full swing, crowded yet serene.

"The prayer is about to start," she told you, before giving you a calm smile.

Right. Tonight's the start of Emma's forty-day prayer, and despite being guilty of her unsolved death as everyone perceived, you still came for the sake of hiding your true composure. You mustn't let anyone spot out the indifference in you that might give them clues about your sin, because you are not just a traitor, you are a pretentious rabbit too.

It wasn't too long when the chapel members who are to lead the ceremony finally came, but before the ceremony could finally start, you simply excused yourself for you are still not ready to face your hypocrisy of good and evil while chanting the prayers that burns your true soul.

At the entrance where the scent of chrysanthemums still follows you, you stopped upon seeing Emma's mother organizing the edibles for visitors. Her lips were silent, but she was sniffing in her sobs. She already looked pale, and her eyes were noticeably darkened and deepened. Perhaps she still has not moved on from the death of her daughter that you murdered. You end up looking down and gulping upon feeling hunted by your own guilt. Then you asked yourself, 'When can I keep my sin a secret?'

You feel like you're getting killed by your own guilt yet you're a thick-face who wants to maintain your composure. So, you took a deep breath before pretentiously coming close to her as you already had decided to help her: a perfect way to kill your time away from chanting the prayers that you are trying to avoid.

"I'm sorry for your loss, auntie," you said with full of sadness. That made her look at you with all the ailing in her face: a likely expression of a mother who lost her own child.

"I wanted to protect her, but I failed. I wasn't able to protect her when it still wasn't too late. I'm sorry." Yes, because you killed her.

You too were sobbing, but this time, you are not certain whether the tears that well up at the side of your eyes were genuine or just another pair of your crocodile tears. You can't even look at her directly because of culpability, yet you managed to mask it as if it's because you're going to break down when you see her face. You were heartbroken, but behind it is your overwhelming guilt.