Flaw

Chapter 13: B

The sound of a zipper woke me up. My eyes felt like they had been glued together, but I saw the light slowly make its way as I was opened and freed from what smelled like a plastic prison. The light burned against my lids as if I was staring into the sun, and I was scared that if I ever found the strength to open it that I would be blinded by whatever awaited me.

I must have been out for a while because my throat felt arid and the air going down my throat felt hoarse. I felt a breeze touch my skin, and a small spot of slime running down my abdomen. I was naked. I was being marked, but why?

I peeped my eyes open ever so slightly and found myself looking at another human being in a white hazmat suit. The person breathed through a yellow safety mask, which made a loud puffing sound as they exhaled. The person did not yet realize that I was awake, and continued running a marker across my body, taking measurements as they went along.

The person was alone, but that could change, and I did not know what state my body was in to fight. ­­I parted my lips and tried to remember what happened. I remember running and being hurt and feeling extremely tired. I remember Jack and his betrayal, and a fog heading towards me, but not much more than that. I could not help but wonder what happened to Flaw. I felt a strong urge to find her – an urge so strong that it felt like she was close enough for me to grab onto.

My mind drifted, and I could feel myself falling into a dead sleep. Physically I was awake, but my brain was tired – so it did what it did best when I was under immense stress. It took me back to the past.

My thoughts found its way to my mom and that dream I had. I remembered her funeral, or memorial just as much as I did not want to. The morning of the funeral I was woken to a surprisingly sunny day. It was such a strange day, that I could hear the birds singing and the air whispering her name. I did not feel sad. I felt disbelieved. I felt cheerful. Most importantly, I felt envious of her.

When I arrived at the memorial hall, nobody even gave me condolences. How could they if they barely knew about me? I sat in front with a bunch of her coworkers that I had never even met. They all cried tears made of moss, and the preacher took center stage at the podium. He greeted us all with his windowed eyes and started to lay down the prophecies of his Lord. Then he started talking about my mom.

She was a child of the sun. She loved people as much as she loved her animals. She was a very cheerful person. These were all lies told by a person who was given a few notes by her colleagues – people who did not know the true her. She hated the outdoors. She didn't even own any animals, and even if you try and count that one time that we owned a fish it still wouldn't count because I was made to look after it. She was antisocial and serious. She only cared about her work, and she only cared about making me into her that she forgot about me.

I would be labelled a psychopath by the crowd gathered for her memorial for the rest of my life, because in the middle of the preacher's speech I started to laugh. Not hysterically enough for me to be taken away to a mental institute, but enough for everyone to pause their crying and look at me. I cleared my throat and gestured at the preacher to continue, which he then spun into a story of me being cheerful at the thought of her finding everlasting peace in heaven.

Afterwards, nobody spoke to me. I sat alone on one of the chairs in the hall and ate a spoonful of custard that I took from the buffet table. After all, isn't that why most people came to funerals, for the food?

The black dress that I wore was sent to me from my mother's superiors – Miguel King. It was too big for me and made me look rectangular. He also sent me a pair of matching black pair of heels, which hurt my ankles and made me walk like a deer fresh from the womb. The material felt soft and luxurious against my skin, but it felt like a dirty gift. A gift that was sent to me only because my mother was dead.