THURSDAY, 15 January

Sunoo loved stories since he was a kid. His mother always told him the most wonderful ones. She was a story-teller, one of the best Sunoo ever met. So, when she died, Sunoo became one of the best story-makers as a way of cherishing his mother for the rest of his life. He lived with his grandmother: a dainty woman, equally as into dramatics as her grandson. An actress.

Sunoo knew how to lie, he spent almost his entire life acting as people who weren't himself. A war orphan, a boy who loved to get into trouble, a teenager who had a tragic curse put on him, and a young adult who fell in love for the first time. Those were just some of the roles Sunoo played over the years. He was in the shoes of theater characters more than in the comfort of his own ones.

"Why are you staring at them so hard?" A body shifted near Sunoo, settling down next to him on the bench.

"Mona." He gave his new side partner a tight smile. "Lovely to see you."

"Great to see you too." She chuckled, taking out a notepad and pen from her bag. "But you still haven't answered my question. What's so great about Thomas and Inaya at each other's throats? As per usual too." Mona added the last part with a roll of her eyes.

Sunoo's eyes narrowed. He looked more like a fox than ever with his ember irises glinting through the small gaps. "They're intriguing. Like a story about to unfold."

Mona frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Just look at them." Sunoo nodded in the direction of Thomas and Inaya, who were in a heated argument under the shade of a tall tree. "Really look at them."

Mona stared, for a long time. But she couldn't grasp what Sunoo did. She had a talent for writing performances, not acknowledging them the way Sunoo did. "I don't see anything. They're always like this, aren't they?"

"Yes, but that's not the point." Sunoo explained. "I'm not talking about them, but what's between them."

"I don't know."  Mona's scowl deepened. "Fucking empty air, maybe?"

Sunoo rolled his eyes, grimacing. God, this girl had no eye for art. "Never mind."

"Well, whatever it is, do you think it's good enough to put in the Spill?"

Mona's remark made Sunoo turn his head to her again. "No. You don't really get it, do you? They're not a story in the making. They've yet to unravel."

To Mona, it was like Sunoo was speaking in tongues. A riddle far beyond her to figure out. Cryptic messages that her mind was too blunt for. She stood up, grabbing her belongings, and tucking them under her arms. "Well, have fun watching those two for however long it is they can keep it up for." Mona stared into the distance, placing her hand to her forehead to block the sun from her sensitive eyes. "Looks like they're still going strong for now."

Sunoo bid his friend a short goodbye, before turning his attention away from everything and to the script of Romeo and Juliet in his hands. His mind drifted to Thomas and Inaya for a split second. 

"Wonder how long it'll take them." Sunoo murmured under his breath.

***

Jake arrived home earlier. The last hour of his day was a free period and he didn't feel the need to stay in school longer than he was due. The door to his house creaked open. An emptiness hung around the house, as if it was vacant. Jake stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. It echoed in the empty hallway.

Nothing.

Jake smiled, grabbing a hold of the girl that he brought with him.

"No one's here?" She asked.

Jake brushed a loose strand of brown hair away from her eyes. "No." He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, his hands cupping her face. He smiled from cheek to cheek. "Let's go upstairs."

When he came back downstairs, the evening was well done and dusted. It was pitch black outside. And the girl left ages ago. Jake trotted inside his kitchen, looking around for something to eat. He assumed his mom wasn't back from work yet.

"Jake."

The sudden noise made him jump in surprise. He looked behind his shoulder to see his mom standing by the door. She wore a knee-length blazer dress, that was as black as the abyss in her eyes. Her neck was decorated with chunky diamonds. Her hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail, tassels of thick hair falling like a waterfall down her back. She had the purest white skin, the stark boldness of her red lips contrasting perfectly. Jake's mother was breath-taking.

"Mom." He stepped closer, greeting her. "I didn't realise you were back."

"Is that why you were careless enough to bring a girl over to my house?" The tone of her voice was like stone, cold and hard. Much like the rest of her face which was sharp lines and more bones than meat.

Jake's face dropped. "I-"

The sound of skin meeting skin shrieked in the air. Jake held his cheek to his hand.

Mrs. Sim took in a deep breath, clasping her hands in front of her. It was distressing how beautiful she looked on the outside, and how wretched she truly was on the inside. She could fool anyone with the mere flash of her pretty face.

"Dante." She called out behind her.

A young man, dressed in an all black ensemble appeared in the kitchen. He was a tanned Hispanic, with wavy brown hair and calculated eyes. Dante was tall, with muscles built like bricks. Jake knew this man very well. He was the family bodyguard for almost a decade now.

Mrs. Sim cleared her throat. "Take him to the basement."

With one syrupy instruction, Jake was being escorted to the lower ends of his house by Dante. His mother was curtly leading them in front.

Dante lowered his head, so that it was by the top of Jake's left side. "What did you do this time young master?"

Jake kept his head down, jaw setting in place. "Brought a girl whilst she was here."

"Ahh." Dante nodded, pulling his head up again. He patted Jake's shoulder. "I'm sorry for what is to happen next."

They stopped in front of a door, Dante rushing forwards to open it. He gestured for Mrs. Sim to walk in. Jake trailed behind. Dante stared at him in sympathy.

"Don't look at me like I'm some weak prick, Dante." Jake gritted through his teeth when he felt those pitiful eyes on him. "You know how much I dislike it."

Dante sighed. "Very well, young master." He ordered Jake to stand in the middle of the stone room they were in.

Jake obeyed. He stopped where he was directed to, waiting for the next instructions.

"Take off your shirt, Jake." His mother's cold command made his guts convulse in dread. He hated this punishment.

Mrs. Sim nodded at Dante, who emerged from a nearby corner holding a long piece of thick leather that looked like a belt.

"How many?" Dante asked the older woman.

"However many it takes for my message sinks in."

That was all Dante was left with. He made his way to Jake, standing a few steps behind him. Jake braced himself, ready for the blows.

The first one always hurts the most, because you never know when to expect it. Jake bit his tongue back, his eyes squeezing shut. He could already taste metallic blood. His fingers were driven into his white palms, turning his entire hands red within seconds. The next blow sent him flying forwards. Fucking hell, they hurt.

Then, Jake thought about dying for it seemed better than this. He hated his mother so much. He lost count of how many whips he's received, but whatever ump-teenth time this was, it caused him to let out a guttural groan, making him fall to his knees.

But it didn't stop. Not even when blood was dripping down his back and forming a thin pool of red around him. His skin felt like it was being scorched off him.

He gathered up the tiniest bit of energy to look up at his mother. Her face was expressionless, not even flinching when the loud sound of the whip cracked in the echoing air or even when her own son let out shouts of pain. Jake stared straight into her eyes, but there was nothing.

God, there was nothing.

His cheeks streaked with tears; his eyes bloodshot with a hundred agonies.

Mrs. Sim blinked at him, inhaling sharply. The side of her lips dared to raise upwards ever so slightly. Jake thought about how she looked like a gateway to his hell; the opening to his eternal damnation. She was so evil in his eyes that it would have been easier for him to have asked for the devil's mercy over hers.

Jake let out a choked sob. A dull pain shook through his head, knocking the air out of him. His body gave up on him, and he was falling.

Down.
                     Down.
                                           Down.

***

Riki couldn't stop thinking about that tempting offer. Especially not when he was finding it so difficult to conjure up a spark in his brain that would allow him to go forward with his work. He was having an artist's block as he liked to call it. Riki let out an exasperated groan, burying his face into the sleeves of his maroon sweater. He wiped his eyes, blinking furiously.

Time to find her, he thought.

She could be anywhere on campus. Riki already deduced that. So he did what he thought was most sensible; go and ask the principal for some guidance. He didn't want to look like some lost puppy wandering around the school, helplessly in search of a woman who he'd only met once.

He reached the door with the golden plaque. On it was inscribed the name of the lean, mean principal, Joseph Hill.

Riki knocked.

"Come in."

Riki twisted the brass knob, unlocking the closed door. He caught a waft of black coffee when he stepped in.

The principal peered over from his newspaper.  "Oh, Mr. Nishimura? To what do I owe you the pleasure of?"

"The Stanford art student." Riki closed the door behind him. "I'm looking for her."

Mr. Hill's eyebrows cocked up, and he folded up his newspaper, setting it on his desk. He wheeled his chair closer to the desk, pursing his thin lips together. "Miss Huxley, right?"

Riki's eyes lit up at the name. "Yes, her."

"She's in the dorm I picked out for her." Mr. Hill explained.

"Could you tell me where it is? I want to speak to her." Riki insisted.

"I'm guessing it's about the offer she proposed to you." Mr. Hill drawled out; a hint of something in his voice that Riki could not decipher.

"Yes."

"Is it going to be a yes or a no."

Riki frowned. "A yes."

A brief moment of silence where Mr. Hill's eyes slightly narrowed. But then he clapped his hand, leaning back on his chair. "That is fantastic news, Mr. Nishimura. I was hoping you'd accept."

"Now, could you tell me where her room is?" Riki was getting impatient.

"Yes." Mr. Hill clicked his tongue. "Room 27 in the Accommodations Building."

"Thanks." Riki bowed his head slightly, rushing out of the room. He gently closed the door to the office behind him with a small click.

He was off in an instance, rushing outside to make his way to the conjoined building of the school that was used for the sole purpose of providing dorms for students that lived on campus. Room 27 would have to be on the first floor.

Riki approached the stairs, at the back, taking long strides up until he finally arrived onto the corridor where room 27 was located. The ceilings of this floor were painted a clad-white and everything was kept minimal. There were only a few small tables with vases filled to the brim with fresh wild flowers, and a couple of pictures of scenery hung up. Riki walked through the corridor, looking left and right.

Room 19, Room 23, Room 25, Room 27. He found it.

It was a tall navy blue door Riki stood in front of, polished so cleanly that he could see his reflections on it. He knocked once. Twice.

After the second, the door unlocked, revealing Seraphina. She was dressed in a simple yellow dress, her hair untied and framing her face all around. Her eyes widened when she processed who was standing at her door and she cracked open the door a little wider when she recognised her visitor. "Nishimura Riki."

He gave her a closed-mouthed smile. "Yes, that's me."

Seraphina crossed her arms, leaning herself against the side of the door frame. She took a second before saying, "You've come back to me a lot quicker than expected."

"I've made up my mind." Riki stated. He didn't miss the way Seraphina's mouth formed the slightest smirk.

"Well?"

"It's a yes." Riki confirmed.

Seraphina laughed. "I am glad to hear it."

Blinking quietness hung in the air. Riki rocked on his feet. Seraphina kept her eyes on him. Why did her eyes always glitter like that? Riki asked himself in his ind. He cleared his throat loudly.

"So, where do we go from here?"

Seraphina uncrossed her arms and stood up straight. She brushed down a crinkle on her skirt. "I would've asked you to come in, but it's a bit of a mess right now. And I haven't even taken out all my art pieces either, so I suppose I'll have to invite you back another time to take a look."

Riki nodded. "That's fine."

Then there was that silence again.

"Can you give me your phone?" Seraphina suddenly asked. She held back a laugh when catching the expression on Riki's face. "So that I can put in my number for you."

Riki's mouth formed an 'o' shape. He quickly drew out his phone from his pockets and handed it to her. He watched Seraphina's long, thin fingers, that sort of resembled sticks, press in the numbers of her phone. When she was done, she passed it back to him.

"There. I'll message you when I need to see you."

Riki scratched the back of his head, looking around. "So, that's it then?"

"Yes." Seraphina took a step back into her dorm. "You are free to go now. It was lovely seeing you." She offered him one last smile, before closing the door in his face.

Riki let out a long breath. How long was he holding that in for? He stared at the blue door, familiarising himself with all the patterns and marks on it. He was brought back to reality when his phone pinged.

Oh shit. He didn't tidy up his mess at the studio. And it was time for someone else to use it. He rushed back out of the living quarters.