‘Are you bored, Jacob?’ Jonathan asked, holding his baby brother closer to his chest. He felt his tuxedo tighter when Jacob grasped his shoulders intimately – an action that only Jonathon can enjoy. Jacob doesn’t like hugging Mum and Dad.

​

Jacob murmured something indistinguishable to his ear, his soft voice nothing more than a slight muffle, like a footstep in the thick snow.

​

‘Weddings are the worst, aren’t they?’ Jonathon walked over to the large door to the balcony, the vibrant city lights flashing along the urban forest. Up close, their reflections peered back, eyes glancing long and hard, as if secrets could be whispered wordlessly through the soundless eye contact. Jacob moved a small hand towards his reflection, curious and puzzled. His brother took his hand and guided him to his mirror image. ‘That’s you, Jacob.’

​

‘There you are, my two darlings.’ A voice found its way to the two brothers, and Jonathon almost jumped at the sudden interruption. ‘Jacob really likes having you around, doesn’t he?’

​

There was a certain amount of bitterness in Mum’s voice, although it was cleverly hidden within her seemingly light-hearted language. The white mask covering her true face – an assortment of flesh jumbled into a ball – switches to a ‘gentle’ smile. Mum is always smiling. She never chides Jonathon or Bernice whenever they do something wrong, her eyes never twisting into a terrifying glare, and nor did she ever show any signs of discomfort and displeasure on her white mask. It’s always a smile – a smile full of concern and worry and motherly tenderness.  But no matter what emotion her white mask is showcasing, beneath the meek façade, the grotesque maintains a permanent grimace, sourly sick with resent and scorn. Jonathon saw the true expression she has always held, only once, when she forgot to lock the door during her bath: she had always taken off her mask whenever she bathes – the ball of flesh reflected an intoxicating scowl of disgust, hanging due to the dearth of self pride. 

​

Jonathon sniffed. Mum had always smelt of contumely carnality, flesh and blood. ‘I’m just going hold Jacob now.’ Of course, of course. It wouldn’t be a good image if the relatives saw how the brother is the one holding the baby, would it?

​

But the moment she touched Jacob, he began to cry hysterically, as if a monster is attempting to kidnap an innocent child as him. Out of reflex, she almost dropped him as he bawled his eyes out, and Jonathon grabbed him again, back his safe snug. Jacob stopped crying immediately. Jonathon could sense that his relatives were quietly observing and judging them.

​

‘What’s all this ruckus? You’re making a scene.’ Dad came over, holding Bernice’s hand tightly. As he approached them, his shadow grew bigger and taller, looming over Jonathon with blackness that will cause him a headache every time. Unlike Mum, Dad’s tongue was shaped like a whip, with the words superbia carved on the tail in bold red. He was always naked, as he always did in Jonathan’s eyes, revealing bits and bits of his skin patched up with different colours of human hide, with his hideous skin unable to hide his muscle tissue and blood vessels. He was also very tall, perhaps nearly eight feet tall. His most distinctive features were the two deep, long scars that stretch along his back, as though that was where he used have wings.

​

‘Nothing.’ Mum explained briskly, clearly out of breath. She kneeled down, facing Bernice – an impressive feat as she was wearing a tight dress, asking: ‘Are we having fun, sugar?’

​

Bernice beamed sweetly. ‘Of course, Mummy.’ Similar to their mother, she also had a white mask on her face with a permanent grin. Her hands were the shape of a central rod, a tool that could maneuver puppets whichever way she pleases. This was a girl who knew exactly what and when to say. The world was just a puppet show to her, a stage where she could easily manipulate the cast and the crew.

​

The groom, Uncle Solomon, also came over with his bride, Emerald. Uncle Solomon had the body with the colour charcoal, and he smelt of burnt corpse. Jonathon could swear that he saw him constantly exchanging glances with a waitress. Next to him, Emerald, in turn, had greenish skin, and her eyes twinkled eerily in verdancy.

​

‘Hey, guys. Thanks for coming tonight! I trust you are enjoying yourselves, yes? How’re you doing, Lucas?’ Uncle Solomon’s voice was loud and friendly. He always had a natural flair for charisma and charm.

​

‘Doing well, thank you. I recently took up this hobby of farming these days. Rented a patch of land in the New Territories and we’ve been planting all sorts of veggies with the children. Right, Bernice?’ Dad’s gloat was only half true: they did rent a patch of land, although they have only been there once. The plants were probably all dead by now.

​

‘Right, dad.’ Bernice chirped with a cherry tone. ‘It’s too much fun!’

​

‘How about you, sweetie? You’re twelve, right? What secondary school are you planning to study?’

​

For a minute, Jonathon could feel his father’s yellowish eyes staring at him. He recalled their conversation this morning: ‘Remember, Jonathon. Should a relative ask about Bernice, don’t tell them that we’re still looking for a secondary school. Just say that we’re having trouble because there are too many options. Remember, don’t ever mention about Jacob’s asthma and language. It’s also better if you don’t tell them which university you’re attending. Always show that you’re the best.’ Of course, Dad. Jonathon thought grimly. To these meddling relatives, there are only three universities in Hong Kong.

​

The voices began to muzzle, and the world became indistinct. Jonathon looked down to Jacob, and then shifted his eyes outside the windows behind them. The glass revealed a parade of monsters, and only a single human stared back. He was the odd one out, the abnormal, diverging him from the demonic reality. Sometimes he felt as though he was only a sane man, tragically caught in this insanity, as if the world is nothing more than a paralytic drunkard, and he was the only human being lucid and coherent. He was the only one who as different. He was special. He was abnormal.

​

I am the only thing that’s real. I’m still here. Abnormality is me, and I am abnormal.

Another human stared back from the window. Jacob. He let out a soft wail. Yes, Jacob, we’re the only ones who are abnormal. We are different.

​

‘Earth to Jonathon!’ A loud voice crying for attention. There is no mistaking it: it’s his cousin, Verity.

​

He cleared his throat. ‘Hi there, Verity.’ Even they were of the same age, sometimes he couldn’t help but feel sickening from her presence. She was the kind of monster that had the worst sort of vibe. She smelt of dead corpses, and bloats covered the whole of her skin. Her eyes were glassy, as if she had replaced her eyes with glass eyes, and her skin colour was a bloodless white. The only fabric she wore was a white cloth, almost the same colour as her complexion. She was completely soaked, and wherever she went, there would be drips of water from her footsteps.

‘We haven’t seen each other since summer vacation, I think?’ She was beaming now. The smell she omitted was making Jonathon nauseous. He could vomit at any second now.

​

‘Yeah, since summer.’ He nodded, trying to calm himself down. ‘How’re you in U.K.?’

​

‘Meh, I’m doing fine. Spent most of my time skipping lectures and sleeping. I’m sorry I forgot, but what are you studying right now?’

​

Jonathon cleared his throat again. ‘Economics. You?’

​

‘Economics, wow! You wouldn’t believe it, but I’m actually studying social work at uni. I’m glad that I get to go to England, it’s a good opportunity to see the world, I suppose.’

​

‘Did you plan to go overseas on the first place?’

​

Jollily, she laughed. ‘No, but to tell you the truth, I have no choice but to leave. I actually got a Level One in my Chinese in my HKDSE, so I can’t even apply for an associate degree. This is the only uni that accepted me, so here I am.’

​

For a minute, he was utterly astounded. He could not even respond. From what he had been taught by his parents, to always show your best to others, and never never reveal your weakness to anyone, and this girl in front of him was just openly saying that she got a Level One in her HKDSE, how she couldn’t even apply for an associate degree and how only one university accepted her. Didn’t she just reveal her worst to someone she hadn’t met in months? Wasn’t she supposed to be afraid that Jonathon might look down upon her? Why was she acting like this was laughing matter?

​

She leaned forward to Jacob, who had been awfully quiet all this time. ‘This must be Jacob. Hullo, hullo. May I?’ Jonathon nodded, and strangely, Jacob simply stared at her with an O shape on his mouth while drooling. Verity gently took his small hand and shook hands with him. He giggled at her touch.

​

‘That’s weird.’ Jonathon said. ‘He’s usually really bad with strangers. Always bursts into tears whenever strangers touch him.’

​

‘Really?’ She sounded pleasantly surprised. ‘He’s really cute. You’re lucky to have such a cute baby brother, Jonathon.’

​

Suddenly, someone grabbed his shoulders. ‘Hello there, Verity. How’s England?’ It was Mum.

‘Oh, it was very nice.’

​

‘That’s good to hear. Your uncle and I actually visited London last month, though we only went there for a week.’

​

Verity’s face brightened. ‘Did you visit West End?’

​

Jonathon looked up. His mother’s white mask was a total confusion. She was showing her weakness. ‘West End…?’

​

‘You know, the one you can watch musicals and plays.’

​

‘Ah, of course. We enjoyed Les Misérables. It was lovely.’

​

‘I’ve got to go. More relatives to talk to. It’s nice seeing you all.’ At that, she turned to go.

‘I never liked that girl.’ Mum said lowly. ‘Always shrilling and babbling more than she should.’ Jonathon remembered than Mum was never in good terms with Verity’s mother, who was nowhere to be found tonight. ‘Are you all right, honey? You’re looking a bit pale.’

​

Jonathon just handed Jacob over to her, running into the nearest bathroom. He couldn’t help it – the moment he rushed into the toilet, vomit poured out from his mouth, the repelling odour of Verity left him distasteful and disgusted. It wasn’t until then when he realised that he had been holding back tears since his conversation with Verity, the slight pang of unreasonable jealousy twisting his mind.

​

He had no idea how he got this way. He was almost certain that he was not born with this odd ability. It simply developed within him as he grew up, evolving like cancer, blooming and flourishing. He could still remember the first day he saw the world in this way. It was his sixteenth birthday, and his parents threw the biggest birthday part ever. It was all fun and games, until he witnessed his best friend transform into a large octopus monster with tentacles, with the shape of a phallus.

​

Of course, his first reaction was of fear. A loud scream gushed out from his lips, and the next minute, he was already on the floor, crawling away from the monster, unable to even stand up. Everyone just gawped at him, as if he was the monster. And then just like that, one by one, they turned. Human eyes to animalistic orbs, human skin to melting flesh, human fingers to beastly claws… Reality warped and distorted, the world corrupted with the vile ardour of crime and sin. His world has collapsed – he barely had moments to think – the abominations were creeping towards him as circle, coming closer and closer – so he mustered his remaining valour and without thinking, bolted straight to the bathroom, locking himself in.

​

He climbed to the toilet and sat down onto his tower, shaking and sweating and exhaling like a madman. The monsters, which were once humans, men with humane virtues just seconds ago, kept on knocking the door vigorously, calling his name without ever stopping. Is his mind tricking him? Was it an illusion? Is he hallucinating? Is he going mad? He took a deep breath and looked down to his hands. They still look human. He exhaled again, and very slowly, he walked over to the mirror. Every step he took was shaky – his whole body was still shuddering relentlessly, without a sign to ever falter. Jonathon looked up.

​

A human stared back.

​

I am the only thing that’s real. I’m still here. Abnormality is me, and I am abnormal.

​

*

Jonathon looked up pensively. The gargoyles that guarded the church from the roof, their dark shadows overhanging the world below, eyes out wide in menace, watching – watching him, as though they knew that he was different from the rest of the norm. Jonathon’s face darkened from the overshadowing of the statues, as he frowned grimly. Another day spent in fear. Lovely.

​

‘Come on, honey.’ His mother called from behind, pushing the pram consisting of Jacob fast asleep. ‘We need to grab the good seats.’

​

‘Where’s dad?’

​

‘He needs to park the car. There aren’t any parking spaces around here.’

Sometimes he wondered why they even bother buying a car. For god’s sake, they live in the city that never sleeps, its transportation system more modern than any international city, and still they bother buying a car? Perhaps it was never about convenience: it was about keeping up appearances and images.

​

As they headed into the church, they immediately ran into the Lee family, who used to be their neighbours back then. They have been attending the same church for at least five years.

​

‘Mrs Liu, how are you?’ Mr Lee seemed like he was in a good mood. Similar to Uncle Solomon, his whole body was of burnt flesh, very much like he had been smothered with fire and brimstone, although Jonathon could make out tattoos that covered the most of his naked body, scarred in scarlet, lines of ‘Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you’. ‘Have you met my daughter, Victoria? She just came back from Oxford.’

​

‘Oxford?’ Mum proclaimed, much louder than she should. ‘That Oxford? By and by, I’ve always thought that your daughter’s name is Violet.’

​

‘Yes, but I changed it to Victoria ever since I came to Oxford.’ Victoria stepped up, her head cocked upwards with a funny little grin on her face. On her forehead marked the word Electra, and like Dad, her body was covered in human skin, all patched up but still unable to hide the hideous arteries. Behind her back laid two deep scars. Instead of a normal tongue, her tongue was of a silver key, its pearly radiance gleaming whenever she opens her mouth. ‘I’ve been studying experimental psychology. What about you, Jonathon?’

​

‘I’m doing economics.’

​

‘Where are you studying at?’

​

Jonathon gargled out his university under his breath. Victoria and her father didn’t look interested or impressed, and Mum was glaring at him. How is he supposed to evade such question? Ask for toilet break?

​

‘Is economics hard?’ Behind them, a soft voice crawled its way in. It’s Victoria’s twin sister, Viola. She was covered in reptile-like green and her eyes shifted at a similar colour, along with some hints of crimson. They were bleeding relentlessly, as though she has thrust a sharp weapon right through her eyes. She looked like she was ready to blend into the background any second.

​

‘I find it quite easy once you grasp the concepts.’ Jonathon replied swiftly, out of reflex, just as he has been trained. He turned his eyes to the only person who has not spoken yet, their mother. Mrs Lee also had reptile-like skin, but her mouth was bound with a chain, withholding her ability to speak. She was already transparent, ready to turn invisible. Her face was nothing more than a blank, emotionless expression, as if a void has quaffed all of her emotions, rendering her hollowed and devoid of any feelings.

​

‘Well, experiential psychology is so much harder than I thought. But I’ll try my best no matter what.’ Victoria jabbered uninvited. Jonathon glanced sideways to Viola, but she quickly altered her gaze to the floor, escaping his eyes. She seems to have trouble looking at people in the eye.

​

‘Oh, you’re too humble, Victoria. Your dad must be so proud of you. It’s hard for a genius to be bright and modest at the same time.’ Mum complimented, much to Mr Lee’s pleasure.

​

 ‘All I can say that we did well with this one, didn’t we?’ Mr Lee peered at his wife, running his arm around his daughter’s shoulder. 

​

‘I want to be like Victoria when I grow up! I want to go to Oxford too!’ Bernice declared, her arms crossed in determination. ‘I’m going to be better than Jonathon!’

​

‘Yes, Bernice, if you work hard enough, and maybe one day you’ll succeed.’ Victoria kneeled down to hold her hand.

​

As they exchanged farewells, Jonathon realised that during their conversation, Victoria had never actually looked at him in the eye: she had only been glancing behind him, as if he was not worthy to even look at. As she walked away with her dysfunctional little family, her shadow towered over him, like the kind of darkness that simply couldn’t be ignored. He winced, as though her shadow could inflict actual wounds on him.

​

Sorry, honey, but just because you study at Oxford, that doesn’t make you special. The world doesn’t work that way. I can see through your façade – I can see how arrogant you are, I can see how you looked down upon your own twin sister and your mum, I can see that you are practically battling against your mum for your dad. I can see the truth reflecting from your eyes. I am the only thing that’s real. I’m still here. Abnormality is me, and I am abnormal.

​

‘Hey, the mass is about to start!’ Verity yelled from the stage. Jonathon immediately remembered that her family had always been exceptionally religious, and that his cousin was always helping at the church whenever she has the time. No wonder he never liked her. She was just so… weird.   

​

Everyone hurried over their seats, throwing their coats and scarves onto the roles of chairs, with Dad running into the church, slipping right beside Jonathon before the priest could utter his dull and inspiring teachings:

‘Today, our main topic is of loneliness. A reading from the Epistle to the Hebrews, chapter thirteen, verse one:

Let brotherly love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body… Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”…’

 

Jonathon found difficulty in sitting upright, sleepiness tenderly drifting along his eyes, as he yawned quietly, without making much of a scene. Bernice looked like she was paying attention, but he knew that her mind was elsewhere, roaming through dreams of Oxford and Cambridge, of praises and approvals.

​

He wasn’t aware of the fact that Verity had been observing him from the stage all this time.

​

*

​

‘Hurry, kids! Your dad booked a table for 11:00. Don’t you guys want some brunch?’ Mum shouted at them while running to the car. Jacob was screeching from the pram, and Bernice looked like she was ready to fall down onto the ground like an idiot.

​

‘Wait, I forgot my scarf!’ Jonathon quickly checked his bag but to no avail. ‘I must have left it on my seat.’

​

‘There’s no time to wait for you. Just use the MTR. We’ll meet up there.’ Dad sounded impatient, and Jonathon ran back to the church, breathing loudly. He could feel his heart pumping against his chest. Trying to avoid the protective glares of the gargoyles, he pushed the large entrance doors in. Some of the lights were still on. Without thinking twice, he sprinted towards his seat.

But his scarf wasn’t there.

​

What the-

​

‘Looking for this?’

​

A voice… A familiar voice tore through the silence, concise and lucid. The smell of a corpse blocked his nose, the scent of someone who had spent far too long dancing under water –

​

‘Verity?’

​

‘Hello, Jonathon.’ She stood from the stage, her swollen hand clasping his black scarf (Don’t you dare touch my things with that disgusting hand of yours…), the lack of light made her resemble that of a ghost, adorned in white, sailing in the cold air. The world around him began to freeze: the temperature had gotten so low that everything would chill to the air’s icy kiss. His breath became visible, and slowly he felt his pant hitch.

​

The two of them stood on the opposite sides of the church: Jonathon at the back and Verity at the front, similar to the two ends of one single parallel line, the horizon that divides the sky and the earth.

​

‘I’ve always wanted to talk to you. Just you and me, alone.’

​

Verity took one step forward.

​

‘You’re really creeping me out.’ Jonathon uttered, but his voice was hushed compared to her. ‘What the hell do you want?’

​

‘I know your secret. I know what you’re capable of. I know all about your little ability. The world is nothing more than a masquerade of monsters, isn’t it? Everyone is an ugly abomination, their grotesque beyond human imagination, their hideous appearance reflecting the ugliness of human nature. You can see through our lies, you can see through the masks and facades we have built all these years. But you know what?’

​

She was staring at him now, barring holes right into his eyes. Uncomfortably, he tore his gaze off her while retreating backwards, his back banging against the cold, hard door.

​

‘I can do that too. But to me, everyone still looks human. Do you want to know why?’

​

Verity could do the same? Does that mean… Does that mean there’re more people like him? A stab of disappointment – perhaps Jonathon wasn’t as special as he thought. He was ready to collapse onto the ground, but he managed to keep calm and collected, his expression no more than bemusement.

​

‘I don’t understand. What could you possibly want from me? Am I here to admit my sin? Because I can see through everyone’s lies? Does this make me the devil? Does this make me the sinner?’

​

Verity shook her head and took another step forward. ‘You think that you’re special. You think that you’re different. You think that you’re abnormal… and you like it.’

​

Her face was completely calm, even cold as the air. ‘You want to be special. You want to be different and most of all, you want to be abnormal. Am I right?’

​

‘You don’t understand.’ Jonathon hissed angrily, his eyes slithering into two thin lines. ‘You have no idea.’

​

‘Why do you want to be abnormal, Jonathon?’

​

He stared at her, eyes widened and mouth opened up, his mind a mess and chaotic, screaming and howling wildly like a lunatic in a straitjacket. His face remained lifeless, but emotions dashed along his eyes like flashlights, sprinting and calling for attention.

​

‘Remember, Jonathon, remember always: You must be different from the others. Only then you can outshine everyone else.’ Mum said.

​

‘Only when you’re special, you’re the winner, and everyone the losers. You must stand out from the crowd, or else, you’re nothing.’ Dad said.

​

Mum, Dad, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m always the average of our class. I’m sorry I can’t run faster than the other boys. I’m sorry I can’t play the violin as well as my classmates. I’m sorry I can’t sing well and nor can I draw well. I’m sorry I can’t apply for a prestige university.

​

I’m so sorry that I’m normal.

​

‘I have to be abnormal.’ Jonathon whispered, his voice growing tired and hoarse, as he kneeled down to the ground and his words almost indistinct because of his sobs. ‘I have to be abnormal. I can’t be normal. Don’t you understand? If I’m normal, I’ll disappear! I’ll blend into the crowd. I’ll be nothing. It’ll be like I never existed! I can’t let that happen… I don’t have any other choice-’

​

‘Does seeing everyone as monsters and you yourself as the only human being make you special? That makes you abnormal?’

​

He exhaled again, and very slowly, he walked over to the mirror. Every step he took was shaky – his whole body was still shuddering relentlessly, without a sign to ever falter. Jonathon looked up.

​

A human stared back.

​

He began to laugh. How long has it been since he last laughed genuinely, when he truly felt happy? Too long, too long… How long has he been depressed, struck down to the ground to his tears for being normal? For how many nights have he tried to talk to God, begging and praying for just a talent, a talent to please Mum and Dad? Just one compliment? Nothing more than a simple little praise – ‘Good job, my dear’ or ‘I’m proud of you, my son’. For how many days have he sobbed, his self-image shattering before his eyes, so embarrassingly cowardly that he could hardly bare to look at himself in the mirror? Too long, too long! He laughed again, as the human stared back. His prayers have been answered!

​

He’s different! He’s special! He’s abnormal! Everyone’s a monster, but he’s a human, because he can observe! He can see through their masks, their lies! HE’S ABNORMAL! I AM THE ONLY THING THAT’S REAL. I’M STILL HERE. ABNORMALITY IS ME, AND I AM ABNORMAL!

​

‘It’s the only thing I have. This talent of mine… it’s all I’ve got. Can’t you understand, Verity? This is my final option, my final solution. If I don’t, I’ll die…’ Tears rolled down his cheeks, as his voice cracked with his whimpers. He knew that he must have looked ridiculous, he had never tried crying so weakly in front of someone who could qualify as a stranger, but he couldn’t help it. ‘I can’t be normal… Abnormal is all I have.’

​

Before he knew it, Verity was already before him, her small shadow gloaming behind her. ‘Why must you be abnormal? Does viewing others as monsters, simply because you can observe their true selves, make you special? Will that make you more confident? Will that help with your self-esteem? Will that make you happy? No! All it does is make you feel even worse – it makes you more and more lonely.’

​

Jonathon looked up and met those glass eyes of hers. He was shaking, and she gently grasped his shoulders, kneeling down in front of him as she did, forcing him to constantly hold his gaze.

‘What’s wrong with being normal? I like being normal. I feel at ease, even though I’m invisible to others and no one will ever care if I disappear. That’s right, I’m boring. But just because you’re normal, that’s doesn’t make you any less special. Excelling in a certain subject doesn’t make your different, and neither does being bad at sports make you boringly normal. Don’t ever think that you’ll disappear if you’re normal!’

​

Suddenly, Verity grabbed his hand tightly and placed it onto his chest, the position where his heart was. ‘Can you feel your heartbeat? It’s jumping and pumping, isn’t it? That means you’re alive! You don’t have to be remarkable to prove your own existence! Even though you’re normal, that doesn’t mean that you’ll be forgotten! Right now, you’re breathing, you feel – you exist. You’re alive! You don’t have to be abnormal to know so! So stop obsessing about being abnormal and be free!’  

​

She let go of him and sat back down, her eyes still fixed on him. ‘No matter what happens, just remember – you’re not alone. You’re never alone. So please, listen to me. Let go of everything. Forget every lie you’ve been told. Let go!’

​

Jonathon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could hear Verity’s loud exhales, perhaps she was close to crying herself. Somehow, that gave him hope. At that, as if something has been unlocked in his mind, a memory, a moment he had long forgotten suddenly replayed in front of his eyes. In the darkness, laid a small baby on a crib, protecting her from all harm from the world with its high fences, and another young boy, tiptoeing at the baby, peering.

​

‘Bernice…’ He called quietly, reaching for the baby’s cheek. His baby sister stirred, and slowly, her tiny eyes fluttered open. ‘Bernice, it’s your brother… Remember me?’ He tried again and pulled a face. Bubbly, she giggled at his weird expression while stretching her fingers towards his eyes.

​

‘I wish I’m as happy as you are.’ He sat down on a chair nearby, cupping his cheeks with his palms against the fence. ‘Do you want to know what happened?’

​

Bernice bit her finger toothlessly without replying him. He took it as a yes.

​

‘I couldn’t get the first place in the running competition. Mum’s angry with me. She says that the second place is not good enough.’ Disheartened, he sighed. ‘Dad doesn’t even want to talk to me.’ He watched as Bernice tried to stop up on her crib, crawling slowly to his side and forcing her legs to straighten out. As she neared her lips to his ear, she only whispered a single word, nothing more than one word, but enough to drive him to tears.

‘Proud.’

She must have learnt it by hearing Mum and Dad constantly repeating ‘I’m not proud with you’ when scolding him behind closed walls, lest the neighbours overhear them. He burst into tears, squeezing her tightly, his waterworks soaking her PJs, but he didn’t care.

​

‘Maybe you’re the only one who don’t care if I’m normal or not. Does it ever matter? Normal and abnormal? I don’t know anymore…’ He murmured against her thin shoulders, weeping –

​

Please, let me sleep.

​

I’m just so tired.

​

Let me rest.

​

But a voice rang, as clear as a bell: No, you must wake up. It’s time to wake up, Jonathon. Open your eyes!

​

Forcefully, he made a great attempt to open his eyes. Light poured into the darkness, the shadows cast away, and his world was black no more. At first, the light was too strong for him to open his eyes fully. He blinked once, then twice, rubbing them slowly, like a child awoken from his long slumber, alive and kicking, like the birth of a small chick from a cracked shell, singing a song of its existence. Open your eyes!

​

And he did –

​

A human stared back.

​

A human was staring at him, a girl, black hair tied into a pony tail, dressed in a white blouse and jeans, dry and no longer soaking, normal brown eyes gazing about, flawed skin with freckles and acnes, but a human nonetheless – Verity. He looked again, and once more, a human stared back.

I’m the only thing that’s real.

​

I’m still here.

​

Normality is me, and I am normal.

​

I am free.

​

Finally free.