"Four had gone missing in the neighborhood of Kalsika Street since last week. They were last seen on the outskirts of the forest—"

 

Ah, another missing report again. It became a common occurrence just within our neighborhood, but people couldn't seem to get used to it. Why? It was because of the anxiety that they could be next.

 

Many theorized that it could be serial killers at large, bears, cults, or whatever supernatural phenomenon that sucked the life out of them. Despite all of these worries, I could rest easy. Why again? Because I wished for nothing but to disappear in this world without a trace.

 

But if I did so, who would help my aunt? We were both working hard for my paralyzed uncle's medications. I wanted to get out of this responsibility, but that would make me an asshole. After eating the food they used their money on, living in the house they paid the rent for, and paying for my school fees from middle- to high school, what kind of asshole would I be if I didn't return that favor?

 

My uncle was asleep in their bedroom at 6 AM, and his snore was loud still—I liked to think that this was a sign of his increasing health. After eating my breakfast, I turned off the television and went to the bathroom.

 

"Oh, I might have taken too long, ha-ha! It's your turn now." my aunt said, who was already in her white uniform and gray skirt. She was only thirty-eight, but she already looked like a middle-aged woman because of her wrinkles and the darkness beneath her brown eyes—the same color as mine. I was getting more worried about her health every day.

 

"Stop making that face again, Julius! Now, take a bath. You will be late for your work."

 

I smiled at her and followed what she said. It took me only five minutes to finish, but upon looking at my face n the mirror, my beard was already thick. I was still seventeen, though.

 

Picking up the razor from the cabinet, I began shaving. Whenever I did such, I liked to look at my face out of boredom—and damn, buddy, my face was almost square. It was because of my thick, prominent jaw that I inherited from my father. Sigh, I shouldn't be calling him something he failed to fulfill. Regardless, I liked the features I got from my "parents," especially my thick eyebrows, sharp upturned nose, and a pair of thin, naturally pale lips.

 

"I could look for a modeling job, but—"

 

My dark circles. My eye bags. My acne pores. The pair of wrinkles on both sides of my nose. I looked much older than I was. Despite my tall height and long arms, I was thin.

 

"I don't like how I look."

 

Afterward, I brushed my teeth and spat the foams out. I went to my room and wore my uniform—a white pair of long sleeves topped with a yellow vest and black slacks. I had to wear a yellow cap, but it made my entire outfit look worse.

 

Of all the fast-food chains out there, I got accepted in one with the worst uniform.

 

But I couldn't complain. Regardless of how loathsome the job was for its repetitiveness and low wage, it still paid me. It was the only occupation I could depend on since it didn't have strict requirements.

 

Even if I wanted to go to college, there was no way I could juggle between paying for my tuition fee and my uncle's medications while working. I only had one body—and a frail one at that.

 

I could only sigh as I wore another shitty piece of decoration—a yellow bowtie—for my attire, which I ended up removing after seeing myself in the mirror.

 

"Whatever. I'll just wear it at work."

 

My aunt had already left, and my uncle's snores were still as loud as a siren, so I went out and locked the door. I didn't have to worry about his breakfast since he could still move half his body. Also, there was already food served by the bedside. My aunt would return in the afternoon, anyway, so lunch for them was nothing to worry about as well.

 

***

 

"Please enjoy your food, and have a wonderful day."

 

We had a strict order to say our lines with a toothy smile, even if it was the fakest of all fakes. Thanks to this job, I became an expert in that. After the customer left for a take-out, I looked at the clock behind me. It was already my break.

 

"Hey, Lliane, it's my break now," I said to a woman behind me who was preparing French fries.

 

Lliane was our branch manager. She was a short woman who wore a cap on top of her pink-dyed ponytail. This girl's eyebrows were pointed slant. With the addition of her narrow dark pair of eyes beneath her oval eyeglasses and porcelain-white skin, she looked like a strict headmistress.

 

"Sure, go ahead. But follow the schedule, okay?"

 

I nodded my head and thanked her.

 

I grabbed my lunch from the staff room and went behind the building. Regardless of how modern this city had become, thankfully, the highway only made its way to the front of the establishment, and the back was undisturbed. The view of the mountain range was astonishing. The sky was a bit cloudy in the afternoon, but that just added to the calm atmosphere. This entire scenery was the only medication enough to treat my exhaustion.

 

I sighed. It wasn't because my food had gone cold, but because of my entire life. There was never a day I found myself smiling genuinely—heck, what could give me genuine happiness, anyway? Maybe if I earned a lot of money? But that seemed impossible for someone like me unless I got lucky and won a lottery—a phenomenon less common than being struck by lightning. Guess what? I'd probably die twice from Zeus's hands before bathing in cash.

 

After emptying the lunch box, I put the plastic spoon, fork, and tissue inside and went into the trash bin. As I was about to throw it, my head was struck with severe pain, and my vision blurred. A shock traveled throughout my body that almost made me fall to my knees. Fortunately for me, I managed to lean myself against the wall.

 

"Shit, is my health finally taking a toll on me?"

 

Suddenly, my stomach felt the pain of being wrung and torn. All of the food I just ate made its way up to my mouth and out. The bitter taste of bile clung to my tongue. I wasn't given enough time to recover from that nausea when the same headache and blurriness struck again.

 

I kept vomiting to the point only water and saliva poured out. It was followed by the same stomach ache, and my muscles were being beaten to a pulp. My head was throbbing with excruciating pain, and my eyes were refusing to adapt to my surroundings.

 

I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to scream for help, but uttering a single vowel was difficult already.

 

I screamed from the sudden pain of being torn inch by inch all over my body. My fingers felt like they were twisting, and my skin being plucked by knife-sharp fingernails. Then, my limbs were being pulled slowly until the rest of my body felt the same agony of being shredded to pieces. My temperature shot up, and sweat easily drenched my entire uniform. As I was about to succumb to this agony, my vision shut down entirely.

 

Did I just die?