She sat there quietly. Who knows what she thinks as she looks into the mirror. She stood up, her hand lingering, resting against the counter, then picked up a bottle and swallowed a couple of pills.
She breathed in and out. She walked out of the washroom and collapsed on her bed. Her phone was beside her face. She fell asleep.
The phone rang and beeped, but she didn't move.
Hours and hours later, she awoke.
Still tired and drained, she picked up her phone. There were many messages and missed calls, but she couldn't call back. She couldn't think or talk.
She was tired. She was lifeless. But she wasn't always like this.
---
19 years ago
'Mama, look!' a little girl said, showing her mum a drawing.
'Hm, I'm busy, Lala,' her mum replied as she walked into her room.
'It's always later… Mama is always tired,' Lala thought, remembering what her brother once said. 'He said if I'm good, then Mama won't be tired anymore.'
She ran to the backyard and sat on the swing. Going back and forth, her eyes were bright, a smile on her lips, hair flying in the wind. She went higher and higher.
Vooooommmm—
She heard the sound of a car. 'Brother is here!' she thought, running out to greet him.
"Brother, you're back!" she screamed, running to the young man who walked in.
Picking her up, he spun her around. "How is my Lala?" he asked.
"Lala is good, Brother—but Lala is going to vomit."
"Uh, hey, don't vomit."
"But you spun me—ergh, ergh." She faked a couple of vomiting sounds. "No more spinning, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. So where is Mum?"
"She went to her room."
"Did you disturb her?"
"No, I didn't. Lala is a good girl." She nodded proudly.
"Okay, I'll go and shower. We'll play when I'm done, okay?"
"Okay, Brother. I'll go shower too. Been playing too long."
"Hmm."
'Hm?'
CRASH.
'Why that memory?' Lala thought. She looked for the pills again and took some.
'Brother…' she mumbled, curling up.
---
NO!
'Why must I always give in to her? I did nothing to her, Brother.'
'I know, Lala, but be good. Don't disturb Mum.'
'No. No, no, no. I'm not a child, Brother. I see the disgust in her eyes when she stares at me.'
'I'm not my father. If she hates me so much, she should have never given birth to me.'
'I hate he—'
SLAP.
The slap hit her before she could finish. She stood in front of her brother, stunned.
The silence was loud.
She fell to her knees as he walked away.
"I hate you. I hate you, Brother," she said—not screaming, but slow and steady, letting him hear every word.
He paused for a moment but kept walking.
…
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Lala slaps herself over and over, remembering that day.
"I'm the worst… I'm definitely the worst."
The slaps echoed through the small room.
She got up from the bed where she'd curled herself. She made her way out of the room, whispering beneath her breath.
She passed through the familiar hallways, went downstairs, and walked out to the backyard. She sat on the old swing.
She moved forward and back, higher and higher. Her eyes dimmed. Her lips were frozen. But her hair still flowed in the wind.
---
"You here, miss? Do you want to eat something?" the chef asked gently.
"Can I get custard?"
"Yes, you can," the chef replied, hurrying to make it, afraid Lala would change her mind.
She sat in the living room, waiting for her custard, staring blankly at the TV. She heard a track of laughter.
She followed it a second later, mimicking it softly.
In a few minutes, the custard was ready. She took about five bites before pushing it away.
Vooooom—
The sound of a car echoed through the house. Her brother was back.
Her eyes barely left the screen as she pinched herself under her sleeve.
'If I don't move, he won't see me. Please let him not see me,' her mind raced as the footsteps drew closer.
The once-young man, now middle-aged with eye bags from overworking, stepped into the room. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, pausing as he saw her stiff figure and poor attempt to stay invisible.
'Say a word and she'll break,' he thought as he walked upstairs.
He watched her body relax just a little.
'I hope she holds on longer than Mum,' he mumbled to himself.
She felt his gaze.
'He cares… but I can't look at him yet.'
So she stayed.
Ahah.
The sound came from the TV.
'I should try…' she thought.