Into The World

#3 - Timeout

As the rain fell more violently on the windows, Eliza increased the volume on her walkman.

"Mom...'"An eight-year-old girl cried as she banged on the glass chamber she's locked in, several tubes from all directions inside the chamber, pointed at her.

The lit chamber dimly illuminated its dark, empty surroundings. A blurry silhouette enters the boundless room, holding a flickering flashlight.

"I'm here." The lady limped toward her from afar, her clothes drenched in blood. She was awfully bruised, such that the girl couldn't recognize the lady until the light illuminated her bloody face. Her mom's smooth, black hair was ripped at certain places, her thin, long nose broken. A thick collar hugged her neck, beeping faster as she ran closer to her daughter.

"Liz, don't be scared," her shaky voice echoes in the dark, unknown area.

Her mom enters the shallow lake, that surrounded her daughter's glass cage, trembling with every step.

"Mommy's here."

Liz continued to bang on the cage, the reason for this was different from the last. "Mom, don't come!!" Her muffled voice is unable to reach her mom. 

"Liz, I'm com-"

Eliza squeezed her eyes close, the loud tunes deafening the wailing sounds of the eight-year-old her.

Not today.  Eliza tightened her grip around her mug, ignoring the burning sensation on her sweaty palms - she didn't want to see her mom die for the millionth time. She slowly caved in to the ongoing tunes, breathing synchronistically with its slow beats.

            After a while, Eliza opened her eyes slowly, wiping off a tear that rolled down her pale, right cheek. She places the steaming mug on her bedside table and sighs when she rubs her reddened hands softy, her brown eyes glistening under the white light emitted by the bulb in the room.

           Her gaze fell on an open hardbound book on her otherwise empty desk. A bookmark laid between the first two pages of Act 2 Scene 1 of the Merchant of Venice, the lines of Portia highlighted, notes scribbled on the margins. The bookmark was actually a laminated photo of her mom wrapping her arms around an eight-year-old Eliza. 

         Eliza began singing the lyrics of the song, toying with her walkman. Her voice cracked at every line, but it didn't matter: she wanted to get out of this troublesome mess.

            The door flung open, making Eliza flinch and hit her back against the dark headboard. A young, tall man stands at the doorstep, his grey eyes flashing with concern and worry. He folded his arms, that rested on his green hoodie that was worn over his grey shorts.

'I knocked several times.' He mouthes the words while he steps into the room.

Eliza removed her headset and hurriedly got off her bed, rubbing her sore back, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Adam replied, gesturing Eliza to sit. Adam took a seat near the covered bay window, fidgeting with his hands.

"What's wrong?" Eliza opened the drawer of her bedside table and took out a white bag, as the sound of the thunderstorm became clearer in her ears. She pulled out a few cotton balls from the bag and covered her ears with it.

"Are you alright?" Adam noticed her panicky behavior. "Are you still-"

"Don't change the subject," Eliza snapped. She then repeated her words calmly, "What's wrong?"

"Well," Adam rubbed the back of his neck, his left foot tapping repeatedly on the floor.

"Wait," Eliza straightened up. "You got your results?"