Mirror

Hell is Cold

   Sinners here are frozen deep in the ice, faces out, eyes and mouths frozen shut. -Dante's Inferno

So it turned out that God must have an amazing sense of humour. When he prayed that Idunu would be alive, he should probably have specified how alive he wanted her to be. He went to the hospital the following morning just before school and after minutes of badgering (and possible harassment), he was able to find from the available nurses that Idunu was now in a possibly interminable coma. Thanks God. But the news—though not what he expected—gave him a little hope. Lots of people woke up from comas all the time. Granted, all the ones Michael knew were from TV shows and novels.

Oh, shit.

The mere concept of even going to school seemed as appealing to him as eating a bowl of ice cream (he hated the stuff, funny enough, just another thing to mark him out of the crowd), but he knew he had to go. If he didn't show up at school, his mates would start asking questions. Then his teachers would start asking questions. Then the social services would start asking questions and look into Michael's "family" and there was no was in hell he was leaving his home. Huhn, Hell. He remembered a quote from Dante's Inferno that described a level in Hell as cold. He loved reading classics, it was like gleaming a world he had never known and yet lived in at the same time.

And at the moment, he needed food. Badly. He had a quick shower, got changed and headed downstairs. He opened hi fridge and his heart dropped. There truly was no greater pain that could be experienced than opening your fridge full of hope and wonder and then discovering that your fridge actually had a lot in common with a broke person's wallet. They were both painfully empty. He found a ketchup packet from when they'd ordered food so long ago, tore it and sucked on it. Breakfast was overrated anyways.

On the walk from school, his mind seemed to be in a marathon. While he was waiting at the hospital, he had asked for his mother's ward so he could see her. The nurse looked at him quizzically and told him that no one with that name had been admitted into the hospital. Strange, he thought. Maybe she went to another hospital, he didn't think about it too much. Mostly because his mother had always been able to take care of herself and the fact that he didn't want to think of it at all. His mother had cancer and his best friend was in a coma. What was wrong with his life? What kind of joke was this? Suddenly an emotional dam that he had been holding deep inside him broke and the walk turned to a run and then a sprint. He sprinted all the way to his school, ignoring everyone else. He needed to go to the bathroom. Damn, where was the closest one? He spied one on the ground floor next to his homeroom and went there. He pushed through the door and was careful not to meet anyone's eyes. A guy he knew once in the third grade looked sideways at him and muttered, "Cafeteria food would do that to you".

He locked himself in a stall, sat on the lid of the toilet seat and cried. Why was everyone leaving him? Why were these things happening? He had been so kind, so cheerful and this was what he got. Hi mother couldn't die, he loved her too much. He had always thought love could conquer all but now it seemed that death was the undefeated champion. He didn't even know where she was, where could she even be? How could she leave? His father had never really established a prescence in his house but his mom and him had been close. She had always been there for him, right from his first steps, to what seemed like her last.

He sat there for what seemed like hours but he checked his watch and wasn't surprised to find that only ten minutes had passed. Time—as he now knew—was a fickle mistress. She always seemed to move quickly when you weren't paying attention and when you were paying attention, the shortest classes seemed to stretch towards infinity. But sometimes, it was like she said, "screw it", and just forgot her own rules.

It was two minutes past eight and his class would start in twelve minutes. He wiped his eyes and used the tissue beside him to blow his nose. He came out of the stall and wasn't shocked to find that no one was around. Punctuality was serious in his school. No one in their right mind would ever risk being late to even one of their classes. Except Idunu. But then again, she was never in her right mind. He smiled at the simple thought of her. She could be a million miles away and yet she'd be able to make him smile. She meant a lot to him and he hoped he knew it, in case she—

No, he was definitely not going to think in that direction. She was going to wake up, she was going to live. Even if he had to personally go to the hospital and shake her himself. He looked at the mirror in the toilet and stared at his face. His cheeks seemed to be growing inwardly, exposing his sharp cheekbones. He had full lips that accented his almost oval shaped head. He ran his hand through his jet black hair, he needed a haircut. Badly.

He stared at his watch again and he almost blanched. He had five more minutes left. His heart followed suit from his mind and went in full speed. He quickly washed his hands while doing a mental countdown using his watch. He left the toilet and ran towards his next class. What did he even have?

Four more minutes.

Physics, it was physics. He had to go now. They had lab practice today and the lab was on the other side of the school. Dammit.

Three more minutes.

He hated running, he always had. But recently, he found that he was doing a lot of it, on many occasions. He ran and he could feel the drops of sweat forming on his head and under his armpits. He would have to change during one of the three breaks they had at his school. As much as he hated running, he hated sweating even more. And now he could—he paused his train of thought and checked his watch.

One more minute.

He practically stumbled into the lab while saying in his head, ha-ha, next time, Time. He had made it! And just his time as well. The whole class paused and turned in his direction, all of them with a mix of emotions on their faces Confusion, shock, annoyance, just to name a few. Looking around, he realised he had forgotten something very important. Something he should have known to—

"Michael," his teacher said without looking away from what he was scribbling on the white board, "you know the rules: no lab coat, no lab practice. Please leave."

He opened his mouth to speak but knew it was no use. Mr James was not known for his tenderness. He hung his head and left the class, shutting the door behind him. He should have known; he was so caught up in how messed up his life was. He wasn't even wearing the same colour of socks. He slumped on the nearby wall and placed his head in his hands. Then, he heard a familiar voice and he looked up only to find a savage kind of anger rising from within him. He hated this person and was only resisting the urge to throw himself at her. His calm demeanour and good home training kept him in check. Almost.

"Hi." Shiv said.