DAWN
I didn't get to sleep that night. We didn't even said goodbye when we entered back the dorms. But their eyes said enough. What people said was true.
The eyes never lies.
I stared at the dull, grey ceiling. My mind wondered through the events this morning, wondering why I was so curious in checking out the cabin, knowing fully well that it was stocks of supply and nothing more.
I kept thinking. The impulsive decisions I created made me confused of myself. I didn't know why I even checked. I knew. Heck, I asked.
Maybe I checked just to be sure. Just to be cautious, or something- Or whatever. Or maybe because you saw them enter the woods and didn't came back.
I rolled my eyes as my own thoughts gave me away.
Fine. Maybe I saw them accidentally enter the woods. Or maybe I didn't.
Freaking hell. Fine I was eyeing. I think? If that's even the word. I wouldn't call it stalking. No. It's too far from that. And I'd never stalk them.
..
Fine, maybe a little. But who wouldn't be curious when you saw them enter the woods with two unknown people and came back 34 minutes later under the rain. Shirtless, might I add.
And yes, I was still curious with the cabin. I was supposed to leave anyways. I told myself I'd l leave the moment my watch hits 35,. But hey, It wasn't my fault they came back a minute before my deadline. I completely wasn't waiting on anyone. They just happen to be there.
And I happen to leave something inside the cabin as well. But who cares, right? It wasn't like they would've known it was mine. Heck, I doubt Brahms saw it with all the cobwebs and stalks of supply inside the small cabin. So the thought of them finding out I left my umbrella inside purposely was already at the back of my mind.
I'll get it tomorrow. Or If I find the time to. Who cares. It was a stupid umbrella anyways.
I sighed in my bed, tossing and turning as I tried to find a comfortable spot. I took a pillow and placed it on my head, only to grunt when I received no comfort.
"Fuck"
I widened my eyes, stopping myself from moving when I realized what came out of my mouth.
"Have I lost my freaking mind?" No way in hell did I said that. I've never cussed or cursed my entire life. Not once did I had the need nor urge to cuss.
Besides, if my mom ever heard of it, I'd probably be kneeling inside the prayer room as I chant prayers and even the novena until she was sure I didn't sin anymore. And it only happened once, when I snuck out to the kitchen because I was hungry. When she saw me, she told me how gluttony was engulfing my soul and that I should ask for forgiveness. I was 10.
I sighed, grabbing my rosary on the lamp table.
I stopped myself midway, furrowing my eyebrows as a thought came into mind. I've only been here one and a half months and yet, I've already found myself tangled up with the three of them. I wondered how many sins I've created the moment I stepped on this academy. Was it really something worth praying for?
I glanced at my rosary, contemplating whether I should pray or not. I wondered. If God was truly listening, would he be angry for the actions I've caused? Growing up in a religious family, I've grown to understand what the religion stands for. But for the first time in my life, I've grown confused. If anything I've believed in for the past years were even true. And in that confusion lies the question I've been avoiding as well. What even is my worth. Other than waiting for the man they've arranged for me, or beeing a good housewife for the lucianos. Other than being religious, who am' I?
I didn't even noticed the tears streaming down my face until I felt the coldness touch my neck.
Who am' I?
I didn't get to sleep that night.
**
"What made God, God?" Our professor asked. Looking around the room, awaiting for any response.
"Because he's omniscient." A student
answered, as the professor nodded and wrote it on the board.
"What else, my students? I'm sure you can add some more." He laughed warmly, opening his hands for any more suggestions until his eyes landed on me.
"Ms. Lopez." I hesitated for a minute.
"Because he's all knowing. The absolute in all hesitations. He's kind even to those who aren't in favor of him. And above all, he's powerful." I recited. The voice of my mother following me through every words I uttered.
Our professor smiled, nodding as he turned his back.
"Omniscient, Absolute, Kind, and Powerful." He wrote.
"So that's what makes God, God?" He questioned again as I nodded.
The door in front of the classroom opened, revealing Brahms, sauntering through the tables as he sat beside me. His moves were almost calculated when he didn't even hesitate to sit down beside me. "Dawn." He greeted, sending chills down my spine. I nodded in return, ignoring his presence as he leaned on the backrest of the chair.
"So you believe in him?" The professor asked once again, taking my attention. I nodded, getting curious with all the questions he threw.
"So like you said, he's the absolute, kind, and powerful. If so, then why are there still bad things happening in the world?"
"To test our faiths." I answered confidently.
"Didn't you just told me that God is kind?"
"I did. But our actions as humans does not define him. We made our decisions that led us to those bad results. It wasn't his fault." I argued.
"You said he was powerful, my child. Then why didn't he just take away these natures in human beings so none of them ends this way?"
"And you said so yourself. That he's kind. So why would he let his children get punished for the things he could change so himself?" His statement made me silent. Becoming more confused than I did last night. His point only made me more lost when he redirected the argument.
I could feel Brahms looking at me but I chose to ignore him.
"Let's look at this in a different way, child. Do you believe that God does things for a reason?" He questioned to which I nodded with hesitation in me, already growing anxious with how lost I'am in my own belief.
"Then why are women, men, and even children, are raped?" He asked me dead in the eye, making my whole mind blank.
"I..." I tried to come up with a reasonable argument. I read every part of the bible. From Psalms, to Matthews, to Revelations. But none of them could answer the boulder question my professor threw at me.
"I don't know." I whispered thickly.
He looked at me for a moment, before nodding when the bell rang. Immediately, the students stretched up, clearly asleep throughout the whole lesson and rushed their way out the doors. But I stayed in my seat. The thoughts running through my head one by one made me pull my hair in annoyance.
Tears edged my eyes like an ocean, waiting to be set free. I cupped my lips to hide the quiver I was already feeling coming out of my throat.
For years, that was what I believed in. But the question left by my professor made me doubt my whole belief. And in that, made me doubt myself. I think back to the women who faced such cruelty in the hands of those vulgar pleasure.
I watched them from the news, but never getting the whole story because the moment such news came into view, my mother would turn off the television immediately. Saying how such vulgar news is never my business to meddle. Whatever business I'm not associated with should not be spared with any attention, she said.
But thinking about it now, made me wonder my whole belief. And how did I never asked myself that. Was it because the faith I had blinded me from the truth? Or did I do it to myself ?
I stared at the small cross hanging infront of the classroom with confusion and longing with answers crafted in my head. Not until I felt rough hands crawling from my nape towards my hair, massaging it softly.
I didn't even noticed Brahms sitting beside me until he touched my neck.
"Hey." I said thickly, wiping the tears that managed to escape. He didn't answer me. He only stared at me. Whatever thoughts running from his mind were not readable from my point of view. I could tell the screws were running inside his head. But his facade were perfect enough to hide them from me.
"Sorry, I..."
"Never apologize, Dawn." He cut me off, staring through my eyes. "Yeah." I answered absentmindedly, getting lost through the black void his eyes carries. My mother said there was no such thing as black eyes. There's only brown and deep brown that made it look black. But never black. Not literally. Yet gazing in his eyes, there was no presence of brown in them. No matter how the reflection of light catches his eyes, it was all black. Ocean black. And I found myself drowning in them.
He took his hand away, which I didn't even realize were still on my hair before he stood.
He took his bag, opened them and dropping a blue object on my table.
My breath hitched as I saw my blue umbrella with my name engraved on the hook before he spoke.
"You left something."
***
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