"Good morning...why the sunglasses? Too cool to live or something?" Shane raised his head up from his textbook to greet his roommate. Joe was drowsy; his eyelids were puffy. He had fallen into a dreamless sleep in the middle of the story on Socrates that Frank was regaling him with over the phone. When he awoke, it was already noon and the receiver was just next to his head.

"Ah, Frank, you still there? Frank?"

"Yes… here. Sorry, I did put you on loudspeaker… my hand’s tired from holding on to the receiver…"

"You didn’t disconnect? But I dozed off…"

"At the most interesting part. You missed my fantastic retelling of Socrates defense of himself at the trial. It’ll make you cry. It made me tear."

"What trial? Cry? Never mind, don’t even bother to explain. Thanks, bro…"

"Don’t mention it. Feeling better now?"

"Yes. Much better. Thanks for not putting down."

"Anytime, Joe. Anytime."

Joe stifled a yawn as he approached the wardrobe to grab some fresh clothes. He was too tired to talk and aching all over. The headache of the previous night was reduced to a dull throb. Maybe he should try Valium.

Just reaching out for the hangars that hung the beige shirt and stonewashed jeans that he wanted to wear was taxing his arms. He threw a glance at the clock and saw that it was only one-thirty; plenty of time before meeting up with the gang. Mulling over his choice of clothes, something he hardly did nowadays, his thoughts wandered to many realms, all of them making no sense. Or rather, they did. In snippets and snapshots, they formed a complete picture that caused his guts to sink.

Though he finally had somewhat of a normal conversation with Frank last night- the closeness of the both of them somehow was reborn again owing to Frank’s patience and understanding- Joe still felt like something was forever lost in his relationship with his brother. They seemed to have lost the natural ability to banter about anything under the sun; lost that spiritual imminence that never felt like a burden before. Somewhere along the string of chaos of events that had transpired, they had lost sight of each other.

Or rather, he had lost sight of everyone around him and Frank was still persistently trying to drag him out of the woods- a crowded vastness of his mind; all scary and alien.

That’s it. They’re always the ones trying. Mina’s the one trying. Mom trying too until she breaks down so very often. Dad, in his stoic manner, doing behind the scenes maneuvering. And Maggie, in her own way, trying.

Then there’s Frank. Frank most of all.

Have I let them all down? Why am I so crazy these days?

He felt so much lighter having let his tears be the vessels of his emotions and thoughts that night. With unflinching certainty, he knew Frank understood each and every message every single shining drop carried.

Tears were cathartic but big boys don’t cry. Maybe that was his answer for going mad.

With his shirt and jeans hung on his forearm which was at right angle to his torso, he slammed the door of the shared wardrobe with his free hand and noticed with some amusement that Shane was not copying off someone’s finished assignment. His roommate was lounging on his own bed, cradling and supporting his head with both palms while sweating over Econometrics, his weakest subject. Shane’s blatant crush on Mina was having its positive effect. But once the magical spell of infatuation was over, Joe wondered if Shane would still have the drive to study because like Joe, he was a bummer.

"Studying?" Joe asked rather redundantly, not putting much thought into how he would start a friendly conversation.

"Yah, what does it look like?" Shane mumbled, flipping a page over.

"Hmm.. yah. Hey, I’ll get the money soon so…"

"Our gig from Arachno may tide this over. The band’s letting us have the first pay cheque to pay for damages and buy some food. We’re jamming on Sat, you coming?" Shane took off his hardly used glasses and put them aside. Rubbing tiredness out of his eyes, he raised a brow in anticipation of Joe’s answer.

Joe slacked against the wardrobe and shrugged. "I thought you guys didn’t want me anymore."

"Like we said, until you learn some responsibility. But I guess how can you learn if we don’t let you practice? Just don’t pull what you did to Mina on us… and don’t pull it on Mina again or you’ll eat my fist." Shane warned with a waning smile. Joe pressed his lips together and his eyes hooded over the mention of Mina’s name. He could not let go of Vanessa yet.

He doubted if he ever could. She might be alive.

Crazy. I’m going crazy again… she’s…

She spoke to me last night. She came to me. She’s alive. Alive.

Re-gaining some control over himself, he nodded towards Shane’s textbook. "Tough, huh?"

"Yup. It needs Math skills, and I’m not good in Math."

"Then why did you take it?"

"Coz my old man says Econs’ good for the job market. I wonder why I listened to him. He never listens to me anyway. He never cared." Shane’s voice wilted. With some embarrassment, Joe saw Shane brush at his eyes, probably tearing from latent hurt.

"Have a good talk with him. It helps…"

"Yah. Like he can ever get over my mom’s death. Never mind. I’m just the cursed child, the one whom his mommy sacrificed her life for…" Shane commented bitterly and slammed his textbook shut. "I don’t…"

"All the more he should treasure you. There could be misunderstandings, I don’t know…just …" Joe interrupted unintentionally but Shane, instead of pissed off like he always was when the subject was broached, smiled warmly, albeit cynically, instead.

"Thanks man. So, tell me what’s on your mind?"

"Me?"

"I know you long enough. You don’t offer to hear me whine if you don’t want to whine about something yourself. So, whine away."

Joe flung his clothes onto his bed, so both of his hands could be freed. Slouching his upper torso even more against the wardrobe, he scratched the back of his head and shrugged again. "I may want to take a long break from college."

"Like a semester?"

"More like… forever. But Frank almost sold his soul to the Uni just so I’d get in. I can’t… I screw up everybody’s efforts…just screw up everything." Joe muttered dejectedly. If Frank had not endeavored doggedly to help him secure a place in UB, Joe was sure quitting college would be as fast as a split second and done with no regrets.

Maybe some, but not exactly a lot. He really felt exhausted. He just wanted to go somewhere.

"You know he won’t feel that way. Hey, he may be one annoying Nanny but I’ve seen how he tries his best to make sure you and Maggie are ok. I’ll throw you back your advice. Talk to him." Shane flipped open his textbook and stifled a yawn.

I did. I cried over the phone with him listening on the other end.

But somehow, it just did not feel the same anymore.

Joe chuckled.

"What’s so funny?"

"You’re turning into Wayne."

"Am not!"

"Yes! Your names rhyme and you’re studying!" Joe accused him with feigned aghast. "How can you betray our slackers’ brotherhood? Now there’s only me and Chris left! Traitor!"

"I… oh my goodness… you’re right! I’m turning into Wayne! Into a nerd! Save me!!!!" Shane played along in good humor and the two of them chortled softly in quiet companionship.

"It’s good, at least you’re productive." Joe remarked as he straightened himself up and walked over to his bed to gather his clothes again. Shane put on his black-rimmed glasses, looking suddenly rather intelligent.

"I may not appreciate how important a college education is but I don’t want to wait until the day I regret it. I don’t have dreams or ambitions. But I do know that a degree can be a stepping stone for me until I figure out what I want."

Joe smiled and before he left for the showers, he gave Shane a friendly clap on the back. "I think you’ve matured somewhat. Maybe you’ll pass that study bug to me one day."

"Hah! You’re immune to it! Now, leave me alone. I’m not studying out of some casual want. I’ve got a test soon."

Test. Everyone’s having a test every week. What a sick place.

"Yah…see you…"

"Wait, before I forget, there’s a note for you on your study table, came in either last night or this morning under the door. Maybe you’ve got another admirer." Shane teased and pointed vaguely to Joe’s cluttered desk. Spotting the bright yellow envelope immediately- a beacon amongst the chaos- Joe walked over to his desk and dumped the clean clothes atop a mountain heap of Xeroxed notes. Using a pen-knife, he slit the envelope opened.

Reading it, he was taken aback slightly. Actually, he was expecting some funny advertisement that’s always slotted under the doors of the dorms to inform students about the newest happenings or another fund-raising bazaar being organized in some funny parts of the huge campus. The terse contents that promised revelation startled and yet, relieved him. A slow, grim smile stretched itself across his lips.

So, the mystery ends here.

Scanning the desk for his keys and wallet, he grabbed them and for a nano-second almost tried to find his mobile- only to recall immediately that he had already destroyed one of the most important and yet, restrictive devices that modern technology had to offer.

"Whoa, important blind date?" Shane asked, somewhat disturbed by Joe’s agitation.

"No, no, no… wait… if Frank calls, tell him I’ll join them later." Joe spoke and raced out of the hostel room, slamming the door behind him, indistinctly hearing Shane’s sputters of slight bafflement behind him.

***

The stretch of industrial warehouses near Alley Way, Bayport had already long passed its heydays. With economic restructuring always taking place in an evolving town, the older industries were forgotten but their relics were harder to remove. Relics like dilapidated factory buildings; warehouses and some depressed workers who were retrenched from their jobs and never able to find permanent employment in another area because the new golden boys of the economy were too foreign for them to adapt to.

So what was being hailed in Bayport was manifested in the skyscrapers of the downtown areas, boasting of banks, finance houses and technological companies. The flatted warehouses there were abandoned like brides being left by the altar because the grooms had found someone prettier and more exciting. Their paned eyes were glazed over with dusty tears. The white gowns that they had so carefully chosen were tattered and torn by the harsh weather changes. Their cosmetic facades faded away to a grey pallor and rust while their veils had decomposed and clung onto their body- strands of sticky cobwebs.

Joe drove down one row of warehouses, his eyes scanning for the one where he was supposed to meet the pranksters.

121, 122, 123, ah! 124!

Pulling up his handbrakes, he unbelted himself and got out of his van. Cautiously, he glanced around but found that he was the only visitor to this dejected area. Down in the dumps. He was literally down in the dumps.

He reached the warehouse and pushed the metal door opened. It’s rusty hinges creaked and groaned, unaccustomed to the exercise after having being lazy for many years. Too late he saw fresh beer cans strewn outside the door. He thought he was early by at least half-an-hour.

A sack was thrown over his head and something blunt and hard whacked against his back. Another elongated stick rammed the back of knees, causing them to buckle and him to crash on the floor in a kneeling position.

He yelled in pain but the yells were muffled. He heard the sound of the door closing slowly- moaning yet again.

"Not so tough now huh, Hardy?"

Suffocating. He was suffocating. It was claustrophobic and he tried to struggle up. The sack was smelly, like it was used to carry onions before. A rotting smell of vegetables engulfed his head and he wrestled with the sack to pull it over his head.

Only to be knocked down again with another blow to his back.

"No, Joe, save me… don’t let them do this to me!"

"Let got of him, you pervs! Let…"

"Shut up, pretty boy. Just…"

His heart pounded. In his sightlessness, his mind took control and he saw the forbidden images in stark clarity.

"Where’s the sweet pretty girlfriend of yours? Mina? You’re going to pay for humiliating me. Do you even know who I am, ex-convict?"

"No! Let him go!" Joe tried to kick at the direction of the voice and he made contact. He heard someone howl.

More pummels were the punishment for his defiance. He could do nothing but cover his head against the bludgeons that were randomly and brutally administered. He thought he was going to die.

"Joe!"

I’m sorry, pal. I’m sorry… I can’t… too many…I can’t fight them all…

He writhed in pain on the floor. His assailants seemed to have stopped, perhaps having vented their anger. The door creaked opened again and the footsteps grew fainter and fainter.

The door closed again.

In agony, he pulled the sack over his upper torso and tried to stand up but fell down each time he thought he would succeed. His knees were burning, so was his back. He thought he might have broken something or everything.

Everywhere hurt.

A drip of water plopped onto the floor and his surroundings shifted around him- a nauseating merry-go-round.

His eyes closed as sweet unconsciousness slipped over him, and the rancid stench of the warehouse became his blanket.