Young Writers Society

Five minutes later, in Mrs. Ana office, Faris and Azhar stood in front of her, her table being the only hindrance between her and the both of them. The wall around them was painted milky white with a simple wood-brown vase of jasmine flowers at the corner decorating it. Metallic black shelves leaned against one of the wall, filled with documents. Mrs. Ana leaned against the flexible maroon chair, one arm resting on the chair arm, supporting her cheek. Azhar knew she was waiting to hear Faris said what they wanted to hear.

“What are you going to say, Faris?” she said, prompting him to break the silence.

Faris was looking down, biting his lower lip. He stole a glance at me before saying slowly, “I’m sorry, Azhar, for bullying you. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Forgiveness? Easy to say, but can you really, actually regret what you’ve done to me? Can you really tell to my face you’re not apologizing just to speed things up? Azhar wondered, his unbroken stare fixed on Faris.

Mrs. Ana leaned forward, arms flattened on the table. She tilted her face at Faris. “Anything you want to add?” She tapped her finger.

Azhar could see Faris’s hand folding into a fist. He knew it was hard for Faris to say what Mrs. Ana and him wanted to hear, but he realized he was enjoying this. Finally, it was Faris who didn’t know what to do, who sweated out of nervousness and fear, and who got the truly deserved punishment. Azhar could replay this scene many times in his head while smiling.

Faris looked at Azhar with a stare surprisingly firm. The tremble he had just now was gone. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done,” he said with a steady voice. “I swear I’ll never do it again. What I’ve done is something I thought I’m not capable of; it turned out I was wrong.”

Azhar frowned. He got what he wanted to hear - the regret and the statement of not doing it again. Faris’s wording, however, was weird. He added the last part to remind Azhar this was not his doing; this forcing Azhar to sleep on the hard, cold floor was beyond his capability. Azhar gulped. Only the two of them knew what happened, and only Azhar knew what exactly happened. Mrs. Ana didn’t.

Azhar faked out a smile of reassurance, the one that didn’t reach the ear. He hugged Faris tightly and patted his back. “This apology is also for the past wrongdoings you’ve done to me. Remember that,” he said, his voice dropped to a whisper as his mouth was near Faris’s ear, his face hidden from Mrs. Ana by Faris’s head.

He released the hug. “It’s okay, bro. I forgive you.” The smile stayed, but he was still nervous inside. Hopefully no one would believe Faris’s words.

Mrs. Ana nodded slightly and smiled. “This is what I wanted to see,” she said. “Now, Faris, as a punishment for the thing you’ve done, you are to clean the toilets for a couple of days.”

Faris’s eyes widened, and he frowned. He shifted his attention to Mrs. Ana and Azhar a few times, his jaw dropped in disbelief. “Cleaning toilets! You’ve never given a punishment this harsh - you know this one is the worst!”

Mrs. Ana stood up. She didn’t smile, neither did she frown. She put on a perfect poker face, a firm one. She took the yellow file on the table and rearranged it before holding it up to Faris.

“This is your file, Faris. In here lies the record of your behaviour for the time you’ve been here, which means it also records your bullying activity. It is my suspicion that the bullying didn’t start just yesterday as there should be something leading up to it. Perhaps you’ve done other nasty things to Azhar, and he just doesn’t tell me about it. However, I’d let those things pass as long as you’ve repented your wrongdoings and willingly receive the punishment.

Faris’s stare on the file was intense. Azhar could see it clearly. He also knew that just like other orphans, Faris couldn’t wait to get out of this orphanage and have his own family. This average orphanage wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t impressive either. The food everyday was the same; it was nasi lemak at morning, either noodles or fried rice at afternoon, and traditional snacks at night. There was not much activity here except for simple sports like ping pong, badminton and football. Even then, the firm rules here wouldn’t make one enjoy his living here.

Faris let out a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. I’d do it as long as you keep my record clean,” he said, his low voice indicating his defeat. He looked at Azhar before staring at the floor. “I’d also stop my bullying.”

Azhar smiled. If Faris did anything harmful to him again, he’d just tell Mrs. Ana about it. The problem he had been dealing for a year had ceased. He didn’t expect it to come surreally like this, of course, but he welcomed it nonetheless. That being said, he really needed to know what had happened last night. It was impossible he’d sleepwalked for it never happened, and the warden always roamed around the house an hour before curfew and another hour after that. It must be something to do with that light.

After Faris voiced his regret, Mrs. Ana exited the room with a hint of smile, motioning him to follow her to the toilets where she was going to brief him about the punishment. She also hoped the two of them - Faris and Azhar - would get to know each other better in the near future and become friends. Azhar felt like throwing up hearing that. Faris was the definition of violence, a complete antithesis to Azhar’s pacifist nature. Faris was willing to use brute force to get what he wanted - Azhar? Never.

Azhar was cowardly. He hid under the bed to escape Faris’s painful punches and sharp kicks. He’d never make a sound even when several mosquitoes bit him, if that what it took to avoid Faris’s way of enjoying himself. He knew it by hearing Faris’s maniacal laughter, and he couldn’t understand why. Why would Faris take pleasure on hurting others? Azhar would never done that to anyone.

Azhar quickly went into his room. His room was on the second floor of the orphanage, two floors from Mrs. Ana’s office - first floor was for eating, relaxing, and playing with your friends; second floor was for the girls; and third floor was for the boys. He ran his way through there, stumbling several people. The interior design of the orphanage was simple - floors with white squared tiles and walls painted with pale brown.

When he arrived to his room’s door, his breathing was still steady. It was one of the advantages of being a school runner. Azhar had been practicing everyday on his running, hoping to be the best runner of the school. He was Blue House runner, and would be competing others for the best runner sport. Sometimes he thought the reason he liked running so much was because maybe with that he could escape from all the things threatening him.

He opened the door, quickly went inside and turned around to close it. When he turned back to his bed, he let out a gasp after seeing them. He felt the energy in his feet being sucked out. They trembled and lost their balance, making him fell to the wall and floor. He couldn’t believe it. If the yellow light was enough creepiness, this was worse.

On his neatly-arranged bed were three lights - the yellow light, a sky blue light, and an emerald green light, all floating.