Young Writers Society

Jay

The moment he lifted his arm, he groaned. His bones felt like bricks being chained to an iron bar and his skin felt like wet cement.

Jay opened his eyes and squinted through the blinding rays penetrating the thin curtains hanging over his glass window. It was later than he thought.

"Jay?" came a soft voice followed by a slight knock on his door. A slow creak and the smell of jasmine scenting the air told him she had entered the room.

"You'll be late for your meeting if you continue to sleep in like this," the person continued.

Jay turned towards her and propped himself up with his elbow. "Minea."

"Yes?

He paused. He wanted to ask her who let her inside his room but that would seem impolite. It would just undermine Minea as a lady if he reminded her that she was coming into his room uninvited. Jay couldn't care less about those ladylike manners, but to Minea, it was everything.

"I'm going to get dressed."

Minea muttered a small oh and nodded. Jay watched her leave the room and slowly got out of bed. His entire body ached with pain but he walked straight to the bathroom as if nothing was bothering him except drowsiness.

He slowly picked up his toothbrush and was about to put it in his mouth when he caught his reflection in the mirror. His breath caught the moment he stared into his own features. His thick dark, disheveled hair danced lightly on top of his head at the tiniest movement, strays of hair hanging over his deep-set eyes.

He stared into those eyes and did a double-take. Instead of staring into his iris, Jay found himself staring at a black hole enveloped by a ring of flames that was supposed to be his pupil. He clenched his toothbrush and took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He opened them again and stared. The fire was still there, blazing more ferociously than ever.

Fear turned to anger as Jay lifted up his toothbrush and drove it into the mirror, the force of his fist and the end of the plastic handle caused the mirror to crack and shattered into a thousand pieces.

****

Dae

Dae clutched her chest as she set her coffee cup down. It had started throbbing with pain again for no reason which bothered Dae more than the pile of work she had to manage. Carefully, she dug into her blue purse and fished out a medicine tablet, popping the final one out of the socket and swallowed it with the glass of water she had ordered previously. Slowly, the pain numbed away and she was able to concentrate on the paper in front of her.

"So much data to work with," she muttered, "What is with all these numbers?"

Ever since Dae began her job working as a journalist, her stress level increased more than ever. It was less than a year ago that she had graduated from university, so she wasn't getting used to working yet. But numbers are numbers. Dae was the lowest in the class in terms of grades due to her inability to work with numbers, and she had solely depended on her excellent communication skills to get a job. At first, it was just putting words into paragraphs and making them reliable and important, but when provided with a series of graphs and data for her to evaluate, Dae found herself on her third cup of coffee and still struggling to figure out the importance of the first graph.

"Need any help?"

She startled at the voice, but relaxed when she saw her old friend pulling a chair next to her and sat down.

"Drinking coffee at night," he noted, "not a good sign. How late are you planning to stay up?"

"What time is it now?"

"11:30. I'm surprised this shop isn't closed yet."

"It is because Arya is the owner," Dae announced, "But she is upstairs grading a bunch of papers."

Arya, Dae's best friend, was one of the few people Dae admired to no end. Not only was she working as a high school teacher, but she also owned a coffee shop. Dae didn't know how the girl managed but she did.

"So..."

"I'm working, Han!" Dae scolded him. Han put his hand over his chest and faked a hurt look.

"I was just offering help!"

Dae looked up eagerly and smiled genuinely. Han, who was not used to seeing her smiling, stared at her wearily and slowly returned the smile.

"Really?" she said, grinning, scooting her chair closer to him. Han backed away.

"On second thought..."

Dae didn't wait for him to finish. She thrust her work in front of him with a huge grin and waited for him to make sense out of all of it. Han leaned closer to her and the two of them peered down.

"This is easy," Han said, grabbing Dae's computer and started typing, "It is just comparing trends. Since 2011, the crime rate in Phnom Penh has increased...has it? I haven't noticed anything unusual or dangerous."

"That is because you just came here," Dae retorted, "Continue please."

"But I still don't agree with this data," Han argued, "The rate is increasing at such a fast rate. If this continues, this would reach the level in LA. Do you have any ideas yet about the cause?"

"What else besides those same gang stories and drug dealers? Drugs, mostly drugs."

Han went silent. He continued looking down like something was bothering him, and Dae couldn't help but studied his profile. She hadn't seen him in years and hadn't got a proper chance to really study him when he returned to the country.

Han's hair had grown longer at the front, falling over his eyes. His side hair, however, was cut short, the same style he always wore in highschool. Unlike in high school, however, his face became more masculine, with more prominent jawlines. His skin texture was smooth and perfect tan. At that moment, he turned to stare at her, his lips moving as if he was about to comment on something. Their gazes caught and the words died on his lips as his eyes caught onto hers. Dae's gaze traveled to his lips and swallowed. Han did the same, his eyes clouded as he leaned closer.

"That scar on your lips, no matter how much I look at it, it resembles Harry Potter's lightning bolt."

Han stopped moving towards her abruptly and stared at the girl in front of him with disbelief. Dae, however, moved closer, her eyes transfixed on the small zig-zag line darting from under Han's lower lips.

"I still remember how you got it," she giggled, "We were running from the rain in grade nine and you slipped, falling into some pieces of glass. There was a lot of blood."

Han leaned back and placed his hand on Dae's head, gently ruffling her dark, wavy hair. "And don't forget the pain."

"And the ugly noise you made when you were bawling her eyes out," another voice intruded. Han rolled his eyes when he saw Arya coming down carrying her binder and placed it on the table they were sitting at. "You should be ashamed, Han."

"Oh shut up," Han muttered, placing his hands on his face.

Dae laughed and drew back, draining her last drop of coffee.

"You should change, hon," Arya said, "It's late."

Dae nodded and got up. Slowly, she gathered her notes and placed them lazily into her binder, cradling her laptop in her arms at the same time.

"Good night," she called, "And don't keep Arya up late, Han!"

"You tell her that," Han complained and then yelled in pain when Arya's knuckle made contact with his head.

Dae smiled and walked out. Her apartment was only a minute away from Arya's shop, and the street was still very busy. Street lights illuminated her slender figure as she strode along the sidewalk and entered the tall building in front of her. It took three more steps until Dae immediately grabbed her chest, sending her laptop and papers onto the ground.

The pain was here again, and this time, instead of being mercy on here and stayed for a few seconds, it lingered, each moment more painful than the last. With a desperate gasp, Dae tried to pull for her phone, but it tumbled out of her trembling hands. Soon afterward, Dae's entire body weakened and she collapsed.